Thanks For Nothing, Marlene

I have an announcement:

My gum has decided to FreAk tHe FuCk oUT.

And now I'm pissed.

See, I have this thing about my teeth. I like them. A lot. I even went so far as to buy a $6 stop watch at Wal-Mart for the specialized task of timing my daily teeth cleanings in 3 minute intervals. Thus, I am very proud of the fact that I have not had a cavity in 12 years, and I intended on keeping it that way for the next 80 years, or at least until my passing, which ever comes quicker. However, my gum has a hit a mid-life crisis, and instead of buying a flashy little sports car it has decided to deal with its frustration in another way - by growing over my back molar, a dark and unbrushable place, turning my visit to the dentist today from an excuse to get a mini-sample of Colgate into a trip of pure, unadulterated horror. "Sir, you have a cavity."

With villainous thoughts of Mr. Grumpy Gums seething through my mind, I decided some bitch needed to pay. I spent my remaining time in the dental chair scowling and plotting the beastliest means of revenge against the world my twisted being could muster. After the most painfully vigorous flossing of my life from "Marlene", I finally got to enact the retaliation that I had so meticulously planned out.

I went to Kripsy Kreme.

And every bite of that Chocolate Iced Kreme Filled doughnut was another stab of revenge, a sweet, sweet stab of revenge straight to Marlene's jugular.