Wednesday, March 13, 2013

The Sweet, The Sour and Shower Hour: Listerine and I

No pictures today folks; just fade in on a girl who recently discovered that truth is not something anyone wants to know. But everyone knew that, right? How often is it that the thing you want and the thing you get are the same thing; and even more often, how often is it that you still want it after?

Listerine and I started an unassuming relationship. He knew my past, and I knew none of his; how his friend, The Dentist, had ended our torrid and abusive love affair; promises of lollipops and shiny whites would not, could not keep me anymore. With that, I said goodbye to the side dishes as well (Sir Soda and Papa Popcorn) - no one likes a guy who is way too sweet (sickly! Too good to be true. Don't get me started on cotton candy) or one who just can't let go.

I should have found out more. I should have asked him more, talked to my friends - Mirroron D. Wall and Misinque (she has dreams of being a doowop singer - ask me no questions I tell her no lies), but before I knew it he had me vulnerable. Naked. Open. And he had me.

I hated the first taste. I couldn't take it. What was this? What was I getting into? I read his eyes again; no plaque, he said with a smile. No more bad breath. No more? I cried. Did I have it before? Smiling still he said nothing, pouring the poison down my throat. 30 seconds of gargling? Who does that? What masochist follows through without regret and washing out with water immediately after? Thus defeating the purpose, he reassured me. No pain no gain, he purred. Trust me.

And so here I am. Scared of being a weakling, I took the yellow way out and keep coming back for more. I can't help it. Fake it till you make it, you know. Maybe one day, I'll even do forty seconds, who knows. Thing is, I faced the truth, the truth I didn't really want to know but had to find out someday; I'm a coward, and that frightens me more than any old Listerine could. I have to prove myself wrong, right? I can't be all coward...right?

If you can't tell, I'm in the middle of Smash Season 2 after a week long marathon. There was a song after every paragraph.



  1. Nothing on Egypt?! #disappointment

  2. What is smash? You leave that business alone. The series to watch is Newsroom. I've been waking up early to watch it when there's peace and quiet and I can catch every word. The writing is second to none. It's more ooooooooh than 'Suits'. Try it. See if you don't start turning up your nose at every other alleged series.

    What's this Egypt business? I always thought you sounded like Mubarak's relative. Want to unburden your soul some?

    1. Yes sir.
      *looks down*

      Smash is ike the Broadway, grown up version of glee. It's pretty good.

      I am in Egypt. You think I am related why?

  3. reason in particular. Lame attempt at a half-assed joke. Please gather round and watch aforementioned sad attempt fall flat on the face and flop limply on the ground. Let that be a lesson to you all.

    Egypt. wow. Always wanted to go. Bring a memento s'il vous plait. That's Egyptian for please.

    1. *watches*

      HAHA! The memento will be the blogpost.