I need to remember to tell work (if you’re reading, please remind me) that I’ve the dentist on the 28th, 9am. I should really go because I’ve not been since June and after my face exploded (along with a wisdom tooth) I feel it’s my duty to never endure that pain again, so I must! I simply must! Also, I need a polish.
God, I remember that pain — it was May bank holiday 2014 and I was sat watching TV, minding my own business, when my face exploded and folded — it was like someone had taken my upper jaw and bent it, snap. I cried out in surprise — I’d heard vodka worked but it didn’t, at least not before I couldn’t see — and I pressed my face against the cold tiled bathroom floor, weeping pathetically over my own undoing. The dentist was a good sport, though. She got her pliers, got support, and heaved the little fucker out — I’ve kept it, too. Rotten little wisdom tooth didn’t see that coming… I did spend my birthday unable to open my mouth more than a half inch, but that’s a small price to pay for my sanity.
Anyway, dentist — must remember.
And you, go! If you ask them nicely, you get a sticker.