Sid's got notoriously bad teeth. Like, nightmarish redneck teeth. If he didn't go to the dentist with such alarming frequency, I'm convinced he'd be sporting one fucked up grill. As it stands, he's got a cracked tooth and requires a crown. Given the choice between ceramic and gold, he chose gold. Thus Siddy the Pimp was born.
He only has a temporary crown for now, no flashy gold to speak of, and yet every time he opens his mouth to speak, I find I have to fight the urge to make a "ding" sound, just like the sparkly sound effect used in cartoons. Just the mere prospect of entertainment is enough to keep me occupied.
In other, not so entertaining news, there has been much drama over our desktop monitor. I'm seriously not going to get into the whole story right now, because even just thinking about it makes my blood pressure go up. For now, I'll just say that it has been made clear to me that in matters of Computers and Other Tech Related Shit, my plebeian opinion matters not one whit. If memory serves, Sid's exact words to me yesterday were "It's my computer, I just let you use it." Which was probably one of the greatest variations on "stfu" that I have ever heard from him. Surprisingly enough, I still get along just fine with him, but as soon as he starts talking about the computer, I find myself at the end of my patience. The other day, Cory was over when Sid started going on about it again, and I had to walk away. Literally. I went outside and wandered around in the yard until I felt like I could keep a lid on my temper.
So pretty much, things are back to normal at Manson Homestead.
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