Dear Science

Dear science, I recently read that ancient Americans as early as 2500 years ago had the dental technology to plant diamonds, rubies, and other precious gems into the teeth of their warriors.

While anyone can now purchase a full set of platinum Grillz on a NYC streetcorner, it seems a couple areas of dental technology still lag behind the advances we’ve made in mouth jewelry.

Dear science, why? Why have wisdom teeth, braces, and a tonsillectomy at the age of 22 been three of the four horseman of my physical apocalypse? Day 5 is coming in the morning and I’m moving back to chicken broth. Not food yet. Broth. In three weeks I might be able to try softened pears, if I’m lucky. Ironic that I’ve made — and hope to make — a living out of my ability to talk to people, yet the biggest block to that happens to be my own mouth. The upside, when this is all over, is that health-wise I should be pretty smooth sailing again, at least until my jaw just decides to fall off or something.

All I know is that Nestle Quik commercial with the screaming kid in his bedroom and all the chocolate milk he wants set me up with unreasonable expectations for this surgery — and that kid and his cartoon rabbit friend are deceitful bastards.

On a lighter note, I’ve regained my love for Twitter after a couple surprising conversations with some important people. Stagnating in your room all day will do that for you, but it really reminds me how powerful, unique, and incredible of a tool social networking can be. More on that later… my broth is getting cold.