Unbagging the Cats 1

Unbagging the Cats 1

Friday, December 30, 2011

A Severe Tongue-Bashing

A malady has befallen me on this holiday week. Not a malady of epic proportions. But not an insignificant malady, either.

I have a bump on my tongue.

You know that bump. He's a rogue taste bud. He grows bigger than the complacent taste buds who loll about on their fleshy tongue carpet, enjoying, then imparting, a plethora of Christmastime flavors to the non-rent-charging landlord of their mouth. Big Bud acts like he can make an escape. Sometimes, he blusters until he's flushed and red. Sometimes, he works out his anger and pales in comparison to his taste bud buddies. That's the stage my malady is in right now.

It's right on the tip of my tongue, as the saying goes. Off to the left side just a bit. It catches on my left Bugs Bunny tooth if I check to see if it's gone. Big Bud is a bit painful. Not as bad as earlier in the week. But he still makes his presence known. I blame his appearance on holiday gorging. I first noticed him after nearly foundering on Chex Mix. It was not the Mix itself, but rather the constant searching for crumbs stuck in my teeth. Big Bud must have snagged himself on one of my snaggleteeth.

There's nothing I can do to hasten the departure of Big Bud. And he is blatantly obvious about his presence. When I lean over to look in the mirror, there he is. I can even see him from a good three feet away. And that transfers to six feet away counting the reflection. In all actuality, Big Bud is no bigger than a grain of rice. But he feels like a mini marshmallow perched on the end of my tongue. Honestly, he feels like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man has plopped down to sit a spell in my mouth. But I will not describe Big Bud as Mr. Stay-Puft, because...well...even my exaggeration knows some limits.

I am eager for this uninvited guest to take his leave. To blend back into the billowing mosh pit of regular tastebuds. He has worn out his non-existent welcome.


Carol said...

Big Bud is bad news. I think I snipped one off once. It hurt, but it was gone.
Not recommending you snip him off.

Sioux said...

Val--You continue to amaze me. Taking a rogue taste bud and embellishing it until it's blog-worthy is something to be proud of.

Linda O'Connell said...

Brine that baby, gargle salt water, or go to the ocean and chug.

Chickadee said...

OMG I hate those things. I end up playing with it getting it stuck between two teeth. I can't help it.

Where do those things come from anyway?

Val said...

Eek! The amputation thought crossed my mind, but I could not conceive of the proper surgical instrument. Toenail clippers were quickly rejected, as were my dull kitchen shears. After reading your advice, I'm wondering how a tourniquet is applied to the tongue.

Thank you for the compliment. I sometimes regard my little enterprise as The Blog About Nothing.

Sound advice, from a gal who practically has gills. Maybe I can stow away on your next trip to the beach, and soak my tongue in nature's saline solution.

There's a nightmare for the next time I nod off in the recliner. I don't know where they come from, but I know where they don't belong: between two teeth. That's almost as bad as Ben Stiller getting the beans above the frank in There's Something About Mary.

Stephen Hayes said...

I just found you through Best Blog of the Week and I'm glad I did. I love your writing and I'll be back for more (I hate those rogue taste buds but never knew what to call them. Thanks.) Visit me sometime at Chubby Chatterbox.com

Val said...

I checked out your blog abode, and felt right at home. I especially enjoyed the tale of your turducken feast. If you promise that you never serve it to guests, I will drop in again.

bettyl said...

Oh, dear, that's a pain in the tongue. Hope he goes away soon.

Val said...

I'm sure it's just a coincidence, but Big Bud went away the day after I wrote that. BUT...I felt the beginnings of a new one on the other side of my tongue. So I made myself NOT keep feeling it with my teeth and finger, and I drank a lot of water and soaked it, and, mercifully, it was gone the next day.