WARNING: This blog-itany includes a ridiculous and offensive amount of whining and self-pity. If you find these qualities offensive or irritating, you may want to avoid reading any further. In fact, try anchor-reporter Jere Gish's e-column, found elsewhere here at KMBC.com. He's coming clean about his torrid relationship with Dr. Quinn-Medicine Woman.

You've been warned, so here goes.

Last Thursday, during FirstNews, as I was walking from the big-shot anchor desk to the weather-board area...which, in the new building, is about a three mile hike...I was talking and walking at the same time. You know, the old joke about not being able to walk and chew gum at the same time? Well, apparently, I can't walk and talk at the same time anymore. Obviously, if I added chewing gum I'd end up in traction. So, I'm babbling about rain or snow or sunshine or clouds or something...even I don't pay much attention to me...as I stepped over the camera cables, empty hair-spray cans and discarded champagne bottles, I bit the inside of my lip. In my head, I screamed "YOWZA!" (Actually, I said a few other things, in my head, but this is a family web-site. Oh, while I have your parenthetical attention, the next portion of this e-whinery is a little graphic.) All of a sudden, the weather portion of the newscast was becoming a major motion picture: There Will Be Blood! and there was. I could taste it. (Hey! I warned you about the graphic nature of this thing!) On the outside, I was talking about making sure you had windshield wiper fluid while, inside my mouth, it was an infomercial for the New Hannibal Lecter Slicer-Dicer. Being a trouper and needing the paycheck, I plunged forward.

As I mentioned, that was back on Thursday. Unfortunately, this story was not over. IT WAS JUST GETTING STARTED! You know what happened. I kept biting the same place...over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...and over. For the next several days, up to and including Monday morning! Why do we do that?!?! My wife says it is because the area gets a little swollen and we chomp on it. (Swollen is one of those words that looks wrong and weird when you write it out. Looks like some sort of fabric. "Oh, is that sweater, cashmere?" "No, no. It's made out of swollen. Pure swollen.") Or, maybe I'm just losing my ability to chew properly! Whatever the reason, it smarts. Frankly, I don't think I received the appropriate amount of sympathy from my family this past weekend. Every time I'd bite the wounded area, I'd wince or howl or jump. My wife and children expressed concern the first time. Smiled, the second. Chuckled, the third. Times four through 23, they just laughed uproariously.

Last year, our oldest son, Alex, had developed a canker sore. He suffered rather loudly. In fact, one of the other kids found a text message on my wife's phone from Alex saying "I got an A on the exam but my canky hurts!" Canky?!?! What?!?! His canky hurts?!?! If he had texted "My aphthous ulcers are acting up" it would've sounded much more dire. My caring, compassionate wife sent him a sympathetic response. The other kids thought it was hilarious. Well, where is that worry and concern now!?!? The inside of my mouth looks like shredded wheat. I'm chewing things like a mouse caught in a cupboard for fear that I'll re-lacerate my inner-lip.

The bottom-line is that I'm in pain. I'm used to being a pain but being in pain is a whole different thing. I have developed chompenchewaphobia. I may need to exist on soup and milkshakes for the next several weeks. You'll know if I bite that same spot yet again because I plan on removing all the teeth on that side of my mouth and replacing them with aloe-dipped foam rubber or see if Jere Gish can put me in touch with Dr. Quinn who can then refer me to Dr. P.L Iers, Frontier Dentist.