I have facial droop!

Rest assured, folks. Parapup is not having a CVA or acute onset of Bell’s Palsy. This morning, I went to the dentist for not one, but two fillings. Let me tell you, my dentist does not screw around with low doses of anesthetic. She had like six shots in me before you could say “lidocaine.”

This was two hours ago. I have facial droop, can’t say my own name without sounding like I drank a bottle of MD2020, and can only flare one nostril.

I bring it up because I know some of you have been wondering, “Has Parapup been up to anything that makes her look like a crazy fool?” The answer is: abso-freaking-lutely.

You see, I have somewhere to be at noon, and I would prefer to be able speak using consonants like B, F, M, P, V, and W. My solution is to get the blood flowing. I’ve been running around my house in my underwear dancing and doing kickboxing moves. All I need now for a full on bout of embarrassment is for the UPS guy to show up to find me flushed and busting out my best white girl moves and kicking the air with a half functioning face and no pants. It’s times like these that make me able to relate to some of my psych calls.

How many jump kicks do you have to do to dilate your blood vessels in the face of injected epinephrine? I’ll let you know when I find out.

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