Rant 15: Kiri Vs His Own Teeth

Written December 29th, 2008


"I need to check and see if my email is getting any messages, It's been two

days and I havn't gotten anything."

"OK, what's the Address?"

"Two oh s"

"No, no. Your email address."

"Oh. Uh....@%$#........at @#$%.net."

"One second...OK, yeah, there's quite a few in there."

"Well I just have this one from April, and it won't delete."

"What program are you using?"

"Uh.....I....uh....I don't know what you're asking me."

"What program are you opening to check your email?"


*Facepalm loud enough my co-workers turned* "No, that's not an email program."

"I uh....I don't understand."

"When you go to check your email, what icon do you click on?"

"Uh...it has like, a little flag....and I don't know. I'm not in the room with

the computer, how about I call you on my cell when I'm infront of it?"

She hangs up, calls back in five minutes.

"Alright, you're in front of the machine now, right?"

"Yes, and...my thing doesn't work."

"...What thing?"

"My thingy. I can't move my thingy."

"...The mouse?"

"My...little arrow thingy."

"It isn't responding?"


"Then it probably locked up. Go ahead and restart the computer."



"Alright, is it back on?"


"OK, go to your email program, and open it up."

"...OK, it's open."

"Check at the top of the window, what's the name of the program?"

"...I don't understand."

". . .Alright, go to tools."


"Accounts, Mail, and how many accounts do you have in there?"


"The large white box under the mail tab."

"It isn't doing anything."

"There's nothing in that box?"


"Nothing at all?"


"...What do you see?"



"In that white box."

"Double click on it."


We check settings, boring filler.

"Alright, your settings SOUND OK, open your browser."


"Internet Explorer."

"Huh? What's that?"

"It's your internet browser, how you access websites."

"Where's that?"

"It's a big Blue E on your desktop."

"My what?"

"Your main window."

"All I see now is Windows mail."

"(Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.) Ok, then you're running Vista."


"Your operating system is Windows Vista. Your mail program is Windows mail."


"Click on on the Start button in your left hand corner."


"Internet Explorer should pop up as the top icon."

"OK. Open it?"


"...It says page cannot be displayed."

"Then you have no internet right now."

"But that wouldn't effect my email would it?"

"Yes, yes it would."

It's been a few months and we have a lot of shit to cover, class. Now that that call is out of the way, let's move from work to the happenings in the existence of Fox. Shit's been frustrating. I managed to have my wisdom teeth cut out Friday, since one of them was entering my mouth at a 90 degree angle. I shit you not, the bottom left tooth was coming up horizontally. This was scheduled for a Friday so that I could hopefully spend the weekend in my chair at home playing Warcraft and Mega Man X, but of course that would have been too awesome. Friday starts off with me in the waiting room of the dentist's office, hungry enough to eat the chewed gum out from under the seats. Which I did not do, since I really don't care for Dentyne. The appointment is at 11:15 AM, I arrive at about 10:55AM. Good stuff, I fill out the paper work and take a seat.

To my horror, the TV in the waiting room starts to play "Ellen." Ellen DeGeneres is the most unfunny lesbian ever, of all time. Let's get this straight, I LOVE lesbians. But not this one, she is the only one I have ever seen that could bore me to sleep. Well, at least the first one who wasn't wearing a flannel shirt or was sporting a mullet. I assured myself that soon someone would have a knife in my mouth, and my suffering would be over. That sweet release saw more delay than Duke Nukem Forever. I was destined to suffer through the entire show, realizing why people don't work the night shift.

About 12:10PM they decided that it was my turn, and called me to the back to get started. The 85 year old nurse lead me to a chair in the back and decided that she had to ask me if I was nervous. "Why would I be? You're just going to pump me with a chemical which in higher doses is used for lethal injection, stab me in the mouth, and remove four bones from my face. It beats the hell out of doing tech support." She didn't seem to get it, so fuck her. She took the IV line and poked me in the elbow joint, then started the drip.

