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September 30th, 2005

Oh hell, I ate a 4 oz. sirloin tip steak and a whole batch of those ready to back turtle cookies with chocolate chips, walnuts, and caramel in the middle.

I’m sorry everybody, I’m sorry.

So, you can imagine I had a lot of stuff in my teeth necessitating a good flossing to remove said things, the things you can imagine being stuck in my teeth (actually, between my teeth). I’m trying to say that I was flossing with dental floss. You do that when you’re sober. When you’re addicted to crack cocaine you don’t. So, yeah, I flossed, and I had a pretty good, productive, bits-on-the-mirror session really. And I went to drop my flosstring in the waste basket (a square, molded plastic bucket lined with a crinkley white plastic grocery bag) and then follow-up with a good, vigorous brushing (you do these things when you’re on the wagon, I’m telling you) and I noticed that the flosstring had stuck to the bottom of my palm and the flosstring had fallen like jetsam onto the bathroom counter. I imagined my obliviosity as I pulled my had back up from over the trashcan, a spent flosstring stuck to it–kind of like a piece of terlet tissue to the bottom of a shoe walking out of a public bathroom–and I thought to myself, “That must have been really funny for God to watch.”

Entry Filed under: Lifin