Floss Angeles

Welcome to Floss Angeles. I hope that your stay is proving to be all that you fantasized and more.

Daily thought on marriage: I think it really must be true love because my husband went to get a crown put on his root canalled tooth today. He goes to a dentist named Dana. Her husband is a dentist as well. Do they converse about gingivitis over dinner?
"So today there was this young man who had the absolute worst case of receding gums I've ever seen! Absolutely never flosses!"
"Never flosses? You've got to be kidding!"
"Believe me, there are those out there that still do not floss. Please pass the salad dressing darling. Thank you. But back to my patient."
"Yes, do go on. I am fascinated by your non-flosser."
"Of course. Well, this young man seems to have the most odd preoccupations with his health. He was overly concerned that metal crowns might cause brain tumors so he insisted on the porcelain despite their price."
"Brain tumors? But he doesn't floss?"

Sunset Junction: Silverlake's annual street fair is this weekend so Sunset Blvd. is shut down for about 1/2 a mile so that all the hip white folks can come mingle with the out of the closet crowd, and the proud sellers of Fuck Bush t-shirts and incense will be salivating in anticipation of the handsome profits that will certainly be made. Admission is a suggested $10 donation. I'll be avoiding that suggestion fo' sho. There are two de rigeur outfits for the masses to arrive in. One faction will roll down Sunset in booty-crack low-rise jeans, a t-shirt with a saying like "Floss Angeles" or "Porn Scar", aviators, and a cowboy hat/trucker cap. The other faction will have the blue mohawk, nipple rings, multiple tattoos, eyeliner, and may possibly accessorize with track marks. I never really notice what they're wearing since I'm too busy trying to avoid staring at the aforementioned getup. I did not attend the fair last year since I was in my last month of pregnancy and truly could not envision a stylish outfit to rub shoulders in. This year I am not pregnant, despite my mother's snide comment suggesting otherwise, and have acquired the low rise jeans, but I am still at a loss for what to wear that will not smack of a work outfit modified for weekend hipness.

Drop Down and Get Your Eagle On Girl: Somewhere this phrase is being added to an ebonics phrase book. Perhaps the entry will read, "The process of bending knees and lowering one's rear end to the floor and subsequently opening and closing the legs, making a flapping motion that resembles the National bird." I do confess that I have tried to do this move in the privacy of my living room. Apparently those video hos do have some skill because I found it incredibly difficult to maintain balance and the flapping of my legs just didn't have the same hooch appeal. Plus, I hear songs like this and I envision a group of 3rd graders singing along and practicing the moves at recess.

Neighborhood Smack Down: Neighbors across the street were engaged in their weekly drunken porch party and were playing music at a very annoying decibel. I could not sleep. The baby was flopping. Olinga came and complained. It was almost midnight.
"Whyncha just call the police?" my husband asked.

For what? No one is getting shot or stabbed so why would Rampart waste their time? Besides, I felt like telling someone off. I put on my shoes and emerged into the dark night, ready to scare somebody with my lack of lipstick and unkempt hair. The walk across the street was over in a heartbeat and before I knew it, it was time to roll up on those suckas:

"If y'all muthafuckers wants to get shot tonite, keep the music on cuz my finga trigga is feelin' itchy."

Well, no actually, that's probably what they thought I was going to say, me being black and all, and them being unaware of my failure to drop down and get my eagle on. No, instead, I gave them the whole schpiel about having to be at work at 8:00, kids can't sleep, "So please turn the music off now." I really thought I had some moxie for phrasing it as a command, not as a question. I felt badass! There were some hanging jaws but then I got an apology and a promise that the music would be off, pronto.

I stalked back across the street, breathing a sigh of relief that I had remembered my keys. Really, how lame would I have looked if I'd gotten to the door of my building and couldn't get in? Five minutes later, off in dreamland, sound asleep.

Goodnight, and don't forget to floss.


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