Wisdom Teeth
I had my bottom two yanked shortly after arriving here in Wellington.

Having put up with a dull throb for about six months, I figured I might as well get it over and done with, so toddled off to the dentist for what must have been the first time in about six years. After the x-rays had been done, it was revealed to me that these wisdom teeth were 'big', and these wisdom teeth were 'deep'. It didn't sound good. I returned a week later, two shots of vodka under my belt to steady my nerves. God I hate dentists.

So they popped a couple of valium into me, which mingled nicely with the vodka, and, after a short chilling-out period on a bed in a waiting area, the pretty nurse guided me to ... the chair. There seemed to be a lot of industrial-strength hydraulic equipment at hand. And the rubber gloves and smocks donned by dentist and assistant didn't augur well (I got a bib the size of a table-cloth, which was also less than reassuring).

And then, well, out they came. In lots of little bits. My overwhelming memory was of the dentist saying, 'mmm, we'll have to cut this bit of bone out as well,' and of this colossal CRUNCH and bowel-shuddering vibration as they shattered the bit of my jawbone into which the larger of my two wisdom teeth had impacted. 'UCK!' I managed to gurgle through the blood.

A good mate was looking after me for the rest of the day, and he took me back to his place where we had a couple more vodkas, and then (I don't know how I managed this), scoffed down a few 'special' cookies (purely for the pain-killing aspect), whipped out the guitars, and launched into a three hour jam. Apparently (my memory grows hazy after the first 20 minutes or so) we were inspired, and actually wrote some songs that ended up being recorded on our next album (although I had to relearn them all the next time we played together, naturally -- "Jesus, I played that? I'm better than I thought!").

Pity about the bloodstains around his flat though. It looked like we'd sacrificed a cat.
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