I lost my last baby tooth yesterday.
I should have lost it long ago, really. You're not supposed to have baby teeth anymore when you're my age. They are supposed to have fallen out of you long ago, when you gave up your other childish things like your security blanket and your stuffed animals and your tiny mary jane shoes with little pink bows on them. Yet that tooth had been with me all of my life, clinging to its roots on the upper left side of my mouth. It made my chewing a little easier.
It came out last night at around 9 PM. I was in the movie theatre, watching some godawful movie. I asked Ryan if he would please pass the popcorn ("Ryan, gimme that bucket, or I swear to God I will dump my Coke on your head and then accuse you of molesting me"). He complied ("Jeee--zus..."). In went the exploded kernels of buttery goodness, out came my molar. A fight onscreen between Bullseye and Daredevil began as I surveyed the damage in my mouth with my tongue. It felt different.
I remember the first time I lost a tooth. I was in kindergarten, and it fell out on the bus ride home. I was disapointed that it didn't fall out during school, for otherwise I would have been rewarded by a lollipop of some sort. I spent the next two years staying up late on schoolnights trying to wiggle my teeth out for the next day, but often I was so vigerous in the wiggling that it fell out that night instead of the intended day. I never did get a lollipop.
I didn't really lose my tooth. It's now sitting in a little box up in my closet next to my old security blanket and a pair of my baby shoes.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:35 PM
Friday, February 28, 2003
Mr. Rogers died today.
Never again will he lace up his shoes and zip up his sweater, bringing us to a happy place full of little manageable trains that we control instead of huge smelly trains that we are powerless against. And he always remembered to feed the fish, and the fish never died (at least, if it happened, it was never relayed to the audience). The neighbors were always friendly, and never called to complain about the noise.
Really, what will my children watch on TV? At the current rate, Sesame Street is due to take a bow in the next couple of years...will they be forced to watch genetically altered bananas form friendships? I mean, after the Teletubbies, anything's possible.
Whatever. I have lost my childhood friend.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 7:09 PM
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
I wondered briefly today how many toes emus actually have. I was torn between two and three.
But as I said, that was for a brief moment of time. I now know that that they have two, and that Minnesota should have laws against raising emus.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 7:36 PM
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
For future reference, no one should ever, ever let me play floor hockey.
I will take the stick and whack everybody's ankles with it.
I will be the worst goalie ever, merely sitting on the floor and inviting the puck to "hit me".
I will make friends with the puck, and object to anyone hitting it.
I will go utterly batshit insane.
Then again, I'm already rather batshit insane already, what with my moodswings and fixation with cows and the color orange. But I prefer to think of these things as "quirks", because it sounds cuter.
And if this is what batshit insane is, it's kind of cool. Come join us. It's warm once you get to the other side.
I'm making a pact with myself to not post anything on here that is somewhat depressing. I'm not a depressed person, and I don't want to present myself as such. I'm happy. I love life. I love myself. I love others. Well, some of them.
And besides, it's pretty darn fun playing floor hockey.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 7:36 PM
Monday, February 24, 2003
By my count, I owe myself 8 cheese-its.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 8:47 AM
Sunday, February 23, 2003
Tonight, ladies and menfolk, are the Grammies. Now, we all know that the Grammies "suxxor" because they do not acknoledge anything other than boring, mainstream music. But we're going to embrace them for the time being nonetheless.
Before you break out in unhappy moans, take a deep breath. Clear out your inner passageways, and let's begin. Because we're betting on the Grammies for high-quality crackers here. Cheese-Its.
For every correct prediction you make on the winners, I will personally award you one orange, cheddary Cheese It. And you know you want it.
I get Cheese-Its no matter what because I own the box, but here are my predictions (note: melly does not like some of these people, but thinks they will win nonetheless. and nonetheless is a good word) anyway:
Record of the Year- Don't Know Why; Norah Jones
Album of the Year- The Rising; Bruce Springsteen
Song of the Year- Don't Know Why; Norah Jones
Best New Artist- Avril Lavigne
Best Female Pop Vocal Performance- Don't Know Why; Norah Jones
Best Male Pop Vocal Performance-Your Body is a Wonderland; John Mayer
Best Pop Performance By A Duo Or Group With Vocal-Hey Baby; No Doubt
Best Pop Collaboration With Vocals-The Game of Love; Carlos Santana and Michelle Branch
Best Pop Vocal Album-Come Away With Me; Norah Jones
Best Alternative Music Album-A Rush Of Blood To The Head; Coldplay
(I think we all know now where our favorites stand)
Fresh squeezed by melly at 6:06 PM
It's funny, going through the day with only one contact in. You can see with half of your vision clear, half of it blurred beyond recognition. After awhile this sub-par vision affects the rest of your head as well, and you squint with the bad eye to relieve the pain. This makes you look like a pirate, but I find it's best not to break out into an "ARRR, MATEY!", for fear of scaring random passerby.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 5:43 PM