Holla, Part 1

Less than a week before I left the country for a semester abroad in southern Africa, one of my front teeth began to hurt every time I drank hot coffee. This was a problem, because I like to drink coffee. I went to the dentist, who was immediately concerned and sent me to an endodontist that same day. When I got to the oral surgeon, he looked at my tooth, I told him where I was going and in how many days and he said, "You're going where? And you're leaving when?" And then he immediately tipped me back in the chair and informed me that he was going to perform a root canal right then and there. Cool.

So for three hours I listened to and kind of watched the True Hollywood Story special of Growing Pains, followed by pieces of True Hollywood Story: Katie Holmes. I learned about sibling rivalry on and off the set of GP and that Katie apparently said as a child that she was going to marry Tom Cruise.

On the way home, Dad was driving and Gwen Stefani's hit of the summer, Hollaback Girl, came on the radio. We listened to a few verses of "B-A-N-A-N-A-S" in silence when Dad chimed in. "Okay I have a question."

Me, numb with a mouth full of gauze, not contributing much to the conversation, waited for this question.

"So what's a Holla-fat girl?"

It was difficult to control the drool flow as, caught off guard, I laughed in the passenger seat.