What in god’s name did mankind do before the existence of toothpaste? I am not kidding when I say that if I had to live every day of my life with permanent morning breath, I would kill myself. Life wouldn’t be worth living without the minty aftertaste of Crest whitening toothpaste. Why is morning breath so wretched, anyway? What is it about sleeping for 8 hours that turns the inside of our mouths into a foul cess pool that smells like a garbage disposal? Am I eating garbage in my sleep? Is that what’s happening? At least it can be fixed. Back in the “olden days,” the remedy was to “eat fruit.”
Riiiight. Because eating apples and blueberries makes my breath smell like wintergreen. Not. Thank god for Colgate.
I am just TOO excited to begin my travels. I really am. In ten days I will be looking like royalty at the Year End Banquet in Chicago, sipping expensive wines and eating a dinner that costs more than some washing machines. Bad example? Probably. I’m going to win a sword and get praised for my knife-selling abilities as if I invented fire. It’s going to be great. Really I can’t wait for the food, mostly.
Then immediately after that, I will be getting third degree sunburns on the beaches of Cabo San Lucas. When I expose myself to the real sun for a good day or two, my skin darkens like a fine french roast. Not kidding, I will be unrecognizable when I return. I don’t understand how someone like me can tan so deeply, but become so ghastly white at the same time. Science.
Only two weeks following Mexico, I will be doing the tango with the natives of Costa Rica, basking in the South American sun, sipping beverages, and wading in the ocean. We’ll be staying at the Paradisus Resort in Costa Rica. Just a little taste:
I, too, am drooling.
Why can my hairdresser backcomb my hair so much better than I? When I backcomb my hair, I look like I just rolled out of bed. When “Rod” from “ROCA Salon” backcombs my mane, I look like Amy Winehouse, but refined.
And on less cocaine.
And minus the beehive. It’s just not my style.
Sigh. I wish I had those skills.
A 45 year old woman in Sturgis, South Dakota was recently arrested on a DUI charge, after being found passed out over the steering wheel of a stolen delivery van with a blood alcohol content of .708.
This woman was alive? Was she hooked up to dialysis? I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but at .4, you are more than likely dead. .708? Seriously? This woman has to have a liver of Chuck Norris to survive this level of intoxication. Did she drink a washing machine full of Bourbon? What bar even HAS that much alcohol in it? Someone needs to explain to me how a person with a BAC of .708 is even able to GET to a van, let alone steal and attempt to drive it. At .3, I am face-planted on the bar’s bathroom floor, mascara running down my face, missing at least 1 earring, and crying about “having a good time.” .708? Dear god. This woman needs a prize. That has to be a world record.
Well, time to brush my teeth for the 40th time today. You know, just taking advantage of the privilege.
“My face is a million hours.”
-Myself, BAC .26