I just woke up with no pants on. I don’t remember taking them off, but Drew says he helped me. I hope that’s all I don’t remember.

I’m still pretty much under the influence of my anesthetic and vicodin, but if the Beatles did all their best work while blitzed out of their mind, I figured maybe it was a good time to post to the blog in hopes of achieving some kind of tripped-out genius. There’s also the chance this won’t make any damn sense, but that can be fun, too.

When I showed up at the oral surgeon’s office this morning, the receptionist asked, “Are you ready?” I said, “Not really”. And she said, “Well we’re ready.” And I said, “Well, I guess that’s more important.” I figured that would be the last joke I’d make for a while, but brother, was I wrong.

The wisdom teeth removal wasn’t so bad. The nurse gave me nitrous oxide, and my first reaction was, “I don’t like this!” But she wouldn’t take it off, and within about ten seconds, I was laughing uncontrollably and saying, “Bwaa-ha-ha-ha, I see why they call this ha ha laughing gas! HAAAAAAAAA!” I knew it wasn’t a funny joke, but I seriously could not stop laughing. I hope she realized it was just the gas talking.

As the doctor tried to put me under, he kept trying to talk about sports. I’m usually not in the mood for chit-chat when people are sticking tubes up my arm, no matter what the topic, but this definitely wasn’t a conversation I was interesting in having. I had been pretty sure this doctor was gay, but now I had my doubts. Not that there aren’t gay people who know about sports, but most of them wouldn’t use the topic as a go-to with another gay man. He was wondering what sporting events were going on right now that I might be able to watch on TV all weekend. He said it was too bad the playoffs were over (which playoffs? I have no idea), and that the US Open in golf was last weekend. I’m like, “If you’re going to talk about golf, you won’t need that anesthesia. Zzzzzzzz…” Then, in case there were any doubts about my persuasion, I mentioned Wimbledon was going on, and tennis is about the only sport I know anything about anyway. He said something about that old woman who’s playing and just won her match. I’m like, I get it! You’re straight! P.S. Her name is Martina Navratalova, and she lost in the second round. Then I guess the drugs took effect, because that’s all I remember.

Drew says that when they brought him in to see me after the operation, the first thing I said was that the nurse and I had just been discussing Shakespeare and Kierkegaard. I believe that was my first ever Kierkegaard joke. And this is without wisdom teeth. Score one for irony, and another for nitrous oxide.

Then we made a trip to the supermarket, which I don’t remember at all. I should always go to the supermarket when recovering from anesthesia, because I brought home nothing but good stuff. We bought ice cream, muffins and cookies, all of which I love, and pudding, which I hate. But the vanilla pudding has been extremely tasty. If you’ve just had oral surgery and you’re operating on painkillers, I suggest trying new things.

Okay, time to pop another pill and go back to blissful, psychedelic dreamland.

Goo Goo G’Joob!

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