Tough and ruthless, or rough and toothless?

March 18, 2009 at 12:25 pm (Cussed Dumbers)

I was raised not to brag. My parents (and later Def Leppard) preached Action! Not Words! Those who can, do. Those who can’t? They teach. The ones who talk about sex so much probably aren’t getting any. (I tried to prove mom wrong on that one.) Tooting ones own horn was looked down upon at our house. But.. last night I did something so macho sounding I have to puff my feathers just a bit.

And to those idiots who said Portland isn’t a manly city? Here’s a couple of middle fingers upraised in your general direction.

St. Patrick’s Day is usually fun for me. I work most of the time, and this year was no exception. When I showed up for work dressed in black and dark blue, Dr T asked why I wasn’t wearing green? I pointed to my red hair and emerald birthstone earring and replied, “What? I don’t look Irish enough for ya?” The poor girl standing between us had a deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Go ahead and pinch me. I’m into S & M…” She stuck around long enough to buy cigarettes.

So, was that it, you ask? Me backtalking my boss? No…

Stone cold sober, between customers, I pulled my own wisdom tooth. Then laid it on the counter for all to see.


I can hear Raven now. “Gasp! EWW! You did WHAT?” A while back I pulled my cheek out fish-hook style and wiggled the tooth around, showing off. “Thanks. I will forever have that image of your mouth in my head now…”

Guess I fixed that, huh?

Now, before you get visions of Bumfights and needlenosed pliers, I should clarify. My wisdom tooth has needed to go for a long time. It wobbled around like an old Atari joystick, and hurt like hell if I bit down wrong. Biting down wrong started the beginning of the end. As I bit down on a banana, I heard a loud snap/crunch and a shot of pain in the jaw. (How do you break a tooth on a banana, unless you’re ninety?) Since then, on any given day I’d feel like Harvey Dent from Dark Knight.

After my fruits and nuts lunch, I was toothpicking around the mouth, and there seemed to be something stuck near my wisdom tooth. I busted out ‘the hooker,’ a plastic toothpick with a piece of floss. I worked it, and then there was a feeling and sound in my head like when you stick a boot in a mudhole, a sucking sound. All of a sudden, the tooth was really loose.

I rocked it back and forth with my tongue, unable to quit playing with it. Then there was release. It rolled out of socket, and I gently spit it into my hand. My first thought? “Fucking cool! I just saved at least $75!” Bummer for you, Multnomah County Dental Clinic.

I rinsed immediately, but there was virtually no blood. I cleaned the tooth and began showing it off. I called Raven to brag, but she wasn’t picking up, so I left her a cringe-inducing voicemail. I NEEDED TO BRAG!

So I called Clairissa in San Diego. “Guess what? I just pulled my own wisdom tooth.”

“Can I have it?”

“You want my old wisdom tooth?”

“Hell yeah! I’ll keep it with your pubes, eyebrows and postcards! Put it on top of Freddy the Frog and I’ll get it when I come to town.”

I was impressed. “Wow, this is cool. I have a dumping ground for my no-longer-needed body parts…” I joked about imparting wisdom to her, etc…

There were no real side effects. I wasn’t constantly biting down on it any more, which will improve my disposition in the long run. I feared dry socket, but it seems mostly healed over already. It hasn’t affected my eating habits, but I won’t be having Doritos anytime soon.

On my way out of work, I showed the graveyard guy. “Wow.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”


“Don’t try to outdo me on this one, mmmkay? I win the tough guy competition tonight.”

“Wow. I don’t know what I could do. Throw my knee out of socket? Pop my eyeball out and clean it? Wow.”

Now *I* was impressed. “I don’t know if I’d enjoy seeing that, but I’d sure watch. And you would win! Save that one for tomorrow night…”

And on that note, a hearty ‘fuck you’ to those who say Portland isn’t manly enough…


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