My very nice oral surgeon and his cute little cronies caught me off guard and knocked me out the other day. Their reasoning behind this was so that they could brutally rip out my wisdom teeth and fill my mouth with gauze without me ever being the wiser... literally. Unfortunately for them I figured out what happened and sent them a short little note demanding the return of my teeth. As a sick joke they sent me what they called pain pills. Very appropriately named. These white little beauties were just another laugh on their part as they made me rather... uh... nauseated. No doubt if I had continued to take them as they instructed, I would be dead. Thankfully, my dear Fin has experienced the exact same thing and was able to tell me, before it was to late, about the evilness in the pills. Since then I have been slowly recovering which involves a lot of ice cream, pudding, mashed potatoes, and sleep.
So... uh... there you have it. The full... er... story. Eh-hm. Moving on.
I pass on the job of appeasing the thronging fans who have been demanding more from their favorite blogger, to Adam Young. Because old songs, or new, he always makes me want to write music. I give you Owl City.
May his awesome toy room thrill you as much as it does me.