Vox Imports


Let me tell you a story of whiskey and mystics and men.
Ta da da.
And about the sick drunkards and pukers on central railway.
Ta da da.

So now you expect me to tell you a story about a whiskeyed sicko puking in a train. Or about Morisson or the Doors. Needless to say I have no such intention and shame on you for not having expected a purposely unexpected story following a Very Misleading Indeed Introduction.
Sorry for rambling. But you know that story about the Girl Who Saw Too Many Movies Today And Woke Up Late And Blogged. Or not. Ha!
Okay, now I'll get to the real and true point of today's post:-
My jaw.
I have a normal looking jaw. Small. Unpronunced. An unassuming incapable-of-accomadating-a-full-pani-puri type of jaw. It'd been a nice jaw to me as far as jaws go. And then *drumroll*………………………It. Started. Clicking.
Just like that. I ate a chip or a chocolate or something one day and heard my jaw click on the right side. Kept clicking for a month but I kept ignoring the clicking because. Well I don't know the exact reason but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that getting a jaw examined involves getting the jaw to a doctor which involves dragging a lazy ass all the way out into the Great Outdoors. (The Great Outdoors, mind you, might sound all cool and all, but its a pain to not have a bed and a fan at all times.)
And so I did NOT go to a doctor.
Which would have been fine except the Universe happened to have blessed me with a bright and sunny disposition. Screw you if you want to contest that and get the fuck off off my blog. Bright and sunny I claim to be and bright and sunny I am. So anyway, it so happens that I'm the Heidi types that laughs a lot. So once upon a bright and sunny day, I laughed. Instant sprain. Lightning lockjaw. Laughed about the sprained-ness of my jaw too, till I discovered that I couldn't open my mouth enough to eat an aloo cheese sandwich. Frightening fact when you consider that alu cheese sandwiches count for atleast 70% of my diet for atleast ten months of a year. Still no intake of breath from you, eh, dear Reader? Now consider above statistic in the context of Me. Me is a tiny bit underweight. Let us suppose that I weigh 38 kilos. (Not saying that I do but let us simply suppose for the purpose of hypothesising.) 70% of 38 kilos is approximately 27 kilos. So take away my sandwich eating ability and you might just end up with a Me that weighs 11 kilos. Which is nearly as much as my nephew would weigh. He happens to be 3 years old. I happen to be 20. Aaaaaaaaaaah!?
Nope. Still no jaw checking happening. Cos it was only yesterday that I tried eating a ferraro rocher. Slightly painful. And decidedly an emergency. I love ferraro rocher you see.
So now you know. I have jaw issues and I will consider getting it checked. In the meantime, however, I will eat an apple a day to keep the doctor away and maybe my jaw will heal itself. And if I find that I cannot manage to open my sprained jaw enough to manage above remedy, I will cut the apple into little pieces and eat em with a spoon so ha! Doesn't seem like I'm getting that jaw-check anytime soon afterall does it :D

PS: The situation is not so dire. I will survive. But I was bored and sitting in front of a comp and well..wassup with you?

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