Sodium Pentothal I think? I've been told they tell you to count back from 10, most people get to 7 or 8. I was still around for a lot longer than that. Not sure if I was supposed to be out, I started counting myself, got to about 20 before I dozed off. This was not to last, as I woke up before they were ready. who I'm assuming was the doctor was standing there talking to the nurse. She glanced over, I went out. I woke up again as he was putting on his gloves, the nurse adjusted the drip. I MAY have woken up a third time, but I'm not 100%. It takes a lot more than a chemical meant to kill someone to make Fox relax, lightweights.

What seemed like 10 minutes later, I wake up and they're helping me out of the seat. What happened between that second and the car I am unsure of, but apparently I was a dick. The doctor gave me nothing for the pain, they just rushed me out. I was reported to be an ass on the way home. I guess the chemical lived up to it's name of "Truth Serum." In truth, I apparently fucking hate everyone. I am taken to my parent's house, growl at a few people then go to sleep with gauze in my mouth. My mother had picked me up from this appointment, as they would not put me under without someone else to drive me away.

Waking up, I find myself ravenous. I spit out two blood soaked pads, eat a plate of scrambled eggs, rinse, then stuff another two gauze pads in and go back to sleep. I have just fucked up, though it does not become obvious until two hours later. I wake up sweating, dizzy, and angrier than earlier. I have no idea what I've done, but I spend fifteen minutes sitting on the edge of the the bathtub. In this time I am on the verge of throwing up, but not quite getting there. It's pretty unpleasant, as I'd rather puke and be done with it than suffer. During this episode I removed the gauze, as it wasn't helping my nausea. About twenty minutes later I find myself hungry again, I hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day aside from the eggs. This time I go for something with a better track record, pasta. (Which apparently I wasn't supposed to eat. Oh well.)

This record I speak of, is short and sweet. No matter how poorly cooked it was, pasta has only make me sick once, and it was spaghetti. Exhaling spaghetti is something everyone should avoid if possible, especially if they lack the patience to chew their food. Admittedly, getting the same noodle out your nose and in your mouth us pretty damn funny though....at least for everyone else.

This worked fine for the most part, until I went to rinse the delicious Zita meat sauce from my wounds. I looked back at the hole left by my impacted tooth, and found myself staring into eternity itself. I was pretty sure that if I had taken a pencil, eraser first, and leaned my head back, I could have poked my brain. That is if not for the noodle that had managed to find it's way into my gaping chasm of a wound. I rinsed, rinsed again, and tweezed at it, but with no results. I decided after a ten minute fight, that I would just save it for later.

As of now, I'm pretty awake. I log onto Warcraft and stumble around Stranglethorn, picking flowers for an hour or so before I call it quits and go to sleep again. In the morning I wake up, stretch, and decide to go home. I change back into what I had worn the previous day, with the intention to go home and get a shower before throwing on clean clothes.

As I arrive at the apartment, I am greeted to a deadbolt. I am now locked out of my home, smelling like yesterday in a blood covered shirt. I literally noticed at that exact moment, I had dribbled blood all over my shirt. Well I KNOW my roommate is home, let's just wake her ass up. I Knock, nothing. I bang on the door, nothing. I call her cell, and can hear it through the door. Shit, it's downstairs, she sleeps upstairs. I throw rocks at her window, nothing. I thank my roommate for locking me out of my own home while I was out for surgery with what I describe as an "Orgy of Profanity." To awaken this person, I would have had to drive my car INTO the living room, then honk for a good four minutes. The other option involves kicking in the glass sliding door, but since I just spent all my extra scratch on getting a knife in my mouth, I pass on the idea. At this point I am pissed beyond pissed. I can honestly say the mix between this, the drugs, and the money I've had to spend, I have never been as mad as I was then. I banged on the door for several minutes to no avail. Well, how long could she possibly sleep? Noon apparently. In frustration I left, and FOUR HOURS LATER I got a call from her, having just gotten the message I left her. Saturday the 20th, out of food. I storm home in a state of anger that can only be described in the phrase: "I was mad enough to beat a sack of puppies to death with a sack of kittens." Luckily for her, she was already gone by the time I arrived. I go upstairs and set my laptop down, my wounds once again bleeding from my anger.

Looking back from today, (The 29th) I try to remember why I had my wisdom teeth pulled, one was uncomfortable. Now I have to spray salt water directly into my wounds to keep them clean, that's much better than mild discomfort.