I stumbled across this while searching for a stock photo of a clenched fist.

There were a lot of terrible pictures in that search. Living with safe search off is a dangerous thing. Glorious, but dangerous. You can’t unsee it.

But I’m messing with the site, so if anything weird happens, like someone reading it, I apologize. For the reading. If it doesn’t work, well, you’re probably better off.

In unrelated news, the dentist trip was easy and smooth like punting a puppy. I am actually looking forward to the followup I have coming in a couple weeks to finish everything off. Although there’s still a suture in there that needs to be trimmed off or something because it’s all over the place. I have a weird plastic cap on the back two teeth while they’re builing my crowns. I’m going to have cyborg mouth soon. I wonder if they’d put a USB tooth in there for me to store data. That would be cool.

Now I am drugged. This is how I look.

Maybe.

That’s what it feels like anyway. I have extreme anxiety about this thing, which makes me feel really dopey. It’s a dentist, not a guillotine. Right?

How many people die from dentistry anyway? I can’t find a satisfactory answer via cursory and disinterested google search. Doc Holliday practiced dentistry. Clinton is accused to have ordered someone killed in a dentist chair by the lunatics in the world. Moe Green was in a barber’s chair, but still, it’s kind of close.

There is no reason for me to be flipping out. I will chill. Nothing is happening tomorrow anyway. I am going to jump rope and practice mime. I am not doing anything mouth-related at all.

Oh boy.

To me life tends to vary between a glorious upward soaring ecstasy and the sensation of a large emotionless creature slamming my head under murky, chemical-filled water over and over again, holding it down a little longer with each repetition.

This has been an interesting week so far, of validation and overestimation and further procrastination. I hope to be out in the woods within a few weeks, enjoying my redneckery without reservation. Literally.

I think you should make a shirt that says “My Freak” on the front, so you can tell people you have to get your freak on, then go to your bedroom, then come back wearing it, and everyone will hate you to death.

Today my teacup broke in two. For no good reason. I was lifting it to take a sip, and half of it fell off. I luckily didn’t have it over my laptop. It fits together with no gaps, so it didn’t shatter. Just broke. I think my tea hates me. Fuck you, tea.
Desi’s been sick all week, and I’m taking care of her. I hope she gets better soon, I’m not a good caretaker.
Does anyone else, upon seeing molten lava on TV, become seized with a desire to touch it?

is about to drown in a futile search for ice floes where it normally hunts. Or it will find a landfill and live there.