Really, officer! The reason I reek of whiskey is...

First of all, since I've registered with Blogexplosion, I'd like to welcome all my fellow blog surfers. If you are at all interested in laughing at someone who constantly seems to do stupid things, Blogmark me now. You can also laugh at me in the comments. Go on. I don't mind. Most of the time I'm thinking that Linde would never do something like (insert stupid move of the day...)

Case in point... I started going to a new dentist, and they give new referral customers a custom whitening kit, with specially made trays designed from molds of my teeth. Yup, way cool. So, I received my whitening kit on Monday and, although I just had two (rather large) cavaties filled, I was excited to try out my new toys (the toys being the syringes and mouth trays and stuff). And so, Monday night I began the first of four nights wearing the whitening goop. It even tasted pretty good! (And when I say tasted good, I mean in a medicinal, flouride-at-the-dentist's-office kind of way. Not good like Pizza or Tikka Masala.) They said only to use a little, because, according to the directions, a little goes a long way.

The next morning I woke up SO excited! I ran upstairs to check my brilliantly white teeth. Only, nothing had changed. Undeterred, I reasoned I had three days of the treatment left, and I drink about 8 cups of coffee a day (which, if you're new here, will probably end up explaining a lot in future) so I had a bit of yellow for the whitener to combat...

Well, not like nasty-teeth-on-the-cigarette-packages kind of yellow, because that's just bad hygene. For the courtesy of my American friends and visitors who probably haven't had the pleasure of this disgusting sight, see below. (And even funnier, the caption under this picture when I Googled it actually read "Ugly Canadian Cigarette Warnings")

Yeah, nothing that bad. Just for the record.

So, last night I filled the trays a bit more. Not much, just a bit. At three am I awoke from a disturbing dream about throbbing gums to find my gums were throbbing. So, in my sleep, I took out the trays, the dentist's voice ringing through my hazy dream state. "Your teeth can be a bit sensitive after you use the whitener."

At eight am, even without the stuff in my mouth, my teeth were stinging and my gums burning! I couldn't sleep. I could hardly cry. I was reminded of the time I took some of those muscle-woman pills before I went to the gym and then got on the arms machine. For the next 72 hours I was less useful than a goat. It hurt to lay there. It hurt to sleep. It hurt to breathe!

And so, at 10 am I hit the sauce. I firmly believe that Scottish single malt whiskey is the cure to everything (it is, after all, called the Water of Life). For five hours I did little else but rub Glenlivet on my ailing gums. They would go numb for about 24 seconds, and then begin to throb again, at which point I would reapply the whiskey.

Finally, at 3 pm I decided it was time to get out. I couldn't concentrate on my murder mystery, I couldn't even focus on the television. So, I thought I would take my new book (which is brilliant, by the way) to Chapters and get a coffee.

And so, I stood in line at Starbucks, tongue wedged between my top lip and my teeth to prevent any chilly air from sneaking through the tiniest spaces between my lips. The barrista asked me what I wanted. I leaned really closely and ordered (Thanks to Michelle) a Pumpkin Spice Latte.

"Only, can you just make it luke warm?"

He flashed me a weird look, glanced outside at the Canadian winter, then looked back at me (tongue back between lip and teeth). "Like, what - 140?"

"Actually," I said with great effort, "Like, 120." (Tongue immediately back between teeth and lip.)

He paused. "Are you sure? That's not very hot."

This time, without even dislodging my tongue, I replied, "I've indured my mouf."

He started laughing. And not one of those laughs like he was laughing with me. Oh no. He was laughing at me. And so he yells, as they do at Starbucks, to the other barrista as he wrote on the sleeve, "One Grande Pumpkin Spice Latte, 120 degrees for the woman with the injured mouth."

Durrrr!

Then he asks me if I still wanted the whipped cream on top. It was my turn to laugh at him. Um, yeah.

Then, as the other barrista hands me the drink, she yells it out again! I'm shushing her as people in deep arm chairs look up from their conversations and books at me once again. With tongue between lip and teeth, I say "thnks" and shuffle to the only available chair.

I went for the Pumpkin Spice because Michelle always blogs about them. Thank you, Michelle. I thought it would be gross. It actually was not.

Gross, that is.

And a friend of mine lent me a book called The Bride Stripped Bare by Nikki Gemmell. I'm only 37 pages in, but so far I love it.

My teeth are feeling a bit better, but everything I touch, for some reason, feels like I'm chewing on a piece of tin foil. I don't even have to chew on the aforementioned "things", I just have to touch them with my fingers, and I go into heeby-geeby spasms.

Moral of the story: don't be dumb.