No, that isn't the start of some very strange love poem. That is something I could say to my orthodontist, not that I ever will, but it is true. Her nostrils are becoming all too familiar to me after all the visits to have my teeth pushed and pulled with varying instruments of dental torture. By now I could probably even draw them from memory, right down to the very last hair.
P, if you're reading this, they're quite nice as nostrils go, not at all too hairy.
(Wouldn't want to get on her bad side, now would I? After all, she is the one with all the wires and pliers and stuff).
But there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's not the one on the ceiling of her office. Catgirl and Princess V's teeth are finally free, and that's an incentive for me to keep dragging my butt down there and plunking down the cash for the next adjustment. The truth is that my jaw is much better...probably because my brain is now focused on how hard it is to eat anything without getting it stuck in all this #*%$ing metal (nothing like braces to bring all the rude words to your mouth, or in my case to my blog). Hey, I'm even having a hard time finding my teeth under all the shackles. My brain is in fact focusing so hard on all this, that nothing is coming to mind for a new post....damn, just when my blog's been in the paper too. Oh well, it's a good thing I'm over at Scrivel today. I'll be bringing you some exciting news about remote control contraceptives. You really don't want to miss this. And if you do, don't come whining to me nine months from now.
...Hey, would you look at that, I wrote a post after all.
And if you go over to Scrivel I promise you'll never have to look up anyone's nostrils...well, maybe only sometimes.