Smile Pretty

I have discovered that, all to often, there is an positive correlation between the discomfort and embarrassment of an activity and its resultant beautifying properties.

Nothing, I think, proves this better than the tooth whitening strip. The Boy barely even attempts to hide his amusement as I walk around the house, *shlorking* up extraneous saliva and breathing through my mouth, pausing occasionally to spit into a sink.

Sadly, because of my disordered manner of swallowing, if I close my mouth I push the strips off my teeth. I don't know of a solution other than this one. These fuckers had better work, is all I'm sayin'.

Check Out the Pork and Beans

Sweet holy hell. Behold, my dream job.

People would looked at me funny for sniffing payphones, mashing Fig Newtons onto walls, and throwing pasta at crack houses to see if it would stick (yep--overnight), and along comes "Will It Blend?" to bring form and purpose to my childish visions.

Le sigh . . .

An Open Letter to Bommarito Nissan, et al.

To Whom It May Concern,

Perhaps the best measure of one's service is that determined by its comparison to others.

So, when I tell you that a trip to the Ferguson DMV on a Saturday in August was a painless joy in comparison to each and every interaction I have ever had with one of your staff, then I do hope you understand my full meeting.

Yours sincerely,
Future Toyota Customer