There's an old Italian saying: you fuck up once, you lose two teeth.

I'm going to the dentist soon, and of course, that reminds me of a story...

Embarrassment seems to be a running theme through the interwebs these last few days. Pajiba asked commenters to write down their secret shame albums. No, I won't write mine here, you can dig over there for it. And then of course, there is always Meg, who has become my sister-in-awkwardness.

Now, those who have been coming here for a while know that I have a rare gift for this stuff. In between numerous (and ridiculous) injuries and my inability to keep my mouth shut, I may hold some sort of regional record for embarrassment. So I figure, what the hell. Let's give the people what they want, and give you another tale of woe. And I must warn you, it's pretty graphic.

Shortly before I went to college, I went to the dentist. I suppose I should mention (while I'm embarrassing myself) that I am notoriously bad at going to the dentist, so I hadn't been in a while. Like years. The fact that I have a strange phobia about people prodding at my face (seriously - and don't get me started on how much the eye doctor freaks me out), and I've historically had bad experiences at the dentist, I'm a little nervous. But, my dad is making me, and when my dad says go, I go.

And it turns out that (surprise) I need a bunch of fillings. And since I'm leaving for college soon, the dentist suggests I do it all at once. Fine. I come back a couple of days later, and settle in for one of the single most uncomfortable experiences of my life. Fillings, repeated Novocaine shots (in the mouth - shudder), and dental drills. Awesometown. Population: Me.



Anyway, we're moving along. I'm dizzy with pain, getting my fillings, getting the shots, etc. It's brutal. My doc gets a phone call, so he breaks and tells me if I need to use the bathroom, I can use the one to the left of the door.

He very specifically points out which direction to go. I head over there, and it's locked. So I nonchalantly go through the waiting room to the waiting room bathroom. As I'm walking through, I see a number of crying children and scared looking parents.

Weird, I think. I wonder what that shit's all about?

*shrug*

I get into the bathroom, do my thing, and go to wash my hands. And then... I look in the mirror.

Oh.My.Fucking.God.

I look like someone's nightmare. I look... words can barely describe it. The Novocaine has made my lower jaw swell tremendously. I didn't realize it until that moment, but I can't actually close my mouth. My tongue is literally hanging out, also swollen. I am wearing a bib that is covered in bloody spittle. And, worst of all, I am drooling uncontrollably. I mean CONSTANTLY. A steady stream of blood and drool is pouring out of my mouth, running down the bib and onto my pants. I basically look like Rawhead Rex.



And I just strolled through a room full of already-nervous children and their parents.

And now I have to go back through the waiting room. I open the door, and everyone in the waiting room has been staring at the door while I was in there (probably hoping that they either hallucinated me, or that I'm an extra in a horror movie). I come out, and say "Oh, I am so sorry", except that I can't actually talk. So it's basically just me going

"awg, irmf ggorf blarshie"

and more drooling.

Not my finest moment, people. Not one bit.

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Listening to: Uncle Tupelo - Moonshiner