Flip Flopper

I used to be a strong anti-flip-flop guy...but I kind of flip flopped on the issue *this is your cue to laugh* Ya, I used to have a lot of reason why not to wear flip-flops. Seriously, you can't run in the things. They make this loud flip-flop noise. They're flimsy. Not to mention, over fifty percent of flip-flops are pink.

Anyways, I figured some stuff out. You can run flip flops, and if you feel like they're slowing you down to much you can just kick 'em off and go barefoot (barefoot is like pure awesomeness and speed...however your mom might complain). They're cheap, so you can like buy ten different pairs, in plaid, leather, canvas, stripes, or even pink...just kidding on the last one. On top of that, they're the only footwear other than All Stars that look good with shorts. If you still don't buy it try wading into the mall fountain collecting your shopping change in your Nikes, it's a lot harder to explain to the mall cop why you destroyed your Air Jordans, than it is to say that you just felt like wading and there wasn't a sign prohibiting it.

I'mm Fiinnne

At the orders of a good friend (and future sister-in-law), I haven't written a blog post for a while. The reason why, involves a doctor with a drill and some really cool scuba diving equipment. Yeah, I got my wisdom teeth ripped out, and my good friend informed me that I could NOT write a post for at least a week...otherwise I would seriously regret it. Because I've been told the pain meds had me thinking funny. Anyways, here's the story from my perspective.

To start out with I had braces stuck in my mouth for two years of my childhood...yeah, not something I wanna repeat. However, they did make it so my teeth were straight and my front teeth didn't hang out way in front of everything else...including my lips. But then a few months ago I went to my dentist and he tells me "you've gotta get your wisdom teeth pulled out or they'll mess up all the good your braces did." All I could say at the time was something to the effect of "uh hoh" seeing as the dentist had his hands poking around in my mouth.

Whirr- Fast forward a few months. I'm coming in for my pre-operation appointment thing where they tell you how much it's gonna hurt and that they're draining your life savings while they're at it. They also handed me a cute little brochure which I'm positive was designed using the default Microsoft Publisher design (remember, I am a graphic designer). In this brochure they discreetly go about telling you A. Starve yourself before showing up B. It's gonna hurt C. Don't do anything for a week and D. Your parents have to buy your ice cream and yogurt. What they skip is actually telling you what they're gonna do...so I asked. "The doctor uses a drill to break your teeth apart and then they pull the pieces out," that nurse was a lot better at being concise than that brochure.

Whirr- Fast forward a couple weeks. Now I'm coming in to have them actually do stuff. After waiting a half hour (I really wish doctors could learn this thing called punctuality), I get led back and they tell me to change out of my shirt into this quadruple extra large hospital shirt/apron thing. Wearing that shirt was, honestly, the worst part of the whole thing. Then they take me to another room where I sit down in a cool chair and a bunch of nurses run around poking me with stuff and wiring my fingers. They had a problem though, my fingers were too cold for their finger sensor thing so now I have a nurse sitting there rubbing my hand and trying to get it warm...it was really hard not to burst out laughing. Eventually they got my hand warm, and all the wires straightened out...and that's when they hooked up the scuba gear and I passed out...well actually they told me to start breathing deeply and I started to wonder what sorta drill they used...I'm pretty sure it isn't a DeWalt...and then I passed out.

Whirr- Fast forward an hour or two. I've been told that I walked and talked a bit before this, but I remember coming round in this post-op room where my mom and a nurse are talking and it seems like I had my t-shirt back...thank goodness for that. After listening to and mostly forgetting a handful of directions we walk out to the car. Currently I feel a bit woozy and super hungry. This is time for a side note: I'm hypoglycemic, which means I feel really nasty and am a total grouch when I don't eat on a regular schedule...skipping breakfast and lunch really does not make for me being a happy camper: end side note. My mom has got a prescription for pain meds and for some reason I don't know we had to get the pain meds before I got my milkshake. This has to be embarrassing for my mom as we go through the Rite Aid drive-thru and I'm sitting here a bit woozy and rather annoyed with her for not getting me my milkshake yet. Finally she gets me a milkshake and I drip it all over my white t-shirt the way home (have you ever tried not to make a mess eating a milkshake with completely numb lips).

Whirr- Fast forward a day. I sat around and watched Burn Notice, Chuck, and other TV on Hulu.com while eating my ice cream and yogurt...life was good. Then I find out our hay was being baled so that evening I drove a truck and trailer while my dad loaded hay on and then helped my dad unload the hay into the barn, all the while laughing at what the doctor would've said...but hay, nobody got run over or anything. I felt pretty with it by the time my mom got on the freeway heading for home, however I've been told I was loopy for the next day or so. Believe who ever you want...but I'm right.

Yes, I did mean to spell "hey" "hay" in the third to last paragraph.