I feel that I need to warn you that I may have sunk to an all new blogging low. So, if you’re offended by my posts which are rife with tasteless content, turn and run now.
Run like the wind.
Today we made the hour plus change journey into the city to spring Fiddledaddy’s computer from the Apple computer hospital in the mall, where it was being fixed.
And the Apple store? I had to be thrown out. That is my favorite shop in the mall. In the whole world, even. I believe I put my fingerprints on every single computer apparatus in the entire store. And there was one 20 inch model computer screen that I may have thrown myself across.
And that’s when security was dispatched.
Because he didn’t want the adventure to end on a sour note, Fiddledaddy treated me to lunch at California Pizza Kitchen.
But there was an incident.
We were thoroughly enjoying our Garlic Cheese Pizza when all of a sudden, I bit my tongue.
I’ve spent a good deal of my adult life biting my tongue, but this time I drew blood. Childbirth was not as painful.
As evidenced by the wailing and writhing in murderous pain that ensued.
There was no relief. Fiddledaddy was rewarded for listening to me carrying on by getting the last piece of pizza. For I vowed only to drink my dinner from now on. Amen.
Later this evening, I was still discussing my tongue, although it was difficult to understand me as the SWELLING had begun.
Concerned, Fiddledaddy told me that I immediately needed to go put rubbing alcohol on it, to ward off infection.
He must think I’m new. Like he wouldn’t yank my chain, despite my agony.
Then he suggested that we take a picture of the wound. At first I resisted, because, ewwww. But then I remembered who I was and I ran to grab the camera.
After he saw the picture, he was all YOU CANNOT PUT THAT ON YOUR BLOG. And I was all HAVE YOU MET ME? OF COURSE I’M GOING TO PUT THAT ON MY BLOG!
It is really much worse than it looks.
I’ll be taking my breakfast through a straw.
Has anyone ever died from a tongue infection?