Sunday, April 13, 2008
New Tongue in Cheek
What a weekend. I spent it sitting on a lawn chair in my living room with my mouth full of ice cubes. I had myself some oral surgery and the ice was to help the swelling go down....and the lawn chair was because while I was having surgery, someone came and stole all my furniture. Other than that, the procedure went great. Even my doctor Barry said, "I imagine a tongue transplant can't be too difficult." And he was right. I'm lucky I found the right doctor for this procedure. Thanks Craigslist!
Let me back up. I've had the same tongue for as long as I can remember. And at first things were great. When I was a kid I'd look at stuff on the ground and wonder, "what's THAT taste like?" and then my tongue would lick it. It was perfect...for a while. The problems started when I was in high school. While kissing my girlfriend one day, all the sudden my tongue wanted to get in on the action, and tried to enter HER mouth. She freaked out and called me a 'pervert', then stormed off. As she left I tried to explain it wasn't me it was my tongue, but it came out "OH YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT!" I couldn't believe my tongue could do that to me. From then on, whenever a pretty lady walked by there was the constant drooling, whistling, and panting. It was embarrassing.
Worst of all was the way my tongue would just lay around in my mouth all day. Just sitting there staring at the back of my teeth, like a bum. I would try to form words when speaking to someone but my tongue refused to move.
Then of course, there was his alcohol problem. It got ugly.
Well, a couple weeks ago I wake up and my tongue was passed out in my head, from his Spring Break in Cancun. That's when I saw it. A long, metal barbell was sticking through a fresh, fleshy hole in MY cranium.
My tongue went and got itself pierced.
That was the last straw. So I found Doctor Barry on the internet, where all of life's answers are found. He specializes in procedures done in the back of his gutted ice cream truck, which eliminates the whole driving to the hospital problem. I asked Doctor Barry where he got my new tongue from, and he said "First of all, don't call me doctor, and second, where's the cash?" Ha Ha, that Barry.
I think my new tongue came from a religious, Mexican woman because since my surgery, I've been waking up in the middle of the night screaming, "EL DIABLO ESTA EN MI! EL DIABLO ESTA EN MI!" And I never knew how to speak Spanish before.
But even better news, I sold my old, crappy tongue for $50!