Ticking Clock

To contact us Click HERE
On a rainy Saturday night, I head to dinner with friends while the humidity attack my curly hair. By the time we reach to the bar later that evening, my defined curls turn to fuzzy brown dreadlocks.

I tell everyone I'll be back in a bit and bee-line it to the restroom to finagle (weird word...) a quick updo.  I stick so many bobby pins in my hair that seriously I wonder what would happen if a magnet neared my head.  I sweep my hand through my purse looking for my work-nametag, with a convenient magnetic clasp. What a perfect test object this would be...a fun party trick!  Bummer.  Left it in my other bag.

I decide to pee, already thinking that my friends are going to wonder what I've gotten myself into while in the bathroom...

I come out and tinker with my hair a bit more in the mirror, wash hands, and quickly do an all-teeth smile to check for food bits.

And      there.    it.     was.

A black speck.

It was nestled between my front teeth.  With no one in the restroom, I dig fanatically with my fingernail and successfully jab this stubborn bit-o-food further into my tooth crevice.

I quickly place my tongue over the crevice and suck.

Wow, this is quite possibly one of the most unattractive faces one can make..gross look at that wrinkle and neck vain. Pshaackt Pshaackt...I continue to suck.  I feel pathetic.

No luck.

Next option...and this one I'm even less proud of...

I opt for hair-floss.

That's right, I carefully selected my strongest piece of hair, yanked it from my scalp, inspect it for strength and proceed with proper flossing technique.

Come on baby, momma doesn't condition you for nothin'!

That hair had no chance.  Barely sliding it between my two teeth, it breaks.  I feel the pressure build in that crevice. I now not only have a very persistent piece of food stuck in there but also a strand of my very own hair.

This is taking too long. My friends think I'm poo-ing. Must. Hurry. Up.

Another girl walks into the restroom so I hastily switch from prodding my gums to fake-primping....running my hand over my awful frizz-covered hair.

She enters the stall.

I panic...short on time. I bend a piece of paper towel forming a firm corner edge and begin wedging...

Get in therrrre...get in there...


I hope she's a toilet-texter because this thing isn't budging...

I curl my lip up.  The black speck smirks back at me.

Toilet flushes as a pull out a stick of gum.

Chomp chomp chomp, enough to get some sticky texture.  I stuff it in my teeth and carefully pull.

The ole' chew, stick, and yank method.

Fail.

What do I do?What do I do?What do I do? 


What am I going to tell my friends? There was a bathroom line. Definitely a line.

As bar-girl opens her stall door I duck out of the bathroom...

Solution: drink my beer a little faster, stand in a low-lighted corner, closed mouth smile, and practice ventriloquist talking.