Get Out of My Dreams

Get out of my dreams.  Get into my lobby.  Get out of my dreeeeeeaaaaammms….get into my lobby. 

Mickey Molar is making a very special appearence at my big girl office building downtown tomorrow for dental health day.  Mickey Molar?!?!?!  WOO HOO!  How am I going to sleep tonight?   I need to cancel happy hour with the ladies asap, because boy do I need to be fresh tomorrow.  I may never have an opportunity to meet or get the autograph of a 7-foot tall plushy tooth again.  I sure don’t want to be late, not this day.  You can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be up with the early bird tomorrow.

Oh gosh, what am going to say to him?  I hope I don’t embarrass myself if I can’t tell if Mickey Molar is a mandibular second molar or a mandibular third molar.  What am I going to wear?  Will it look like I am trying too hard if I wear my favorite Osh Kosh B’Gosh  suit?  Should I pull my hair up, half up, over to a side pony tail,  back in a chignon, make a french braid, use  ninety-seven butterfly glitter clips, or just leave it down?  Argh!  Only sixteen hours to decide!

Mickey Molar totally makes me weak in the knees.  This for sure makes up for taking away my 401(k).


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