I know you’re all sick of my dental tribulations by now, so I’ll keep it brief. One of the teeth involved in my new bridge (not related to the implants) decided to go virulently postal, requiring an immediate root canal. I wound up stuck out in Westwood waiting on an available endo guy, so I placated my pain with new books over at The Mystery Bookstore. As usual, they took great care of me and here’s what I wound up with:

Leather Maiden by Joe R Lansdale
Mary’s Prayer by Martin Waites
and a nice copy of Murder Doll by Milton K. Ozaki (see icon!)

Tonight, strawberry ice cream for dinner. Then later, a foot party.

I’m back in LA. Seattle was a blast. Pix to come.

Meanwhile, I have real teeth! Well… real fake teeth anyway. The final implants are in and look great. Plus, I don’t ever have to worry about my skeletonized remains going unidentified. There’s no mistaking those three screws in my skull.

So now I’m fighting to surf the endless disruptions and try to get back up to speed on the new book. No rest for the wicked.

It’s been a stressful fortnight of multiple deadline madness. All have been met, but the big one, the next book for June, still looms large. I’m trying to stay frosty, with mixed results.

In dental news, I had one of my strangest experiences in the ongoing implant process yesterday. I had the usual x-rays and impressions, including one where he removed the temp caps and their screws and stuck what can only be described as industrial Dracula fangs in the empty holes. These were shaped like squared off bullets, green metal with protruding threaded screws so long I couldn’t shut my mouth. But that’s not the strange part.

The really strange part was this weird metal torture device that looked like something dreamed up by a sadistic Phrenologist. It had a metal bite plate smeared with blue goo that went in my mouth, plugs that went in my ears and various adjustable metal struts around my face that the dentist tightened with a screwdriver. Apparently it was measuring my jaws and the angles of my bite. After less than a minute of wearing this apparatus, I felt like someone was driving nails into the hinges of my jaw. I’m still achy today from that and from all that screwing (get your mind out of the gutter, I mean the implant screws) but the good news is, the next step is the last, the placement of the real permanent teeth. I love my dentist, but I’m really ready to be done with all this.

And, in other teeth-related news, it looks like the Kogi BBQ team is finally going brick-and-mortar. This doesn’t mean the end of the beloved Kogi trucks (there are two now, with rumors of a third in the works) just an addition to the Mangueras’ mobile empire of Korean/Mexican fusion street-chow.

There’s been a lot of sour grumbling about the “hype” surrounding Kogi BBQ, the long lines, their use of Twitter to announce their locations, and the inevitable hipster-factor. The way I see it, the word hype, defined as “exaggerated or extravagant claims made especially in advertising or promotional material” implies all jerk and no squirt. The truth is, buzz notwithstanding, Kogi’s food is flat out fantastic. Great flavors, high quality ingredients and fearless creativity. And, hey, any chow that gets Angelinos to wait on line IN THE RAIN can’t be discounted as nothing but hollow hype.

¡Viva Bulgogi Taco-A-Go-Go!

Also, speaking of internet hype, I wanted to remind all you Faustketeers to follow me, faustfatale, on Twitter. I find it pretty damn hilarious that, after all my curmudgeonly grumbling about “microblogging” I’ve recently been posting more over there than here, because it’s short and sweet. On deadline, short is definitely sweeter.

So the visit to the dentist was uneventful, which is a good thing. Fortunately, I didn’t bend the implant screw when I broke the temporary cap. Everything else has healed up nicely and we’re ready to move on with the final caps.

The only (ongoing) problem is my damn bruxism. (aka tooth grinding) The dentist says it wasn’t the pork belly that broke my cap, it was already weakened and cracked by the grinding. After years and years of nocturnal gnashing, I know I’m never gonna be able to make it stop completely, but I’m hoping to find a way minimize the damage to my shiny new teeth. I was planning to wait until the new teeth were in to start using a splint, but I honestly don’t think I can afford to wait. To that end, I’m starting cheap with the drugstore “boil and bite” variety of night splint. The more expensive custom variety is just too pricey for me right now and besides, my teeth are changing shape constantly as the various steps are completed. I just hope it’s not too uncomfortable. I’m afraid it’s going to be a long night.

In other oral news, I seem to have picked up a sore throat. I’d like to think it makes me sound like Lauren Bacall, but I’m afraid I sound more like Wolfman Jack.

I’ve been dying to try the Kogi BBQ truck for ages now, and only finally caught up with them tonight in Little Tokyo.

