Emergency, emergency!

Yes, it looks like I've placed a golfball in my cheek. Don't worry. It also feels like I did. Goodbye wisdom teeth, all four of you, though you won't be missed. A slew of things happened in the last 24 hours. Namely, I passed out from dehydration/liquid diet/vicodin/losing so much blood.

I scared a whole bunch of people, namely my parents who probably thought I was dead. So when I regained conciousness, my family had crowded around me while paramedics were marching through the back door. Of course, the first thing I did was give a small beauty queen wave and timidly said, "Oh hey guys, how's it going?" I really need an on-site monologue writer to pass me better quips.

This bed ridden business is not cool. I wish I were with Di and Phuong at Cole's instead. Or doing arts and crafts at Phuong's place. In light of everything, I just need to keep in mind these following words: "Every time I get injured I measure it's severity by asking myself 'Would this stop me from going to Disneyland?'" - Chris Colfer

And to be honest, no. Despite all the bleeding and fainting, I would be first in line with a wheelchair smuggled from the hospital.