Strawberry Gloves Forever

I kept punching my memory foam pillow and readjusting my sleeping position within my down comforter cocoon, but I just couldn't ignore it.

My wisdom teeth were growing out in full vengeance. They were violently penetrating my fragile gums and trying to make their {teeth} mark in this world. And instead of counting sheep, I was trying to decide whether to rank this higher than period pains or not. 

 

I picked up my favorite croissant on the way to work this morning and happily plopped down on my office chair to get a bite before my conference call. I opened my mouth, ahhed, and closed it again. Food wasn't even worth it anymore. The receptionist was unsympathetically happy at my plight because it turned out that she hadn't had breakfast either. 

Your pain = someone else's gain.

I even looked at some GMAT practice questions today during lunch and was disappointed that I didn't get two full wisdom teeth's bump in IQ points. 

As a self-respecting adult, I naturally sent whiny SOS texts to my parents. My dad said to contact mom and make an appointment with the dentist right away. My mom, majorly proud that she's never had wisdom teeth before (her fun party fact), told me that 1. I was probably not getting my wisdom teeth and 2. I might just have Korean BBQ infection. 

I knew it. She wasn't happy with me texting her back at 1:30 am with the excuse of hanging out with friends. I suppose parents have to sneak their lectures in somewhere.

Hopefully, the dentist will wear strawberry-tasting gloves when the time comes. 

Korean BBQ with American roommate, French intern, 

and Uzbeki Russian friend in China.

United Nations much?