Lili, Wes and I (and Lili’s Boston Boogie, of course) arrived at 1st and San Pedro at six on the dot to find a restless, milling crowd but no truck. Lots of speculation was taking place as to where the truck would drop anchor. When it finally appeared, driving south on 1st street, the youngest kids (the crowd was mostly teens and twentysomethings) immediately went tearing after the moving truck like dogs, chasing down the block until they could no longer keep up. When the truck disappeared around the corner, more fervent speculation occurred. Were they turning around? Circling the block? Where would they park? That’s when we ran into luchaninjakeith, who had his own ideas about the truck’s ultimate parking spot. Eventually the truck reappeared, driving in the opposite direction and then slowed, pulling in to a slot about halfway down 1st street, near Suehiro.

What happened next was like a scene out of a fast zombie movie. People started running like mad. Before the truck had come to full stop, it was mobbed. We followed along and wound up about twenty deep behind the line. Mark Manguera, the smiling, genial ringleader of the Kogi BBQ show, appeared from the window and told us they would need a few minutes to get set up. During those few minutes, the line quadrupled in length.

It took over 40 minutes for us to get our food, but to say it was worth the wait would be a criminal understatement. I ordered a plate of four tacos, one of each type including beef short rib, spicy pork, chicken and tofu. I also had the special, pork belly with spicy kimchi salad. Everything was superb. The surprise standout favorite of the night was the chicken, although I couldn’t exactly put my finger on why. The tofu was a dark horse second, savory and full of sharp, tangy flavor. But the truth was, there wasn’t a bad dish in bunch. Lili thought the pork belly was a bit too crisp for her taste, but I really enjoyed it.

The only downside of the evening was losing the rest of my cracked temporary implant in a chunk of pork belly. I had cracked it the day before and it was only a matter of time before the rest of the fake tooth broke off. Of course the dentist is on vacation until Monday.

Photographic evidence of bulgogi taco madness here.

edited to add: Here's Wes and Lili's photos. I particularly like the one of me with a full mouth and an empty paper plate.

The mad panic of trip prep has officially begun. I’ll be leaving for NYC on October 7th. From there I’m taking a train to Baltimore for B-Con and then after that it’s back to NYC and off to Germany to promote the German edition of MONEY SHOT, called HARDCORE ANGEL. Don’t worry, before I leave I’ll post a complete schedule of both my B-Con panels and the German events. It’s on The List.

The List is the only way that I can possibly accomplish everything I need to do before I leave. The damn thing seems to be getting longer rather than shorter because for every item I cross off, two more things get added. I have pets to make arrangements for and chores to catch up on. I’ve got panel prep and packing and girl-tech. Not to mention the two books I’m trying to simultaneously write, one of which is due the first of December. Oh and the four additional day-job projects that need to be finished before I leave. Sleep is for pussies.

But, in the good news department, I now have TEETH!!! Well, temporary teeth, anyway. Because my real porcelain implants won’t be ready in time for my trip, my amazing dentist agreed to provide me with temporary but non-removable teeth that attach directly to the implant screws. They are not as pretty as the finals will be and I still can’t bite into an apple, but they’re a billion times better than the removable retainer-like deal. Best of all, I can now eat without having to remove my front teeth! I’ll actually be able to enjoy the tasting menu at Jean Georges NYC without sporting the Daisy Mae Methteeth look. The only downside to all this was the fact that screwing the temps into the still traumatized and not-really-healed-yet tissue and bone was by far the most painful procedure yet. I should have waited another two weeks minimum, but it’s my own damn fault. I really wanted real teeth for my trip.

In other good news, I scored some hot new threads for the tour from Tarantula Clothing. They ended up being sold out of several items I had originally wanted, but the second-choice stuff I wound up with is still to die for. I’m particularly in love with the high-waisted Sex Kitten Capris. Their customer service rocks and their clothing rules. Mistress Christa says check em out!

More oral surgery today. Thankfully this is the last round in the seemingly endless battle to get these damn implants into my head. It was unsurprisingly awful. Lots of the usual slicing, detaching and retracting of the gums along with the special added bonus of extra bone scraping. I guess I’m so damn healthy, my body grew tons of new bone not only around the metal studs but actually over them. All that extra bone had to be scraped away from the metal by hand because my teeth are too small and close together for the power tools. Even after all that, the worst part was the fifteen rounds of Novocain. I wish someone would invent a local anesthesia that my body doesn’t burn up in under ten minutes. My other problem with Novocain is it makes me horribly jittery. Not fun with you’re cooped up in a dentist chair with your gums retracted and somebody scraping excess bone off the metal studs in your jaw.

As a reward for all my suffering I went to Scoops. For non Angelenos, Scoops is a local ice cream joint run by a mad scientist. New flavors every day, often unconventional, always amazing. I was tempted by the Pistachio Rosewater, but wound up with the legendary Brown Bread instead. I could have lived without the blood sauce, but it was still delicious.

