August 22, 2001
gahmorning

Our heroine slept in. She does that from time to time. It was a dark and cloudy day outside: a day for staying under the covers and contemplating navel lint, and this is exactly what our heroine did until 9:00. It isn't that our heroine is lazy, exactly, or that she's inclined towards sloth rather than work, though that too is the case. Our heroine is what we like to call an energy-conserver, part of the growing base of California's population that choose to be part of the solution, not part of the problem. At any rate, around 9 am-ish, hearing her roommate dutifully head out for work, she rolled over out of bed and fell on the floor.

Our heroine has a very strict early morning -- or, granted, late morning -- regimen by which she prepares herself for a working day. Coffee is an avenue of easy starts that is denied her; to our heroine's finicky palate, coffee tastes like the liquid leavings of a snot-nosed feral camel with a urinary tract infection. Many times our heroine has been enchanted with the delightful smell of coffee brewing, cozened by that insubstantial promise of smoky, richly-flavored heaven into taking a sip, only to find herself with a mouth full of rancid cockroach droppings stewed in sewage water. Still, everybody else seems to enjoy it, and overcome with envy at their evident delight in what could only be the final piece of evidence that the evolution of the human taste bud has hit a wall, our heroine has learned to compensate by developing a sure-fire technique for waking up in the morning.

Event one. Our heroine rolls out of bed and falls onto the floor. This has been part of her morning program since freshman year of college, when mornings started at the undignified hour of two in the afternoon. She has learned that the shock of landing, while coupled with a distressing tendency to cause the occasional concussion or bruising, serves as a salutary jolt to the system. Of late, she has noticed that this part of the routine is not as effective as it once was, and is beginning to wonder if the fact that she slept on the top bunk of a two bunk bed in college and is now sleeping on a ground-level twin is making a difference. This bears investigating.

Event two. Our heroine rolls into the bathroom and splashes water on her face, vigorously. The vigorously is important. In the event that all else fails, she can complete her daily ablutions by slipping on the water that has spilled onto the bathroom floor, fall down, and give herself another shock.

Event three. Our heroine climbs into the shower and attempts to adjust the water temperature while standing in the spray. This is occasion for multiple shocks of different and unexpected kinds. Being very efficient, our heroine uses this opportunity to warm up her vocal cords with assorted choice selections from her wide and scholarly vocabulary.

Event four. Our heroine bathes. In the shower. Soap, shampoo, and scrubby things participate. Also, lather. This portion is included only for the titillation of the male members of our audience, who are weird.

Event five. Wrapping a towel around her, our heroine goes to the kitchen to investigate the sanitary conditions of the sink. If there is any work to be done there, our heroine does it, leaving a little pool of water on the kitchen floor as a backup to the water now flooding the bathroom.

Event six. Our heroine gets dressed and sings loudly. Choice of music is optional.

Event seven. Our heroine realizes she forgot to dry herself and whines.

Event eight. Toothbrushing takes place. By this point, our heroine is quite awake and willing to face the world. From event seven onwards, all actions and consequences cannot be blamed on residual drowsiness. The very fact that our heroine has remembered to put clothes on at all constitutes full awareness and empirical evidence of sanity fully admissable in court.

Toothbrushing is a very serious business, by far the trickiest part of the day. This morning our heroine was as meticulous as ever in observing the technical challenges of the operation. .2 oz of Colgate Total Stripe Tartar Preventing Plaque Reducing toothpaste was spread on a parallel roll along the mouth of a pink Mentadent flexible handle toothbrush. The toothbrush was raised in a light but firm grip utilizing all fingers and thumbs in a cross-latticed standard wield. The operator faced herself squarely in the mirror, toothbrush raised parallel to the floor and forearm, elbow raised to shoulder height with toothpaste roll facing the oral aperature.

Today, things went wrong. All of the above went fine. One could explain the technical details of the subsequent fiasco using long and detailed phrases, but your honored storyteller, boys and girls, is getting bored. In layman's terms, quite simply: our heroine missed her mouth.

"Nerts," said our heroine.

Now, mind you, this sort of thing doesn't happen very often. Our heroine has a substantial oral cavity. Even the US Air Force would have no trouble hitting her mouth. However, on this particular occasion, our heroine found herself blinking at a reflection of herself with a large smear of blue-green Colgate Total Stripe Tartar Preventing Plaque Reducing toothpaste spread in copious amounts across her cheek and hair.

Subsequent investigation uncovered that the proud manufacturers of Colgate, who have spent many long hours and millions on their product, have developed a miraculous composite of various minerals and chemicals, (mixed with flouride and a minty fresh taste), that is stunning in its versatility. Ladies and gentlemen, it has the tenacity of duct tape, the viscosity of motor oil, the porous and quick-drying qualities of plaster, and the water resistance of a two-year-old. Sold in bottles of 7.8 oz, available at your nearest grocery store, Colgate has made available to the world a substance that could literally caulk aircraft carriers, and leave them smelling like your favorite brand of dental floss. Think of the possibilities of this substance. Facial masks; military repairs; home improvement projects; house cleaning; room freshening; automotive cleaning; deck sealing.

"Fudge," said our heroine, who is prone to using dated expressions because they have five letters, not four, and more is always better. She scrubbed her cheek with her toothbrush, (newly washed), until it was ruddy and clean and smelled nice.

Colgate Total Stripe Tartar Preventing Plaque Reducing 7.6 oz of toothpaste. Buy it. Not for human consumption.

In retrospect, instead of the novel I just wrote, I could have just written: 'missed my mouth while brushing. Guess that's the kind of day it's going to be.' However, that wouldn't have been half as entertaining.

Okay, the real point of this entry was going to be the party that's been going on in my kitchen for the past two weeks, but I'm exhausted from writing about my morning so I'm going to go crawl under my desk and nap for a while. I'll write about it when I wake up.