Your problem, because clearly if you're here reading you are sufficiently invested in my life that this would matter to you as much as if not more than it matters to me, is that I'm funnier late at night. Like that dude you hung out with ten years ago who made you weep tears of weed-fueled hilarity every night after ten p.m., but who in the morning seemed sort of pathetic and squinty and wait a minute, man, did you wake and bake? Really? You told us you were all out!
Except not stoned and with better period jokes.
Why is that a problem? Because here it is, a perfectly respectable 10:09 on a Thursday, and I'm thinking about ordering clothesline and building supports for my pole beans and maybe disassembling the pillow fort. Although, I don't know about that. It keeps the the ravioli from getting on the carpet when I'm eating and watching Wife Swap, and people think it's charming in an "oh-what-a-whimsical-fun-loving-mom" kind of a way, the way I leave the pillow fort up. But then they probably think the kids built it and get to play in it and stuff, too.
Anyway, late last night I was reading The Bloggess and weeping, as one does, because one is just not as funny and prolific and never will be and shit, she has a kid too, and where's my newspaper-backed blog? and then I got up to brush my teeth and the Funny Pistons were just firing like crazy, making amazing jokes in my head and I was writing a week's worth of incredible posts in my head and you guys were laughing and laughing and my BlogHer ads check was more than thirty bucks next month because I was so funny!
But I was too tired to post it. Also the Funny Pistons is a great band name. So is Fish Mitten. You can have those.
So here we are and I have some very real life things to deal with, things greater and grimmer than laundry, even. I will leave you with a quiz and with a story about my teeth.
The Quiz: What Would You Like to Learn From Me
Okay, so imagine I am teaching a class. (I imagine this all the time. It looks like a series of photo stills from a college brochure. I smile and bend slightly from the waist a lot.) What is that class?
a) Life Drawing with Naked People
b) Green on the Cheap: Build a Compost Pile for Ten Bucks and Other Awesome Green Things that Do Not Have to Come from the GAIAM Catalog
c) How to Be Funny in Writing, Some of the Time
d) Something Else
A Story about My Teeth
The surgeon removed my bite splint on Tuesday. It's hard to tell what's going on in the picture, but imagine that you took a five-inch roll of Play-Doh about half in inch in diameter, arranged it so it covered your top teeth from molar to molar, and bit into it. Oh and then attached it to your teeth and braces with a lot of steel wires. It wasn't uncomfortable, and it kept my palate from contracting back to its previous width, but it was impossible to keep clean. There was a little shelf behind my front teeth where stuff would get stuck (tiny wads of meat, bits of pasta) and almost nothing would dislodge them. Swishing water, poking tiny stick between teeth from the front, bending up pipe-cleaner-like brushes to gouge from behind -- sometimes I never could recover them. Plus there was also the stuff that was too small to be particulate, like a thin haze of protein shake. Top that with the inability to floss, and you're talking serious funk, my friends.
When the horrible plastic tray was finally removed, my teeth were coated in something like small-curd cottage cheese, only more tenacious. The surgeon was unfazed and had a toothbrush waiting for me. I still felt a little bit like throwing myself through the plate-glass window in an effort to escape the humiliation. And the smell.
Tomorrow I will tell you what it's like when your teeth touch for the first time in a decade. It's a moving and inspirational story, kind of like that movie about the blind guy who was finally able to see but got all confused because his brain didn't know how to interpret visual stimuli. You'll cry when you read it. I just know it.
(Also, I remember that I said I would talk about the new breastfeeding study. I'll get around to that. Sure I will, Timmy.)