Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Not all smiles...


I don't know about you but I feel like I'm always running out of toothpaste.

Not in the beginning I guess. When you buy a fresh tube of toothpaste, you get that invincible feeling. It's like a full tank of gas, an empty laundry bin, or a box of q-tips from Costco. You're on top of the world and it's never going to end.

Well it does end.

And with toothpaste, it starts ending earlier than you think.

About a week into a toothpaste tube, it has transgressed from a beautiful, flawless cylinder and begins taking that flat, deflated look.

After another week, you begin considering getting a fresh tube even though you know if you really work at it, you can make the one you have last one, maybe two more months.

So for the next two months, every morning, you wake up and in addition to preparing to face the day, you also have to do battle with your toothpaste.

The tube's last week is the worst. The battles are fierce, bordering on epic. And each day's victory is more uncertain than the one before it.

And eventually the day comes where you lose. You simply can't muscle out a single drop of mouth-cleansing glory.

For me, that day was today.


I woke up, like most mornings, dazed and inexplicably angry.

Gathering my Old Spice Body Wash, Sexed-Up Shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste, I headed to the shower.

When I got there, I mentally prepared for the upcoming tube duel and then after 20 seconds or so, made the first strike.

Earlier in the week, I'd begun using the slide-against-the-edge-of-the-counter method to great success so I began with that tried-and-true method.

No dice.

I stepped back, caught my breath and, vowing to get a new tube today, went to my ace in the hole.

I cracked my fingers, stretched my forearms and then pressed my thumbs against the backside of the opening, pushing with all my might.

Within 15 seconds, my thumbs began cramping. In 30 seconds, I was covered in sweat. When a minute passed, I'd almost fainted.

As the minute and-a-half mark was rapidly approaching, I gave up.

Toothpaste - 1, Pomer - 0.

Defeated, I turned to a friend of mine who was also in the bathroom and asked to borrow some of his toothpaste.

He said "Sure" and handed me this...






What the hell?


Now don't get me wrong, I'm no neat freak. Far from it.

And I'm not saying you need keep your toothpaste rolled up with a chip clip like my grandmother does...


But what the hell?


What happened?


Did my friend not ever put the top back on the toothpaste when he was done?

Did he not use a toothbrush at all and just rub the toothpaste on his teeth, directly from the tube?

I have no idea.

But I didn't ask. I had to use the toothpaste. And at that point, I just didn't want to know.

Taking a deep breath, I held my nose, squeezed out a crusty-minty blend and did the deed.

When I finished, I considered throwing up but decided not to when I realized I'd have to brush my teeth again.


All in all, it was a horrible experience and one I hope I never have to endure again. As soon as I finish this blog post, I'm going to CVS and spending at least $20 on toothpaste tubes.

And if you're in the last week of your war against toothpaste, I suggest you do the same...

1 comment:

Sarah said...

I like getting the mini tubes because they aren't big enough to reach that 'hard to squeeze the last bit out' stage and you don't have them long enough for them to become unsanitary like your fellow lodge mates

You should try switching over. It'll change your life.