I feel like a perv
The two movies lined up in my netflix queue designed to help me through this weekend’s wisdom-teeth-removal aftermath?
Swimming Pool and Showgirls.
It dawns on me that both these movies are a bit… racy. Well, I’ve never seen Showgirls, so maybe it’s not racy so much as foolish. (I’ve never seen Swimming Pool either, but it comes more critically aclaimed.) The pair were designed to appeal to my drama bone and my funny bone, respectively. Looking back on it though, they may just appeal to my titilated bone.
Maybe sensuality and soft core are the ways I deal with impending terror. If this oral surgeon can keep me in the waiting room on Friday, that’s half the battle right there.
Okay, I want to cry now.
(Oh and don’t post your tooth horror stories - this is real terror, not just the fake kind I usually ascribe to.)
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