I've been busy trying to be smart lately and haven't really ventured beyond library jokes in like two weeks.
Since not that much cool stuff has happened and I don't know how much Nicole Richie weighs or what the hot jams are or how to get your bod all set for your bikini without excessive cardio and quitting eating or Master Cleansing (not QUITTING Master Cleanse, that defeats the purpose, duh), then it seems that it's a good time for some true confessions regarding oral health.
Now before you go thinking about BLOW JOBS, let me give you a chance to think about blow jobs.
OoohEEE!
Nothing beats a good one.
Except maybe a good hand job...
I WROTE THE BOOK!
Wait no, but seriously you guys, I was never one to waste time with that nonsense (whatever happened to the gentlemen who say "I might as well do it myself"??) but the brothers tell me it might have something to do with the nostalgia factor of the HJ, which has the potential to bring one back to the bittersweet age of thirteen, and the time you thought you'd be lucky if you got up the shirt (but over the bra...) and then it turned out you didn't even have to help her with algebraaaaaa, all you had to do was relaaaaaxxx...and then run home at warped speed because you kind of fucked up her parents couch and those cushions were NOT the kind that flip.
It's the early teen mortification equivalent of that scene in Trainspotting where that guy shat the bed and tried to make a run for it with the sheets but it didn't work out and then there was shit ALL OVER THE WALLS and her mom and dad were there too and it was terrible.
But it started out so sassy...
Taking it back, we'll say that May 12th, 2007= most mortifying night of life.
And that I've come a long way, baby/maybe...
I've said it once but I'll say it again (until they all stop raving and just come over and watch 90210 with me and eat pizza, it's fun sometimes, I swear).
I currently know of but one honey who continues to judge me for my "episode", and for everyone else, the feeling quickly passed in 3 to 5 business days, no shipping and handling required...
And so, the handjob naturally assumes the position of "gateway drug".
Then algebra turns to calculus, and bittersweet takes on an entirely new meaning (depending which way you swing).
Before you know it, Iggy Pop is the soundtrack to your life with Underworld undertones.
The moral of the story is, if you smirk or get a stiffy every time you hear the word 'oral', you will probably have a much more enjoyable life than those prudes that sell soft drinks at school dances.
So suck it up, it's time for the secrets.
Sometimes, I get really caught up being busy trying to be smart.
At times like these, I forget about what is really important.
I don't mean a song in your heart or love in your family, I mean necessities.
I don't mean hairspray either.
But that's just because I got past those three weeks when February turned to March and it seemed like a good idea to straighten my hair all the time and then curl it with the big-barrel one and pffffffssss that shiz when I should have sooner realized that doesn't make sense and I should just feel like a natural woman/woman.
And also, that I should call Leslie-Anne and have her give me a snip because the last time was September and I said I didn't want to fuck up again. I told her that I needed help and I wanted it to be like how it was in high school, when cool things would happen like a girl 2 grades below me telling me I had the prettiest hair in school...
Talk like that and it doesn't even matter if she gave your boy a teen multiplex handjob when you got in a fight in the parking lot outside the caf, right??
RIGHT.
Forgive and forget.
But DON'T forget your toothbrush every single time you take it with you somewhere, and don't forget to buy toothpaste every time you need toothpaste.
But ONLY buy toothpaste at Dollarama, or whatever is one dollar at Pharmaprix Drug Mart, and DON'T buy it at 4 Frères at 3 am for 9 dollars when you KNOW that you can squeeze out enough to make you make-outable, not that it matters because your steady lives like 5.2 hours away anyways...
The point is, when your number one honey love citygurl Katie Hermon sleeps over on Tuesday, and you slept over at her sister Julia's on Monday, and you told Katie on Wednesday morning that in seeing that there were two bottles of toothpaste at Julia's and knowing you didn't have MUCH left and wondering when you could possibly find TIME (read: inclination) to buy your OWN toothpaste, you almost ALMOST stole one bottle but you DIDN'T and she tells you that's probably a good thing because her sister is VERY particular about her toothpaste...
Well when it gets to the point that you're confessing about being a borderline toothpaste thief, and only doing so because you've snipped open your toothpaste to get what VERY little is left so that your number one honey love city gurl who slept over unexpectedly has something to brush her perfect pearly whites with, well then it's maybe time to buy some toothpaste, even for 9 dollars at Quatre-Frères, so you don't have to make the decision I made last night...to NOT brush my teeth before I went to bed, so that I would be ABLE to brush them in the morning.
Turns out after 5 minutes in bed, I felt gross and jumped the gun but no biggie, I actually had enough to brush them in the morning too, so help me God.
This might sound like a nightmare, but it could have been much worse.
You see, I left my toothbrush somewhere a few weeks ago...
At the park? On the metro?? On that sad ground outside the now-defunct Taco Bull?? Maybe in Ottawa over Easter?? Ah yes, it must've been Ottawa.
To make a long story short (HA!), there was a time not so long ago when I brushed my teeth with a toothbrush some might have found disturbing.
The fact that it was purple is besides the point, but everything else I say here is relevant.
And I do mean EVERYTHING.
To me, to you, to teen multiplex handjobs and to the world at large (except for Vice magazine).
There are times when I think I am pretty innovative.
Times like when I have deoderant on my shirt but I was like REALLY EXCITED TO WEAR IT and I happen to have a new toothbrush and I haven't disposed of the old one...and so I take my old (purple) toothbrush and rub it on the white stuff and give it a little blow and no one's the wiser.
My old toothbrush becomes my deoderant mark remover brush and life goes on.
Or DOES it...
Life goes on, until I leave my steady toothbrush in Ottawa over Easter and I get back at some ungodly hour, having not even passed BY 4 Frères (where toothbrushes are surely at LEAST 10 dollars...) and not about to venture out after having walked from the bus instead of taking a cab because I'm FRUGAL...and I am left with NOTHING but a funny morning-like feeling in my mouth(having napped on the bus) and a pretty purple deoderant mark remover brush remarkably close to my toothpaste (of which I've got plenty at this point).
The true confession of the month is not that I finally got the nerve to talk to the captain of the SENIOR SWIM TEAM (something about SPEEDOS) and then I farted and forgot what I was going to say and ran away giggling and then my number one honey love city gurl Katie told me Aunt Flow was all over my white pants to boot and THAT is NOT the true confession of the month because that never happened, so help me God.
The truth is, I brushed my teeth with my deoderant mark remover brush no less than 4 times before I got me a real new (orange) toothbrush.
AND I DIDN'T TELL ANYONE UNTIL NOW.
If it makes you (read: me) feel any better, I'm not one of those people who puts on deoderant instead of showering, nor am I one of those people who Febreezes last night's smoky house party shirt thinking that it's okay because I ONLY WORE IT FOR A FEW HOURS.
SO WHAT?!?!
So my shirts are always clean and so are my armpits. So one can assume that my oral health, even at its worst, was nothing short of mediocre.
In other news, my sister Hilary says I have very dirty mouth...
And so, I leave you with the age old adage of the age...
YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT.
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