More Facial Surgery and a Side of Chilean Sauseege

I care a lot about my looks...I don't think I've left my home without makeup in the past 15 years. The way I see it, I'm doing you the favour...Jesus Christ, I'm not the one looking at my face all day, you are, so you're fucking welcome. About two years ago, I realized that I had been punishing the general population for decades with my lacking upper lip. Such a pretty face, but no upper lip, there was only one clear solution: pay someone hundreds of dollars to stick needles in my face and make me look like Angelina Jolie. Done. For the past two years I've gotten my lips done repeatedly, and despite the less than impressed reaction from my friends who fell in love with me as the Lipless Wonder, most people appreciate the improvement.

Last weekend I went to get a minor touch-up, nothing serious, just a couple pricks here and there and I was on my way. However, this time, something strange happened. About an hour after I left my doctor's office, my entire bottom lip had turned blue and was cold. Huh. Now I've read a lot of books by doctors...well, one doctor, Dr. Suess, and if I've learned anything, it's that you shouldn't let stray cats in the house, and also, if any part of your body is cold and blue, it has likely lost circulation. Now, you'd think that this would alarm me, particularly because I have done the procedure about 10 times before and never ended up with a cold blue sausage for a lip, but it didn't scare me in the least, so I smacked myself in the face a few times trying to increase circulation to the area, and continued on with my day, where I had planned to go out of town to meet some friends.

I don't want to bore you with the details, let's fast forward to approximately 9pm that evening, where I am being discharged from the emergency department in my friend's hometown. I know you're worried, don't be, I'm fine, my ridiculous antics will carry on for many years to come. So there I am, my lip is now only partially blue, I have about 3 bruises on the lip area, and a massive bruise that encircles the bottom half of my mouth and reaches half way down my chin. In a nutshell, I look like a hooker that didn't pay her pimp. However, I felt the need to rejoice the fact that I was still alive, so I went along with my dinner plans with my friends.

My friends took me out to a Mexican place. I believe I was doing a shot of Cuervo's finest when I realized I still had my fucking hospital bracelet on. For fuck's sakes, how was I even served wearing that thing? Sheesh. Fucking bartenders, can't trust them to watch out for you in the least. Idiots. My friends had to work early so after dinner they dropped me off at my hotel. The only problem was, I wasn't quite done rejoicing yet. I had a drink at my hotel bar, (which I actually had no recollection of until I saw it on my bill at check-out), then I went to the only club I knew in the city. As I was waiting in line alone, three guys behind me started talking to me. Now this was something else. Not that I got hit on by three guys simultaneously, that happens on occasion, but the fact that three guys were hitting on a girl that looked like she'd just lost a fight in the Irish pub next door. They chatted me up for the next 20 minutes...they were soccer players in the MLS, one was from Peru, one from France, and my favourite was from Chile. They all had amazing accents so naturally, 20 minutes was all it took for me to go with them to a place that would actually let us in.

I spent the rest of the night with these guys all fighting over me, and every chance I got I made out with the Chilean. He was yummy. Around 2am I realized I STILL had my hospital bracelet on...oops, guess the aftermath of the tequila made me forget to take it off. Even though my international fan club didn't seem to mind, I thought it would be best to remove it before I ended up with my Chilean Sauseege, wearing nothing more than my hospital momento. I woke up the next morning wondering if they were insane and incredibly un-picky, or if I was fucking awesome. Naturally, I chose the latter. Still fucking got it.