When I was a younger man I once wrote an epic poem called "oral surgery." It was more or less just adolescent whining about being given the "let's just be friends" speech from a nurse I thought I was dating. As painful and angst-ridden as that time was, I would much rather go through that again than what I have in store for me this afternoon.

As soon as I post this message I'm leaving to go get my lower wisdom teeth extracted. I guess I should just be happy that I didn't name that poem something like, "anal probe." I'm just sayin'.