Ha. Fuck that.
If I was weak, I'd be in the damn ground by now. Granted, aint always been as strong as was needed, but I'm a damn sight from weak. Bless your heart for thinking it, though.
Yesterday, I was just a little bit short of badass.
So I've been planning to move to Portland for a while, like, okay, a month or something, but still... here I am. Being badass. Why does it make me badass to live in a place fueled by bad fashion and PBR? Well, it doesn't, but the way I got here kinda, well, it's badass.
A little history: I f'ing hate dentists. "OH big whoop Blaze, we all hate dentists." No, no, you aint understand. I really hate the fuckers. When I was a wee lad, I went in for some cavities or some shit. And they had to drill, so I sit in the chair, and they shoot me full of junk, and they leave the room and wait for it to take effect. And I'm in the chair, and I'm waiting, and I'm waiting, and I'm in the chair, and I'm waiting. Maybe they went for a round of golf, or like some of that kinky dentist/assistant drugsex that everyone knows is going on. Whatever... I was there, waiting, and waiting, and then they came in. They fired up the PainDrill, and they propped my damn mouth open, and they started working... and I started screaming because that shit FUCKING HURT, and they told me no it didn't, you're numb, blah blah. No, bitches, I was numb An Hour Ago when you left... so they did this whole fucking mouth full of bullshit to me, as a kid, with fading painkillers. So I have kind of a trigger when I think dentists. My trigger reaction is to immediately want to grab a powerdrill and perform freelance trepenation on a fucker in a white jacket.
But then I got a damn infection... aaaand I had to go to the crentist. So I did, and they seemed cool, had awesomely intelligent assistants, and a rad ass doctor named Dr. Abraham Le. Place is called 8 to 8 Dental in Lynnwood. Check it out sometime. Anyway. So this guy was like "Dude, your shit is fucked up and I don't know how you aren't screaming right now." That's his words... except, okay, for the "Dude, your shit is fucked up" part. But the rest of it? Real quote. Said my infection was big. No options other than a root canal or extraction. I've left a lot of things behind lately, so I didn't want to lose another tooth. Plus, my mother gave it to me, so I'm kind of attached. I opt for the canal.
What the fuck, Blaze, what the fuck does this have to do with the price of rice? Shut up, bro. I'm getting there.
|Fine, if you insist, here's some damn statistics.|
So the week passes, and it's time for the canal. I log on from home to my work vpn... it crashes. Log on, crashes, log on, crashes. A hundred and fifty fucking times in an eight hour period... I was unable to do a freaking thing. So I talk to my boss.
"Boss, I can't do anything."
"Blaze, you have to do stuff."
"Boss, I can move down to Portland tonight and do stuff tomorrow probably, but I'm getting a root canal. So I might need a bit of time to adjust to having Russian pit mining taking place in my face."
"You're the man, do it, do what you need, but the world is exploding without you being able to do stuff."
"Alright, I'll do my thing."
(Whole conversation is [Citation Needed])
So I go in for the root canal, and meet the amazingly attractive woman at the desk, who has me sign some shit and pay money. Then the awesomely attractive dental assistant comes in and proceeds to have wicked smart conversation with me about non-tooth stuff and has me sign more shit and then lay down in the chair. And I'm illing. And Dr. Le fades into existence and he's all "You ready bro?" I nod, plug myself in to The Name of the Wind Audiobook, and let him go to work.
I hate dentists, remember that? I was so comfortable with this dude and so confident in his skills just by his demeanor that I fell asleep while he was strip mining my #28. I woke up at one point, he's drilling and he laughs and says "Welcome back, you've been out for like 20 minutes..." somehow I hear this above the sounds of Kvothe saving Dena from the dracus. And I'm like, "Woah, sweet" and then I relax and he just does the rest of his thing. Then they patch me up, put on Mr. Temporary McFakeyTooth and hustle me out. No more prescriptions.
I walk out, face full of raw meat, holes, and plastic, jump in Galactica, and spool up.
|Not Pictured: Portland, OR.|
Now when I woke up... it was like someone hit me in the face with a rocket-hammer. But that's less badass.
The fact is, that I'm now in Portland, and I did it with style and badassery.
Feelin pretty damn good about my life right now.