I noticed something interesting while doing the Omnivore’s Hundred in my last post. When it comes to fermented food, I seem to have a weirdly Asian bias. I’m only willing to eat the mildest forms of cheese, but unlike most of my fellow Americans, I’ll happily chow down on miso, prahok and kimchi all day long. Natto, on the other hand, I wouldn’t eat at gunpoint. Go figure.

Sadly, I’m going to have to give the classic double bill of The Fly and Return of the Fly (scroll down) at the Egyptian tonight a miss because I’ll be pissing off on Saturday to see the The Fly, the opera. Deadlines loom and I’m way behind.

In other news, my cat has herpes. (This revelation has me in an amazingly foul mood, but I can’t stop laughing at the previous sentence. It’s either laugh or go on a kill crazy rampage.) Who even knew cats could get herpes? My Persian Reggie was rescued from a horrific, filthy hoarding situation, and clearly his unsavory past has caught up with him. Apparently cats get herpes infections primarily in their eyes, sort of like a cold sore on the cornea. Poor Reggie’s been walking around half-squinting like the proverbial one eyed cat peeping in a seafood store. He had to have the surface of his eye “debrided,” meaning scrubbed with a tiny brillo pad, to remove all the ragged edges around the ulcerated area. 500 dollars later…

I’m going in for the next round of my ongoing dental torture next week, but at least I don’t have to have my eye debrided.

Tomorrow I’ll be “revealed” (!) by Shannon Clute and Rich Edwards over at Behind the Black Mask. Actually, I’m just recording the podcast tomorrow and don’t know exactly when I’ll be publicly “revealed.” I’ll let you all know as soon as it’s up.

Incidentally, everything went fine at the dentist. The discomfort is unfortunately normal and to be expected but the area looks like it's healing well. Stitches are out and now it’s just a matter of waiting for the next round.

I seem to be having quite a bit more “discomfort” after this latest round of dental fun. I’ve got a check up tomorrow and hope to confirm that the amount of discomfort I’m currently experiencing is normal after having a pair of enormous Frankenstein bolts screwed into my jawbone and not indicative of some horrible unforeseen problem or infection.

I had dinner the other night with a lawyer who gave me a ton of useful advice for my current project. (More on that later.) He also happens to suffer from the same sort of severe bruxism (a fancypants way to refer to nocturnal teeth-gnashing) that is proving to be the main source of my ongoing dental angst. I suppose it’s just one of those unavoidable side effects of my charming, type A personality. Like me, Mark the Lawyer got one of those expensive custom made night guards from the dentist and, like me, found it utterly uncomfortable and unwearable. So he went out and bought one of those twenty dollar kits at the Rite Aid, the kind you dunk in boiling water to soften up for a custom fit. He swears by them and has been using them ever since. As soon as I’m able, I’ll be investigating this option myself but meanwhile, any of you fellow gnashers and grinders out there have any thoughts on the subject? Anyone else tried, for example, this? Any other suggestions or recommendations? After the boatload of cash I’m sinking into my pretty new choppers, I’d rather not grind them down to nubs in under a year if I can help it.

Ideally I’d like to get one that says “RAMPAGE” on the front.

I decided to celebrate Cinco de Mayo by having the next step in my marathon of oral surgery. I just love that happy little care sheet explaining that it’s perfectly normal to experience “some discomfort” after this procedure. I’ll say. After first having the entire front section of my upper gums (from canine to canine) cut away from the bone and hauled up like a curtain to reveal a tiny play starring the roots of my teeth, enduring two hours of drilling, scraping, x-rays, more drilling with consecutively larger and larger bits, the insertion of the enormous “roots” of the implants into the pair of gaping manholes in my jawbone and finally the closing of the bloody curtain with sutures, I think “some discomfort” is the fucking understatement of the century.

This was step 2. Step 3 will be adding another segment of the implants, the part that will screw into the fake teeth. Step 4 will be the pretty new teeth.

I’m gonna go have another popsicle…

Teeth!



The crack-ho smile is history. Unfortunately I’m not really able to eat with the fake choppers in so I’ll be all about take-out for the next six to nine months.

I’ve had my hands pretty full recently so I treated myself to a little time off this weekend. Highlights included dames at Dark Del, Blade Runner on the big screen and a naughty gothic lawn-mowing demonstration with hot, chubby roller derby girls at Edith and Chef Damon’s housewarming party. Lowlights included the painfully mediocre UFC 78 (although I’ll admit I was pretty impressed by Jersey boy Frankie Edgar) and having my cheap-ass landlord’s cousin show up at too-fucking-early-thirty to “fix” my crotchety old gas heater. Needless to say, it’s gonna be sweater-weather in my house this winter. Good thing I live in LA and not Minneapolis.

