You. . .ME. You. . .ME! Do you see the difference?

Eleven years ago I stumbled across the lawn in the early morning hours, barely able to hold on to my three month old baby girl.  My mom quickly rescued her from my precarious hold and led me to the car.  I was under the influence of Valium and being driven to the dentist to have all four wisdom teeth pulled. 
Even with the Valium and gas I could hear my teeth being yanked from my head in that awful resonating way that we hear when we're chewing on something crunchy.  The pressure was intense and it was an experience I'm sure many of you can relate with.  I was in pain for days and swollen and hardly remember taking care of my baby.  {Although I must have because she's hear today to torment me about my upcoming birthday.} 

But I digress.

I thought it was so much fun that I'm growing a FIFTH wisdom tooth.  In a very odd spot crazy close to my throat.  What. The. Heck. 

At first I thought I had scraped the area and blamed the pain on not chewing properly.  But then it broke through.  And it slices up my tongue when I talk.  And for those of you who know me, that's a lot of slicing. 

I think I'm some kind of mutant. 

What's next, an eleventh toe? 

Or this??? 

Eeewwwww.  Who puts nasty pictures like that on their blog.  I mean really. 

I just have the words of Brian Regan running through my head. 
"Do not ever tell a two wisdom teeth story or the four wisdom teeth people will parachute in and cut you off at the pass!"

 It's a classic you/me scenario.  You have more than four?  Bring it.