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Santa Maria Sun / Humor

The following article was posted on February 3rd, 2009, in the Santa Maria Sun - Volume 9, Issue 47 [ Submit a Story ]
The following articles were printed from Santa Maria Sun [santamariasun.com] - Volume 9, Issue 47

It was leaving her breathless

Krider realizes his breath can be a weapon of mass destruction

By ROB KRIDER

The other day I came home from work, and when I went in to give my wife a kiss, she made a sour face and turned her head away. I was shocked. “What’s up, Baby?”

“Your breath smells like a sweaty garbage can is what’s up.”

“A sweaty garbage can? Really?”

“Yes, it’s part rotten food and part fat guy on a hot day. It’s bad.”

“I don’t know why. I brushed my teeth this morning.”

“Yes, that was 10 hours, a trip to Starbucks, and lunch at Panda Express ago.”

“Yes, I did go to Panda Express today. In fact, my fortune cookie said I should be expecting romance in my life soon.”

“The only romance I see in your future is you kissing a toothbrush.”

Dejected, I headed to the bathroom and went through the routine of brushing my teeth. Afterward, I found my wife in the kitchen and I tried to start things over with a fresh kiss. She was trying to cook dinner and only found my attempts at flirting annoying. Apparently my kiss wasn’t as fresh as I had hoped.

“I’m trying to cook. You’re getting in the way, and you’re grossing out the kids.”

I looked over at my kids who were doing their homework at the kitchen table. “Hey, you kids don’t mind seeing your dad love your mom, do you? I mean c’mon. You’d rather see us kiss each other than get divorced. Right?” (Yes, this is the type of ridiculous logic my kids are faced with from their father on a daily basis.)

Both of my kids stared blankly at me, each of them actually considering divorce a viable option over watching their parents kiss each other. My son looked ill. I think for the first time in his life he actually wanted to read his math book. My daughter rolled her eyes and said, “I’m no longer hungry. I’ll skip dinner.”

I thought the whole thing was funny, so I continued to try and steal kisses from my wife while she tried to balance a pot of boiling water. Unfortunately, my breath did not pass the stink test. “Your breath is still bad. I can tell you brushed your teeth, but now your breath smells like a minty, sweaty garbage can.”

“What else can I do? I just brushed.”

“Did you brush your tongue?”

“No, I used my toothbrush to brush my teeth. I don’t have a tongue brush. What kind of question is that?”

“I’m going to get you a tongue scraper next time I go to the store.”

“A tongue scraper? Am I being punished? If you want me to scrape my tongue, buy me a cake. I’ll scrape my tongue with sugary goodness as it goes down my throat.”

“You need to make an appointment with your dentist to see if he can help you with your breath.”

I told my wife I would make an appointment immediately. Around six to seven months later, I finally went to the dentist. I told my dentist about the problems with my wife, the kissing, and her gag reflex. My dentist came to the conclusion that I had a foul mouth. No sh-t? Anyone who had ever been within earshot of me could have told him that, and none of them attended medical school in Guadalajara. More specifically, my dentist said I was a mouth breather. Then he sighed and gave me the bad news: As a function of my age, I was showing early signs of periodontitis.

“I have cancer?”

“No. You have gum disease.”

“I have disease from chewing too much bubble gum? I thought that was just for people who chewed tobacco.”

“No.”  My dentist paused for a second, not sure if he was dealing with a complete moron or not. “Your gums hold your teeth in place; you have plaque that is attacking your gums. Do you floss regularly?”

“Um ... could you define the word ‘regularly’?”

“Twice a day. Do you floss twice a day?”

“I’d have to think about that ... no.”

 “When was the last time you flossed?”

 “When was the last time I was in here and you flossed my teeth after my cleaning?”

My dentist realized what my wife has known for years, and that was I wasn’t a good listener. Since I didn’t respond to words, my dentist decided to convince me through something called PAIN. He jammed a sharp instrument into my gums under the guise that he was checking my gum disease, when I believe he was just trying to convince me to brush better. It was working. The process was incredibly painful, however it was less painful than having my wife, whom I love, shun kisses from me.

I was quickly convinced to make my breath a priority. After my remedial training on brushing and flossing, I was given an electric toothbrush, special toothpaste, floss, the dreaded tongue scraper, mouth wash, and sugarless chewing gum. My dentist put me on a routine, which, if I followed the steps correctly, would make my breath smell like minty heaven.

I headed home with my new, improved breath, opened the door, and announced, “You kids might want to go on a bike ride, because your dad is going to kiss your mom for a very long time.”

“Gross, dad!” 

“Nope, this time it won’t be gross.” m

Rob would like to officially say Happy Birthday to his boss, Executive Editor Ryan Miller, who is turning 30. “Welcome to your 30s, Bro. Better get yourself some breath mints.”




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