I Love What You’re Wearing

December 1, 2008 at 4:28 am (Uncategorized)

I got to my friend S’s apartment yesterday afternoon straight from lunch with another friend. S and her friend A were already sprawled across the couch in full Sunday-arvo-hungover-as-hell repose. I knew the feeling. After two consecutive nights on the tiles, I was in no shape for anything but claiming my own section of cord cushion. Make way, make way. But first, to the loo. As soon as I got into the bathroom and bared my teeth at my reflection, I could see I’d brought bits of lunch with me. They travelled up front, in the pointy end, a first-class ride in my two front teeth. Brilliant. I’d said goodbye to my friend T with marinated eggplant waving to her from every nook and cranny. Perfect. This is quite the party trick of mine – I love capturing food with my bare canines. Look, no hands! I walked out of the bathroom.

“S,” I said, “do you have any floss?”

You might remember an early post about flossing. In it I recalled an article I’d read in which a dentist referred to everything that gets stuck in the tiny space between teeth as “tooth poo.”Ew. Since that time, I have become quite an obsessive floss fiend. I floss multiple times a day. Some people worry about clean underwear in the event of an accident. Not me. I worry about where my next spool of floss is coming from. I imagine the scene of the accident going something like this. An emergency services person reels away from me in disgust. “Underwear again?” asks a colleague. “No, no,” says the ambo. “Sure, she’s not much for the frills, but hey, at least those cottontails are clean.” “So what then?” asks the colleague, moving in to get a better look. And the ambo points. “Tooth poo. Check this out. Her teeth have really got the shits.”

So when S obliged me with some floss, I finally relaxed into the afternoon. I repaired to the couch with my piece of floss, apologised for flossing in front of them, and proceeded to attack. Probably disturbed by this spectacle (and this is how off the air I was, because it didn’t even occur to me that it was a disgusting thing to subject them to, all I knew was that I could do it sitting down, whereas in the bathroom, I’d have to floss and stand at the same time, a two-act combo that seemed completely BEYOND ME), S’s fellow reveller A made like the hired help, making tea, serving S’s homemade (and incredible) macaroons, and generally waiting on us hand, foot, and mouth. 

The afternoon stretched on. Another friend arrived and the four of us lounged around catching up, eating macaroons (I actually lost count of how many I popped into my own newly spruced mouth), and generally behaving as though S’s perfect, pristine apartment was a spa suite retreat (which it basically is). Ah, lovely. But then I started thinking about having to make the trip home, and reluctantly got up to leave several hours later. I said my goodbyes, and started walking toward town. I’d been walking for about five minutes when the thought first crossed my mind. 

“Hey, what did I do with that piece of floss, anyway…?”

I patted myself down, starting to feel just a little apprehensive. 

“Hmm… did I throw it out when I went into the kitchen?”

I checked my pockets, starting to panic. 

“Did I flush it?”

I cast my mind back. I couldn’t remember. I had it one minute, and then after that I didn’t know what happened. Only one thing was certain: I didn’t have it anymore. 

“Shit,” I thought. “What if I’ve left the tooth poo-coated piece of floss on S’s perfect cord couch??? Oh my god.”

What did I do? Nothing. Are you kidding? Of course I did nothing. I hoped like hell I’d disposed of it,  that’s what I did. I couldn’t imagine the world in which I’d left it on the couch. What, draped over the arm of S’s spotless designer lounge? No. Surely not. Please god no. So I pushed all the horrifying tooth poo laden imagery from my mind and went home. 

I checked my mobile just before bed. There was this message from S:

A just sent me a text to say that your floss somehow found its way to her house! Too funny.

I replied:

That is hysterical because I was thinking shit…what did I actually do with that floss…?

I got into bed and started to laugh. I tried explaining it to Llew, then collapsed against the pillows in one of the best uncontrollable fits of laughter I have had in ages. I was caught between total embarrassment and intense amusement. My floss hitched a ride on the A-train. It went touring round the eastern suburbs of Sydney, determined to dangle its quarry one more time. How did it get on A? And how did A then manage to get it all the way home? I am still laughing out loud. We all are. We’ve exchanged emails about it and it seems we’ve all had at least one laughing fit apiece. I don’t think this one’s getting old for quite some time. Let that be a warning to you all. It ain’t over ’til the tooth poo’s in the trash.

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4 Comments

  1. kate said,

    Thank you so much!! You just made my day! The sisterhood of the wandering floss!!

  2. doctordi said,

    I was hoping you’d check in, Kate – I figured we could both use a laugh after all this Nana stuff today… Very happy to humiliate myself publicly in order to oblige.

  3. Pete said,

    Brilliant! And I’m a floss fiend as well. I like to smear the toothpaste onto the teeth and then floss the paste into the cracks. But I liked the combination of totally gross and very funny in this story. Ew and haha. Funny re the stats too. How do the lurkers pick up on this shit?

  4. doctordi said,

    Hey, that’s a great idea! I’m going to try that post haste (or is that post paste?!). Thanks for the tip!

    I know. I am starting to think my whole life is one long oscillation between disgust and hilarity. It could be worse… at least there’s rarely a dull moment.

    Yeah, it’s a mystery how the lurkers sense it… most of them, anyway. One found the site via an impressively puerile search for “poo shit” (if I’ve told them about these dunderheaded tautologies once, I’ve told them a thousand times…!).

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