Friday, April 29, 2011


I am always the last to know. It seems like while I was sleeping – meaning that for the past few months I have been assiduously reading the news, with an emphasis on politics, discord, disasters, and financial markets – two celebrities unknown to me got hitched.
Well slap my face and call me spinach. No idea.
I wasn't paying attention.
British celebrities, at that.

Mazzel tov, you two.

To quote from a completely random dude in the elevator this morning, “they can’t be English, they’ve got good teeth!”

Apparently teeth figure prominently in British marriages. I didn’t know.
I suppose teeth are rather important – when you’re fumbling simultaneously with the clasps on a brassiere and your own confusing princely undergarments, plus tweeds, slippers, and a terrier, teeth are like a third hand.
And you may also need them later, when you have to open a small packet while holding on to a skittish other person. Or waxing yourself. Or telling the terrier to let go of the slippers. Scoot, little dog, scoot. Grrrr.

Plus teeth are good for nibbling cute little parts of the other person.
Or persons, plural – but only two people are involved in this, right?
Just checking. You never know. Foreign sex and whatnot.

Oh, and eating. I believe newly-weds eat. Even royals.
Certainly she will – she probably starved herself horribly to get into that dress. Women do that – that much of popular culture I’m aware of.
Self torture for an absurd cause.
Say yes to the tiny tight dress.
Masochism - it's the fundament of weddings.

Along with sadism, but that's something for the list of invitees.

So she’s ravenous. Girl wants some bacon! Hasn’t had any for months.
Three crisp greasy rashers, at least.

“They can’t be English, they’ve got good teeth!”

If she’s typically British, she may want to shove the bacon strips in a blender. Saves time – gumming bacon is fun, but it takes so much longer to render it swallowable. And you must at least partially reduce it to a digestible state, otherwise the sudden influx of rich porky fat in still semi-solid form will shock the stomach lining, and prompt the release of large amounts of stomach fluids.
Which leads to acid indigestion, reflux, cramps. And, most notably, bad breath.
Nothing worse than trying to kiss someone with burning gut fumes coming out of their mouths.

If they were spiders, it would be quite natural to avoid the orifice of the other person (mandibles), because spiders dissolve the chunky parts of their food with a spew of digestive liquids right into the wound. Of course, they also eat their mates – not sure if English women do that, I have heard that they instead keep them alive to torture at leisure.
I’m guessing part of that involves breathing at them.
Probably raises blisters and makes the eyes water.
Might even strip paint.

Face-peeling breath, resulting from indigestion, reflux, and cramps.
Horrible discomfort, coupled with bad temper.
These unpleasant things are probably endemic in Britain, largely due to the wealth of indigestible substances in their "cuisine".

And that’s precisely why you could really use some teeth.

It isn’t just British sex which requires chompers, but British food.

Over here in the colonies, we don’t really need teeth.
We eat far better, and our sexual habits are different.

Our teeth are a luxury that we can wallow in.

Maybe the happy couple are secretly Yanks?

It would explain a lot.

Anyway, mazzel tov, you two!

Now, go off and have as much happy sex as you possibly can.
Before your teeth fall out.

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