One of my favorite daily activities is flossing my teeth. It may not seem like it, but I like flossing my teeth. To bleeding level. Truly I must have been doing it wrong for years on end, because after flossing my mouth always hurts like crap. I try to maintain proper dental hygiene at the behest of my high school friend dentist Tim Drake, who has now improved in all respects as a dentist. When he was still new in this profession he would commit tiny mistakes, such as asking me questions that require more than a yes or a no answer while metallic implements and stuff are being poked in my mouth (“Paano nagkakilala si Trina at si Troy?”), or getting so engrossed in a monologue that he doesn’t notice that my shirt is now totally wet from all the water flowing from my mouth.

I am remembering this incident because right now I am so hungry and for some rather perplexing reason I have the urge to eat those floss-themed bread. A used dental floss would have to be the smelliest thing in all of creation (really, try it, try to smell a used dental floss), so I’m constantly perplexed why food called floss would seem appetizing, or why I want want want to eat it right now. Many, many years ago when we were in grade 6 Mrs. Platypi noted that my classmate Michael was eating in class. Of course she had to point it out out loud in front of the class, totally incensed and stuff. That would have to be my lasting memory of elementary teachers and librarians, they are always fucking INCENSED.

Mrs. Platypi: Michael ANONG KINAKAIN MO?!?!

Michael opened his mouth, took out the thing he was nibbling, and non-chalantly said:

Michael: Ma’am, TINGA.

TINGA!

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