The better to make into art projects that weird out your friends and relatives, my dear.

I may have been an odd child (fuck, I may still be an odd child). I did all kinds of bizarre, strange things while growing up, as I'm sure everyone did. One comes to mind, and has to do with my last post, so I thought I would share (unless you're my father, in which case you ought to stop reading unless you want to experience a serious birthday spoiler). 

When I was, uh, 11 or something, I had to have four adult teeth removed. They were the four teeth that were behind each of my canines (I don't know if they're actually canines.... They're the pointiest teeth people have, so it seems right). The reason for this was that my huge, giant, really loud mouth was physically too small to accommodate all of my teeth. Yes, I was awake during the removal of these teeth. Yes, it was weird as all hell. Also, as a bonus, they gave me the four teeth they removed. 

I've since been told that oral surgeons no longer part with the fun things they remove from the mouths of the public, and I think that's tragic. People ought to fight for that more than they do. I mean, they're your fucking teeth. You grew them. You brushed them twice daily (I hope). You experienced pain with them when they first came in, and lust love with them when they were first touched by the tongue of that weird kid in the 9th grade that thought "french kissing" and "kissing" were the same thing. They were with you through your first punch in the jaw for calling some kids mom a hooker (because you were probably too young to use colorful, more creative terms like "brazen hussy" or "trollop"). They enjoyed your first beer, or wine cooler if you're not a huge fan of beer. They're a part of you. I don't understand why people haven't formed coalitions, or called in lobbyists, or rallied about this bullshit.

But yes, I was one of the lucky few who had their teeth returned to them upon removal. They sat on my bookshelf in a small case, next to my boom box with a dual tape deck, for a good 6 months to a year with no more than the occasional "Hey guys, check this out, it's teeth!" from me and, "Ewwwww, awesome" from my incredibly sophisticated childhood friends.

Life went on. Then, one day, my mum came home after a trip to Michaels. She called me into the dining room, and informed me that she got some craft stuff and was hoping we could do some mother-daughter bonding (probably because she's actually my step-mum, and I am was a horrendous pain in the ass always as a kid). 

One of the crafty things she brought home was a soap-making kit. She also got some shells, and flowers, and other cute things to put in the different molds. There were scents, too, and food color that helped add to the "creativity" bit of the project. Halfway through, while I was arranging some flowers in the oval soap and Mum was sticking seashells into a star-soap, she gasped slightly and looked up at me. "What?" was my youthful, polite response that was not at all in an adolescent, pain in the ass kind of tone. "Lindsey, I just had an idea. Go get your teeth!"

As I realized what she was thinking, I forgot my pointless, cliche, youthful irritation jumped up and ran to my room, grabbing the box with my teeth and running back. We ended up making two clear, heart-shaped soaps. Each contained one of my adult teeth. They were lovely, and thoughtful, and oh, so endearing, and really quite weird as fuck.

So I gave them to my dad for Father's day. His response was something like, "Oh, soap. Did you guys make these with the kit that Bec got? Cool. Hey, there's something in them.... Lindsey, are those your TEETH?! Oh, AWESOME!" Mum and I beamed with pride, and Dad still has those heart-teeth-soaps in a dish in his bathroom, 12(ish) years later. 


Now for the fun part (Dad, totes not kidding. You'll be pissed with yourself if you keep reading. Unless even my own father doesn't read this, in which case, what the fuck, Dad? You give me all kinds of crap for missing dinner at your place because I was sick last week, and you're not even reading my blog? Way to be a huge jerkface). I came across one of my teeth a while ago, when I was trying to clean my house. I have no idea where the fourth tooth ran off to, or how this tooth ended up still loitering around my miscellaneous junk, but I was going through some random nonsense one day and there it was. 

Adult teeth are surprisingly huge when they're pulled out of your face.

After throwing around some ideas with Mum, the fate of this tooth was finally decided. 

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I am going to make my father a painting. Okay, that's not really a big deal. I paint all the damn time. It's a hobby, that is occasionally lucrative and a teensy bit more than occasionally relaxing. What's epic is this: I am making my dad a painting of himself, as a zombie. Included in this painting will be my tooth. I'm going to put the tooth on the end of a piece of red yarn, and dangle it from his zombie gums using epoxy. It will be graphic, and hysterical, and if he doesn't put it up in his office at work I will be wholeheartedly disappointed.


This promises to be the most epic zombie-esque painting I've done yet, and I will absolutely post photos once it's nearing completion. 

...

Okay, well, that bulletin was what this entire post was leading up to. So, you know, go to bed, or something. Oooh, or enjoy drowning your disappointment in this anticlimactic end with whiskey. And save me some. Sharing is caring, bitches. Meanwhile, I'm going to go kick the shit out of this insomnia until both Insomnia and I are so tired one of us HAS to sleep. That means I'll get to sleep at least a little, regardless of the outcome of the fight (even though I'm a badass and am going to destroy that perky bastard). 

*Note to self: No more half-watching American Gladiator reruns while writing a post for the blog.

P.S. Here's a photo of my teeth, just to prove that I didn't lose this tooth recently and that I am not actually a secret hillbilly. 

This is often referred to as "The Dragon Face". It makes regular appearances when I know for a fact that an attempt at a smile will result in a horrible drunk face. Because everyone knows that dragon>drunk.

P.S.Again. I'm totally not making a dragon face right now.