It wasn't until I got into the office and they put the info in front of me that I truly understood what I was in for. I heard words like "Vicodin" and "nitrous oxide" and "four hundred dollars." And I thought-- setting my impending poverty aside-- You mean this is going to be horrible and painful enough that I'll need nitrous DURING and Vicodin AFTER?" Hell.

So here I am. Instead of running errands and doing stuff that requires "thinking" and "talking," I'm at home, hopped up on Vicodin, still reeling a little from the gas, and drooling glamorously.

The worst thing about all of this is that they only do half your mouth at a time. Half of my mouth has been ravaged and cleaned and punished, and now I get to go through my entire vacation with half my mouth new and the other half used. And then two days after I come home, I get to go through all this crap with the scraping and the whirring and the suction all over again. That is the worst!

Actually, no, I take it back. The worst part is paying such a lot of money to be tortured. There goes my vacation fund. Truly, there it goes.

The procedure itself wasn't so bad. I had a moment of panic when the gas first began to kick in, because it's kind of scary to be drugged like that. It's the strangest feeling; I felt as if I were spinning and spinning, only without getting dizzy. And then everything started to seem very vague and far away. I expected time to telescope on me (like it did when I had my tooth pulled) but it didn't. Time stretched out, and I tried to focus on the Muzak, and find my happy place.

I thought about such random shit, each thing flitting through my brain for thirty seconds or so. Friendster, writing this entry, the wine guy, movie previews, my schedule (even the gas does not let me escape), the bagel I had for breakfast, and mutual funds vs. IRAs. I think I even did kegels at one point. Why? Who the hell knows!

It seemed to take a really long time. When they took the gas mask off I thought they were done, but it continued for what seemed like forever after that. (All I kept thinking was, "I miss the gas. Where did the gas go? Gaaaaaas!") It was slightly uncomfortable and certainly not fun in any way, but mostly I was just bored. Especially once the effect of the gas had ebbed somewhat. (Gaaaaaas!)

I walked out into the waiting room and discovered my first problem: an absolute inability to smile-- for instance, at the guy who was waiting for his name to be called. I settled for a drooly grimace and thought, Aw yeah. I am so hot right now.

I had no idea I was so damn smiley. I smile at everyone, apparently. I was driving away in my car when the White Stripes came on and I couldn't even smile all, "Yay! White Stripes!" and it felt so unnatural. I didn't know I smiled to myself in the car, for crying out loud.

Then I had to get an oil change and fill my Vicodin prescription, which entailed interacting with people, which I cannot seem to do without smiling. They all got me with half of my face smiling charmingly, the other half puffy, numb, drooling, and gaping. I looked like a pufferfish having some sort of attack.

Now I am mostly just hungry, but I am not allowed to eat until the anaesthetic wears off. (May I just say I spelled "anaesthetic" correctly on the first try? I'm shocked.) But as the anaesthetic wears off, the pain marches in. No, no, no. I don't like pain. Where's the gas? Gaaaaaas!

I'm also supposed to rinse my mouth with salt water three times a day. In addition, I'm supposed to be sticking my piercing in salt water twice a day. Like so:

Pretty soon I will be filling up a giant tub with salt water and just soaking in it. Salt water is apparently the cure for anything. I will dip myself in salt water and immediately lose 40 more pounds and have a boyfriend.

Speaking of boys, I have ____ the Wine Guy. (Remember Paul the Wine Guy from Friends? I have my own ____ the Wine Guy.) He's actually a friend of a friend at work, and I met him and liked him, and now they (my friend and her boyfriend) want to set me up with him. Apparently they have been plotting this for some time.

This is noteworthy not only because his name is ____ the Wine Guy, but because it is a very cool feeling when your friends want to fix you up. Even if nothing comes of it, it makes me feel like they think I am a good catch for their friend the Wine Guy. You know what I mean?

Anyway, my mouth is starting to hurt a lot, and I'm going to go. The Vicodin will probably knock me out any second now, and maybe a nap is in order. Or maybe I'll sneak over to Starbucks and steal some whipped cream chargers, and huff them. That's nitrous, right? That'll make me spin, right?

Mmm. Drugs.