Further Evidence of my Detardation

Hola Quesolitos. The Highest Cheese here with yet more proof that I am indeed a complete moron.

So it alll started about a week ago when I woke up (which I am pretty sure is incorrect english, but I awakened sounds a bit too snobby for the story...hmmm). It was a normal morning so after waking up, I layed there for a moment thanking God for this another day while simultaneously asking him why this another day couldn't have been enjoyed a couple of hours later into it. Nevertheless, I rose from the bed and went to the bathroom (overshare? No way. We share it all, right here. Because I love you.), washed my hands (largely because I am now OCD about handwashing due to spending summers at my grandmother's house--she used to tell us grandkids that if we didn't wash our hands after we went to the bathroom we would "get worms or AIDS." No lie. That is what she would say. Now, it is a complete falsehood that one can get AIDS from contact with their own bodily fluids, but we didn't know that. All we knew was Ryan White wasn't lookin' any better. Bottom line: We're all a little OCD about handwashing. Desired effect obtained, grandot. Touche.) Where was I...

So I wash my hands and then I reach for my toothbrush. I slather on the paste and start the water> I was even doing the whole conservation thing--turning off the water between brush rinses. At least for a bit...

But then I innocently brushed my tongue.

And when I spit, it looked like soy sauce.

Now, reader, I can assure you that the alst time I was scared like that was...well, it was when the most incredible woman in the world were forced into a North Jersey cab at 1:00 in the morning sitting by a guy who was eyeing us and nodding to the driver as the driver drove us deep into the ghettos of NOrth Jersey. Oh I was ready to fight to the death that night. But that's another story for another time. Needless to say, I was scared, really scared.

I brushed harder and spat again. Brown! More brushing, spit...Brown! More brushing--ignoring my gag reflex and the now wastefully rushing water--BROWN! Oh no! Oh no! Brown, Brown, Brown. I cried out, "But I washed my hands each time!!!" (Just kidding, I did not cry that out.)

Actually I kept scrubbing until my tongue was plump and bruised , but pink; and the spit--which I was now mustering from anywhere I could get it--was all clear and normal. Crisis at least temporarily averted.

Well, then there is a dilemma. The most incredible woman in the world is a medical professional, and a darn good one at that. She is an RN. But do you tell the one you love about such awful maladies as had afflicted my mouth? Would she ever kiss me again? So I thought about it, and I actually came to the conclusion that I would try to work it into a conversation non-chalantly. So lie. So here we are talking about tennis when I tried to work this one in...

MIWITW: "My serve wasn't working today."

Me: "It'll come around."

MIWITW: "We need to practice more."

Me: "So yeah, this morning while I was brushing my tongue my spit looked like motor oil. Whaddaya make of that?"

Not as smooth a transition as I was hoping. Nevertheless, the look on her face let me know about the kissing thing. She tried to recompose herself, only to gag a little and say, "really?"

So I went to bed alone that night...Oh, she was there too, but I was alone...with my big brown tongue. Just me and the doodoo mouth. My worst fears were coming true.

Well, the next morning I awoke and had only one thought swarming in my mind. I ran to the mirror.

NOTHING!!! Well, I mean, my tongue was there and that was something. But: PINK!!! seemed a little awkward. The point is...no brown tongue.

I'll save you the details and let you know that my whole: "So that tongue thing cleared up" comment was also not-so-skillfully emplloyed, nor did it have its desired effect.

A normal day full of spicy food and antacid later...I'm in the sack (still alone).

I awoke without a worry and went to the bathroom for the morning regimen (you could set your watch by my bowels. another overshare.). I brushed and spit...

BROWN! Oh god, why? It's back. I have some awful form of worms or AIDS or herpes or something that has mutated and become airborn. It's monkey pox. It must be.

I brushed my self swollen and clean again--but I knew I wasn't really clean. My tongue would rot off soon.

This time I consulted a different medical expert: The Internet.

I went to Web MD and searched brown tongue. It will suffice to simply say that all of the yes-no question diagnoses in the world that result in a wait and see answer that does not even hint at naming one's affliction are not worth the time spent cursing them out.

I dug deeper. I googled brown tongue.

Now let me say that one must be careful what one googles. The internet can be an awful place.

I selected my site carefully--I clicked on the first site. It was some blog about dookie. My kind of place. Actually, the discussion thread was exactly what I was looking for. It was here that I first found out that chewable Pepto Bismal tablets can cause a "temporary, yet harmless darkening of the tongue and stool."

Come to think of it, my stool had been...nevermind.

The point is: I am not rotting. I do not have any worms or AIDS or Hepatitus. I have a big fat box of Pepto Chewables that does God knows what to my insides if this is what happens to the visible parts of me that come into contact with it.

I am no longer alone...unless we eat spicy late. Then I am alone with my big brown tongue.

God save the Cheese.