Here's a straightforward and compelling question:
If you were told that the next time you took a, um...Bowel Movement, there would be a $500 bill rolled up inside your stool, would you go after it?
I mean, of course it would be able to be cleaned, etc. But the fact remains that you'd have to go in for it. Nay, SEARCH for it. And it was rolled up in a very, very small little ball. You would have to find some way to capture it, separate it, and extract your treasure.
(For those of you totally grossed out right now, I would like to direct you to the subject matter of your OWN blogs....thick cervical mucus, heavy spotting with clots... I mean, that's just NASTY.)
Now, back to the subject matter at hand. Where have I come up with such an insightful, engaging question, you may wonder? Because I currently find myself in this very situation, with a slight twist.
You see, on Friday I had a delicious piece of pizza for lunch. BBQ chicken, if you must know. M and The Buggins gave me their colds, so I wasn't feeling great and I could barely taste the pizza, but what I could taste was magnificent. If you ever get the chance to eat BBQ chicken pizza from my company's cafeteria, I strongly recommend you do so.
Anyway, I've also been struggling a little lately with a loose crown in the back of my mouth. Right side, bottom, all the way back. One of the big ones. A molar. One of the working teeth. The Mack Truck of the dental set. Don't remember when I got this crown, but somehow it got loose. They are NEVER supposed to get loose, by the way. But this one did. For the last 10 days or so, whenever I accidentally chewed with my right side, off it popped. I became an expert in slipping the sucker back on with no one noticing.
Why did I let it go so long? Because I'm not that smart. Also, because I have a dentist appt next week for a cleaning, so I figured I'd have him slap on some crazy glue while I was there. I hate going to the dentist, or any doctor.
Back to the pizza. I was savoring every last bite, while at the same time getting pizza grease all over my mouse as I surfed the web. When I finished, I cleaned my desk and turned to throw out my trash, when my tongue gently brushed up against a rather rocky surface where my nice smooth crown had once been.
I ate the freaking thing.
At least, I assume I ate it. It was there when I started eating my pizza, and it was gone when I was done.
So after I sat there with a stupid look on my face for about 10 minutes, I called the Dentist to ask how serious it would be to go the weekend without the crown. Not serious at all, they said. But then that's not all they said.
"Can you retrieve it?"
"Uh, no. I ate it."
"Yes, I mean when it emerges out the other end, can you retrieve it? We could of course completely sterilize it."
"Lady, there is not enough sterilizing solution in the WORLD..."
"OK, your choice. But if you can find it and bring it with you, it will save you about $500."
Whoa. 500 bucks. That would leave a mark on the checking account. I didn't fully realize that my problem was no longer just that there was no crown for them to put back on, it was that they'd have to make a whole NEW one, and that's not cheap. That was one F'ING expensive piece of pizza.
So I'm sitting here, still sick as a dog, on Sunday night pondering my next, um, move. It would likely show up in the next round, but it seems my digestive system has completely shut down out of sheer terror over what I'm contemplating.