proof positive!

last night i recovered my favorite fountain pen (yes, hal and alli, the one with the sheep on it) and a bag of both blue and black ink cartridges. with nothing but enthusiasm, i reassembled my pen at the office this morning, intent on doing my morning to do list in loopy, artistic, fountain pen-affected scrawl. gleefully, i printed out my pre-fabbed checklist format (yes, i made it myself. what? ::makes chuck norris face::)

::scratch. scritch.:: nothing.
::scratchscratchscratch!:: nothing.
::tap tap scratchscratchscratchswivel!:: niente.

pretty typical for a fountain pen that's not often used. brilliance strikes, and i put the nib in my mouth to suction the ink a bit (a strategy that's worked before with said pen). perhaps i overestimated my sucker, because black ink exploded, filling my mouth. (stop being dirty. it gets worse.) shocked, i did the natural thing and swallowed a pile of black ink. (now i know what a lady squid feels like. don't recommend it.)

panic ensues! i smile in the mirror (well, gape dramatically), and all of a sudden i look like a repulsive villain fresh from a stephen king thriller. never fear. there's obviously whitening toothpaste and a toothbrush in my desk for after-lunch brushes. i shove the necessary appliances in my back pocket, hop on the crutches, and start hobbling pathetically down the hall, through our neighboring ad agency. my lips are turning black. i see no less than seven people on the fifty foot trip to the bathroom. horror. i am the lagoon creature on crutches with dental implements leaking from her back pocket.

you'll all be happy to know that crest whitening toothpaste works wonders. the ads don't lie. ten brushes later while perched precariously on crutches (and waving my hand under the motion detectors on the sink) i've returned to a slightly blue-tinged but brilliant smile. under the fluorescent lights of the office, however, my teeth are glowing. moral of the story? don't do the things i do. ever.