my orthodonist decided to file it down to make it behave. he promptly revealed a device roughly the shape of a table saw, in the size of a quarter. i gave him my "dont you touch me. you'll have to bribe me to unlock my jaws" look (its my Worst Look- trust me. worse than the look i gave ms hammack today in spanish when she called me 'becky.'), and he cringed away, naturally. i warily separated my teeth in pity for him for suffering the wrath of my Worst Look.
he filed between each of my lower teeth in hopes of giving the renegade tooth space in which to straighten out. he kept that damn blade/saw inbetween my teeth for so long, i was positive i was going to have an entire row of fangs for a lower set of teeth. this thought was so absurd, i burst into one my psychotic giggling fits. the kind where you know you should shut up for the safety of not getting your lips sawed off by accident, but you just cant. it just doesnt work. he had to shut off his fang-shaping-device to let me cry, doubled over on the stupid (s-t-u-p-i-d-dumb) orthodontic chair, from laughing so hard for several minutes.
i sadly do not have a row of fangs. i really could have had some decent fun with fangs.
whoo boy. wow.
it really wasnt even that funny.
Goddammit, I've never been "The Pretty Friend."
Ugly Friends never get the attention that their Pretty Friends get. No boys ever want to know where the Ugly Friends are (at the Ugly Friend's clubhouse, of course, where we watch endless episodes of the Golden Girls, eat troughs of cheesecake, and try on girdles), but the boys will always ask the Ugly Friends, "Hey, where's your Pretty Friend ______?" to which I always want to answer, "In the hospital having some additional plastic surgery. Don't tell me you thought that perky nose was real?"
In fact, it's always the Ugly Friends that end up playing interference for the Pretty Friends when a slimy man-creature takes a fancy to them.
I remember one night at a bar when I was with Nikki, my Pretty Friend. A man-beast kept chasing her around the bar, grappling at her butt. Grab, grab, grab, feel, feel, feel. This could go on for hours. I knew what I had to do. I had to protect my friend, and I had to do it in a way the man-beast would understand. I had to pretend to be Nikki's significant other, and, being the uglier of the two, I had to be the dominant one, the Husband-Lesbian. (Ugly Friends never get to be the Wife-Lesbian. They always have to be the mister.)
My friend Krysti was once hanging out with her Pretty Friend Kim, when she decided to impress a man she liked. She was smoking, of course, (because you cant be my friend if you dont smoke) and chose to flick the butt of her cigarette in a very cool fashion to let the man know that she was a sexy, right-on chick.
Krysti is normally very good at this, and can flick her butt to unnatural and awe-inspiring distances, much farther than either one of us can spit. I've seen her do it. In this instance, however, the butt propelled through the air in a slight, delicate arc, and hit the man of desire square in the crotch. It lodged itself between two inconspicuous folds of material., and miraculously remained lit.
Sensing imminent danger, Krysti immediately swatted the man's genital region to save his member from the burning ash, though he only understood this maneuver to be a spontaneous, sexually expressive act. Krysti was left to explain to the ex-potential suitor that she had lunged for his penis only because it was easier than knocking him down and rolling him in the dirt once he burst into flames.
As Krysti told me this story, I understood why I would never be the Pretty Friend. It was evident in my laugh, as soon as the pig snort escaped when I tried to take a breath. It was a Hee Haw, barnyard-donkey snort, one that sucked in all the mucous from my nasal cavity and shoved it in a river down my throat, causing me to cough so hard that I puked right then and there in the bathroom sink.
What a waste, I thought, of all that perfectly good vomit. It just might have been worthwhile had there been a man around.
-The Idiot Girl's Action-Adventure Club
Half of that book I wish I could post in here. It's hys-fuckin-terical. Wow.
it's not been a tuesday. it's been quite a funny day, actually. however, this makes me wary of exactly when tuesday is going to decide to show itself.