My real present to myself this weekend was The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps. Now when they say “Big Book,” they ain’t lying. It’s going to be a logistical challenge to find a comfortable position to read this phonebook-sized thousand-plus page tome, but will definitely be worth the effort. Clearly I need a big beefy slave to hold it up for me while I lounge on my divan. Extra points if he can do it without using his hands.

My Halloween costume this year:



If that’s not scary, I don’t know what is. The white patch in the gap on the left is the remaining tissue graft. Apparently this “harvested” tissue from the back of my mouth is not meant to be permanantly attatched. It’s more like an organic bandaid. The one on the right has already healed over and fallen off. The human bone grits (my dentist said the texture is so similar that his students actually practice this procedure using real grits) just needed to be sealed up in the sockets until the holes are healed over. I plan to start randomly biting people and claiming the bone for the grits was taken from an executed murderer. Anyway, I had stitches yanked today and am apparently healing very fast. I’ll be able to start wearing my fake choppers in about a week. I’ll be getting more work on the front and the actual implant in the back in six months and then they should be able to screw in the implants in the front about this time next year.

There won’t be much in the way of Halloween celebration tonight. I will definitely carve my Jack O Lantern (with missing front teeth, of course) and while I’ll have to skip the candy this year, I do have some pumpkin ice cream and will make my favorite Mexican hot chocolate. Mostly I plan to enjoy girl-watching on the holiday better known as Dress Like a Slut Night, since I myself have not been feeling very slutty lately. So Happy Slut Night to all you sluts out there. Be extra slutty tonight on my behalf.

In other news, I'm back in LA and my dad is arriving tonight. He is all set to become an official Angelino. I will be spending the next week or two helping him find a place and get settled and then, back to the grind.

So, I’ve finally risen from my bed of pain. It’s been too damn long since my last post. For starters, thanks to all the big booty ladies who offered to nurse me. Sadly, I have simply not been fit for polite (or otherwise) company. I do hope you’ll all come out and represent at my big book release bash at the Mystery Bookstore in Westwood on February 3rd. I also hope that by then I will no longer be lithsping like someone’s teenaged babysitter with brand new braces.

I do want to say that “tissue harvesting” really sucks. It’s especially nasty because even though you’re numb, you can still feel the little hook-shaped scalpel sawing and peeling loose this wet flag of meat off the roof of your mouth. Of course the part where they snip the flag into patches and sew the patches over the big gaping holes full of grits made from dead people’s bones is no fucking picnic either. Never mind the fact that my system burns through Novocain in record time. In a word, ouch.

But enough torture porn. On to things that really matter.

My sort-of book tour for MONEY SHOT is really starting to shape up. There’ll be events in New York, LA, Seattle, Portland, Houston and hopefully New Orleans. I’ll also be doing some signings in late November for the forthcoming anthology HELL OF A WOMAN, edited by Megan Abbott. I’ll post all the dates as soon as I can,

And speaking of Megan Abbott and big booty ladies, looks like the bootylicious Jessica Biel will be starring in a screen adaptation of Megan’s DIE A LITTLE. It also looks like they’ll be rewriting the story in a modern setting. I find that kind of hard to picture, but hey, I’m still intrigued.

The bed of pain is calling….

I hit my deadline, but there hasn’t been much time to relax since Tuesday. Here’s a quick overview.

First of all, I had to cancel my book trailer shoot over the weekend because the owner of the location was stuck behind the flaming truck pile up on the 5 freeway. I’m in the process of rescheduling but it looks like it won’t be until the second week of November at the earliest.

I did an interview for Publishers Weekly yesterday. I felt pretty good about the written half but always feel a little less confident of phone interviews. I’m always sure that I’m babbling incoherently, but the gal conducting the interview was pretty friendly and informal so I’m probably just being too hard on myself as usual. I don’t know when they'll run it, but when I find out, you guys will be the first to know.

I’m getting implants on Monday. Three of them! No, not breast implants, tooth implants. From what I understand, I won’t be getting the new teeth right away, because they need to do some bone grafting (!) that needs time to heal first. Regardless, I loathe going to the dentist for any reason and this will be all kinds of no fun. I will be stocking up on ice cream, soup, and vintage monster movies. Any hot, chubby girls out there want to squeeze into a latex nurse costume and come over to take care of me? Required duties will mostly consist of bending over to pick things up.

Then, the following week I will be flying back home to NYC to help my dad get squared away to move out to LA. The house is sold and ready to close and all that’s left is clearing out the last of the junk, packing him up and dealing with his two scaredy cats who need to be caught (they are way too shy to pick up, let alone put voluntarily into crates) vetted and shipped to my vet out here for boarding while my dad scores a new pad.

Also, at some point during all this madness, I’m hoping to score another work-for-hire gig and oh yeah, maybe actually find time to work on something real. Imagine that.