Have we talked about my teeth?

Not these teeth.

 So, have we talked about my teeth? No? Gather 'round, children, it's a long and sorry tale. 

I'm sorry to report that my teeth were made of chalk. I say "were" because at this point most of them are gone. I know that in this age of modern dentistry, with its fancy newfangled innovations like, I dunno, fluoride, and novocain and dental floss, and water picks, that one could reasonably be expected to retain one's teeth. 

One would be wrong. Listen, I've had a lifelong battle with my fangs, brushing, flossing, capping, drilling, root-canaling, straightening, and everything else I can think of to try and save them. I would estimate that over the course of my lifetime, I've sunk about A BILLION DOLLARS into my teeth (I could be off by a few cents, but srsly, it's a lot). 

Not these teeth either, but you get the idea.

 Chalk it up to growing up on un-fluoridated well water as a kid, or slovenly personal hygiene, or a lifetime of treating my body like a temple (to Chthulu, lulz) but these teeth have just never shown up for me, y'know? 

Anyway, about a year ago, I finally threw in the towel and had the whole bottom rack replaced. They're the kind that get bolted into your head, so it's not like I can just take them out. 

 

And for the most part, it's gone well enough. I like they way they look, and I can eat again. What's not to love? 

 They inserted five posts into my lower jaw to anchor the appliance, and four of them set fine. For whatever reason, though, the fifth and final post just won't set. This makes it likely to break if you eat anything more solid than, say, soup. 

Kinda like...

Hilarity has ensued. 

The 2nd temporary broke last night while I was gnawing on a piece of steak (am I supposed to live on soup!?) and I've already put in the panicky call to my dentist. 

I can't currently eat at all, but fortunately it remains in place when I talk -- so at least I still look like movie star while I starve to death.