True Goochonline Stories...
About ten years ago I was making out with a girl at her house, where she lived with her father. I started to become self conscious about my breath, so I excused myself to the bathroom where I intended on eating some toothpaste to hinder my halitosis.
As I approached the bathroom, my friend told me that the light was burned out and they'd forgotten to change it. I said that was okay, since I'd surely be able to navigate my way around a five-by-five bathroom. I felt around the sink and didn't feel any toothpaste tubes. I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a familiar foil tube with plastic cap. I removed the cap, squeezed some of the gel onto my finger, and rubbed it on my tongue, teeth, and gums.
It was the worst tasting toothpaste ever. I looked down at the tube but couldn't make out the brand name in the dark.
The "toothpaste" started to harden as I swished it around my mouth and small hard pebbles of the substance began to stick to my tongue and the hard palate to the point where I began scratching the inside of my mouth trying to remove this mystery shit that began to cement itself to...
Cement itself? "Oh, shit" I thought to myself. "This isn't toothpaste... it's denture cement." At this point, I decided it would be best to come out and explain what happened because the girl was pretty cool and I'd rather her think that the extended perios of time in the bathroom was because I was an idiot rather than that I was taking a major shit.
Did I ever tell you about the time I wiped my ass with Clorox wipes?
Lots of negative fallout from the revelation that I had the spreadsheet mentioned in an earlier blog. "You need to keep stuff like that in your head so no one finds out" to "that's just not right" to "You should get rid of that." Thanks for the feedback.
Socccer ended last night with another victory... for the other team. I had fun, props to Britta for signing me up without my knowledge. I'll be playing again.
goochout.
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