trendymatt's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Beeshing mah teet. Last night, partly out of curiosity but mostly due to boredom, I tried out one of those newfangled two-hour tooth bleaching kits. Who knew that bathing my mouth in corrosive, yet minty fresh chemicals could turn into an evening of entertainment? Well, kids, that's the kind of thing those of us without cable television do when the only thing to watch is The Fifth Wheel or reruns of Roseanne. The instructions on the package looked easy enough - simply place the gel-filled trays over your teeth for twenty minutes, take out the trays and rinse, leave them out for ten minutes, then repeat for a two-hour period. For any normal person, this would have been pretty simple to follow. I, however, have no real concept of time when it comes to things like this. The process that was supposed to be completed in two hours took me a little over three. First of all, the instructions warned that the bleaching solution might cause "slight sensitivity" during the application process. Slight sensitivity? In the first few minutes after I put the trays in my mouth, I really thought my teeth were being dissolved in sulfuric acid. Plus, some excess bleaching solution leaked out around the edges of the trays, causing a very attractive foaming effect. I really looked like Old Yeller. It's a good thing nobody with a shotgun was near me at the time. So, of course, in all of the pain and frothing at the mouth, I forgot to look at the clock to see what time it was when I started. I know that the infomercial for Winsor Pilates was just coming on when I first went into the bathroom, so I knew I had fucked up already when I was still sitting on the couch with the first set of trays in when the skinny assholes were giving their testimonials. I have every infomercial on TV memorized. It's a sad, sad fact, folks. And the process repeated over the course of the next few hours. I would put a tray in, forget about it, run to the bathroom to furiously rinse, take a break and get distracted for an extra ten minutes, yadda, yadda, yadda. And of course, I couldn't just let the voice mail pick up my phone calls while my mouth was full of bleach and plastic. One of my co-workers called to see if we were going to have a meeting today: Me: "Hello" Me: "NO!" Okay, so after that, I let voice mail and text messages do the talking. So, the results? Not bad at all, but I'm not entirely sure it was worth twenty bucks and an evening of stumbling around my apartment in a rabid rage every half hour. Eh, we all pay a price for attractiveness. 9:12 am - 01.14.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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