Monday, November 15, 2010


My teeth are yellowed. Not so much that it's noticeable unless you look at them from inches in front of my face (and why would you do that unless you're a dentist? I'm a married man, lady), but they are. Like the pages of an old paperback.

And that's how I like them. Yellow. Off-white is a better description, or perhaps slightly pee stained. Regardless, my teeth aren't flawless. My mouth is used. 20% off discount, this Sunday only.

I don't want to upgrade my teeth. They work fine. They look fine. Unless I change my career path and start appearing on TV, I have no desire for my chompers to resemble bleached tombstones. Character.

I've never had a cavity. Braces in middle school corrected my crooked mouth but couldn't correct my crooked smile. Nothing has corrected my warped mind, and I've eaten human flesh (by accident), but I'll take that over worrying whether my teeth are straight, white, tight.

* and my breath stinks

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