I think which teeth it covers depends on which teeth you grind, Kristin, but they really aren't uncomfortable, especially after the first couple of days.
'Trash'
Spike's Bitches 33: Weeping, crawling, blaming everybody else
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Backflung, brenda.
***
I think the punch has crack in it.
I used one for a while Kristin and it made a big difference. I don't wear it any more (no clue where it is), but I don't grind my teeth any more.
I need 200 more words for my essay and I have already covered the assigned material. I hate fluffing essays.
I think which teeth it covers depends on which teeth you grind, Kristin, but they really aren't uncomfortable, especially after the first couple of days.
Ah, that makes sense. I have an overbite, so I probably grind them all. I know she was worried about my back molars, but I think I also have sore bottom front teeth, too. I believe you and am going to cross my fingers that I get used to it quickly. Looks like my insurance covers 80%, so I should only be out about $60 for my copay. Not too bad, all things considered. It's just been an incredibly expensive month,so every expense is starting to make me cringe. But...no more achy teeth! This is a good possibility.
I think the punch has crack in it.
I told you it was an incredibly expensive month.
Well obviously. I thought you wanted to know about the alcohol?
Oh, wait, there's alcohol? I couldn't possibly...
Jen, I edited and made you look craxy. Sorry!
Jen, I edited and made you look craxy. Sorry!
Har! 'Sokay. Editing in favor of the funny is always the way to go.
Alas, the thing that the Breakfast with Santa *really* needed, IMO, was ND's punch for the parents. Mal's reaction to the horror that is Santa Claus: [link]
Might be knd of silly looking. Drew et al can deal.
picturing a parade of folks through the bedroom while Kristin is trying to sleep with a thing in her mouth.
Kill. Me. Now.
Cramps of fracking doom. And my heating pad committed suicide at some point. Man, and I thought I would be happy to be done with PMS this month. Now I miss the carefree mood swings and the frisson of painfully swollen breasts. Those were the good days, man.
I sure hope I have a narcotic hidden around here somewhere. Maybe something for the nausea. These are the days I wish House were my doctor. He'd be an ass, sure, but he'd hand over the Vicodin without a fight.