Friday Saturday Morning Hodgepodge

Yesterday was kind of a bust, what with the whole trip to the dentist and the subsequent root canal and the coming home SANS PRESCRIPTION (if you can believe that bullshit), so I figured I might as well take care of my blog-bligations today... Saturday... which is usually my time of the week for slacking and being exxxtra lazy and so on. Not that anyone reads ZFS! on the weekends, mind you... this is more of a "bored at work" type of website. Still, though... you're welcome.

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So yeah, the dentist... LAME. I had been to this guy before, so I kind of knew what to expect, but he was such an asshole. Like, competent and everything... he didn't gash open my gums with a rusty machete, nor did he replace my sore tooth with a potted plant, say, or a festive lawn gnome... but his bedside manner made Dr. Giggles look like Patch Adams. I've never before had a doctor visibly roll his eyes when I asked a simple question; it was like something from an episode of House, minus the wit, intelligence, good writing, and handsome British men posing as Americans.

Anyway, otherwise it went pretty smoothly. The whole shebang is going to cost me about $700, which I'm told that's a fairly reasonable rate for a root canal + crown procedure, and... like I said... it seems like he did a pretty good job. OH, but one thing that did suck... right at the beginning, he was tapping all my teeth with this curved, horror-show, pick thingy to test for pain and... when he got to the tooth in question... he managed to tap his little sharp, scary implement right on the sweet spot, as it were. The pain was so intense, I nearly shit my pants. Seriously, I saw a GALAXY of stars and everything went all swimmy for a minute and somewhere, off in the distance, I heard Satan laughing his ass off.

It was way uncool. Lousy necessary dental work.

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Okay, so I know I'm way behind on this... and I usually don't like dipping my toes into the fetid, gooey, celebrity sex-scandal waters... but how can one not talk about the VERNE TROYER SEX TAPE OH MY GOD I CAN'T STOP VOMITING?!?! I mean nothing against little dudes and their God-given right to get it on with ladies of regular size or whatever, but seriously... and I'm pretty sure I speak for everyone... no one wants to see that. Even less so than the Gene Simmons tape. Even less so than the Screech-gives-a-girl-the-ol'-Dirty-Sanchez tape. Sex is supposed to be a beautiful thing between two people who love each other, OR it's supposed to be really hot and raunchy and full of language that would make dockworkers faint onto chaise lounges like Victorian-era debutantes. What sex ISN'T supposed to be is a freak show grab for cash by nearly-faded stars from crappy Mike Myers movies. Ergo, NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOUR TINY PENIS HAVE TINY SEX WITH SAD STRIPPERS, MR. TROYER!!!

All clear on this? Good.

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Tonight, I'm going to a party hosted by Puerto Ricans in honor of their fifteen year old son's graduation from junior high into high school. It's kind of like a "quinceanera" but for a dude. Anyway, there's going to be FREE FOOD and an OPEN BAR and DANCING until they kick us the fuck out. A hell of a time is expected. I imagine you'll be seeing me on the eleven o'clock news, mooning from the top of a moving city bus while shotgunning rum like a frat pledge. So if anyone would mind Tivoing that, I'd really appreciate it. My mom likes to keep a video scrapbook of all my public appearances/arrests.