Everybody’s Got Something

We watched Sherlock Holmes Colon Game of Shadows a few nights ago. Don’t judge. It was certainly not my favorite of colon movies. That honor goes to Leprechaun: Back 2 Tha Hood. I haven’t actually seen this movie, and don’t plan to. I just really like the title. Anyway, I think a better title would have been Sherlock Holmes Colon The One Where Everyone Looks Like They Smell Really Bad.

The other day my buddy Gita suggested I write about teeth bleaching. She’d seen a box of bleaching strips in the drugstore and those bad boys were $50. AMERICAN MONEY. What’s that got to do with a 19th century fictional detective, you ask? Well, I was noticing in the movie there were a bunch of gypsies with really straight white teeth. Really, really white. Like almost blue. And straight. Did I mention that? Straight, even, and blindingly white. I guess they used their costume budget on Noomi Rapace’s hair extensions so more authentic dentures for extras were out of the question. Apparently all those jokes about British dentists are lies and more lies. It seems our cousins across the pond perfected UV whitening in 1889. Cheeky monkeys.

I’m not part of the Cult of Blinding Teeth. I brush, I have the occasional cavity or root canal. I had braces and a retainer I never used. Once I even bought a box of industrial strength whitening strips from a coworker who was in dental hygienist school and was selling them for some sort of fundraiser. I smoked for a number of years so I’m sure I really could have used them more than the three or four times I actually did.

I did a little Amazon search. Seems if you search “teeth whitening” you get something like 2,600 products. The most expensive one I found was something called a Glo. It looks like a retainer mated with a tanning bed and connected itself to an iPhone. It’s $275, BUT it uses a technology called Guided Light Optics, so you know it’s worth it. It does not say if it accidentally shocks you that you will receive superpowers, but a girl can dream.

Point being, fifty bones is a bit much for me to pay to have Band-Aids coated with hydrogen peroxide affixed to my teeth for any length of time. And the only way I’m going to stick $250 in my mouth is if I’m sitting at a table in Commander’s Palace and soft shell crab is involved. I don’t think people are foolish for wanting white teeth, and if you’ve got the money then by all means, stick the equivalent of an oral tanning bed in your mouth. Our many methods of tooth enhancement is one reason the terrorists hate us. Let’s face it, until Al Qaeda invents something that delivers both tooth whitening AND Botox in one nifty application, we still rule the world.

I’ve noticed an emerging trait in myself. I get a little pissy when the actor’s teeth don’t match the character’s teeth. It’s petty, I know that. I’m just saying that Ferdinand and Isabella decreed that bathing was illegal so I’m guessing they didn’t take a lot of time to scrub the old molars. I don’t think anyone playing Isabella should have teeth so white they seem transparent. They do extraordinary things with special effects these days. If you can make a person blue, I should think you could make her teeth brown. And gnarly.

Beyond that, of all the cosmetic enhancements I wish to make, blindingly white teeth are just above wanting my elbows not to look like smiley faces when they are not bent. I’ll spend the $50 on some sunscreen and moisturizer. A little concealer and lipstick never hurt anyone especially when the lipstick has blue undertones. Makes your teeth look a little whiter. And I notice two-inch black roots waaaay before teeth. There is an astounding array of nice hair color touch-up kits for about six bucks each.

No, if I’m going to spend $50 on something to make me look better, I’ll buy five of my favorite v-neck t-shirts from Target. It’s deep enough of a neckline no one really notices my teeth.


I am in possession of a teenager and a pre-teen lives next door. This means I hear that Gotye song. A lot. You know the one.


That little ditty makes for one bastard of an earworm. Every time I hear it, I’m reminded of another little ditty that I’ve not been able to identify. It’s the little xylophone/glockenspiel/vibraphone bit in the beginning. It’s been driving me nuts. What does that remind me of? Then it hit me. Ladies and gentlemen, the Nairobi Trio.