The pain-induced, drug-mediated pain I’ve been under for the last few days is finally starting to lift, and I’ll be resuming my usual blog posting.

In other news, I noticed that Koko, the ape who was taught sign language a few years ago, told her handlers she was in pain and pointed to her mouth. Her handlers called a dentist.

My recovery from wisdom tooth surgery will come just in time for the 24-hour-a-day Olympic coverage that Czech TV will be broadcasting. As you know, I’m a huge Olympic buff, and at some point this week will have to take a picture of my participant’s medal from the 1984 L.A. Olympics, which I got for being a referee in the trap and skeet shooting competitions.

Luckily, there doesn’t seem to be much going on in Czech politics this week – (It’s cucumber season! – eds) but I’ll give the papers another go-through before starting another round of painkillers.

Tramal, by the way, is kind of an interesting drug. Its effects seem to be somewhat like Rohypnol, in that when you take it, you feel like you’re the tiny driver of a giant meat puppet; aware of everything going on, even when asleep.

You’re able to control the meat puppet to walk to the fridge to get a drink, or stare for a while at the teevee. But you’re detached from goings-on at the same time. Lucky for me nothing else happened, or I’d be saying something like “oh look, that guy next to me is getting his hand devoured by piranhas.”

I would curse my dentist more, but don’t because she’s hott with two t’s. She’s the only dentist I’ve ever seen rocking the Dolce & Gabbana while on the job. And she had these really cool Jimmy Choo shoes. Kept me busy for the 3 1/2 hours she tried to pull my damn tooth. I try to say “MILF,” but it keeps coming out “milthhhh.”

And in case you’re wondering, Chaka Demus and Pliers has been far away from my playlist.

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