Stuck in Misery, Missouri.

Hello Holiday Traveler!!!

This is NASTY GIGI reporting from Kansas City, Missouri aka Misery! I am on another adventure due to being clumsy, dumb, and a true adventurer! I decided that after being with family for the holidays I needed to further torture myself with being on standby at the airport for the rest of my life. (I want to emphasize that I am drunk while writing this blog, so please be a little forgiving of any grammar errors or any context issues you might have with this entry.) 

After a lengthy Thanksgiving in Nashville, TN (one of the greatest American cities in the world) my Southern husband and I were dropped off my my in laws who wonderfully hurried us out the door and dropped us off at the airport. They even made us coffee in thermoses and fed us yogurt on the way. This was a wonderful gesture.

The only problem that came was when my Southern husband arrived at the Southwest check in. We cut the line.

 "Ooh! You cut the line" said the charismatic Southwest employee as he helped us with out check-in. "Ooh! You cut the line!" Please imagine as you are reading this a wonderful, gentile, Southern accent. Read it again if you must, because, "Ooh! You cut the line!" is now a dagger in my heart as I sit in write this blog, because then he said, "Your flight is gone."

      "What?"

       "It left at 7:15am. It's 8:06 am."

       "Shut the fuck up!" I said this as I looked at my Southern husband, my eyebrows up and my mouth open.

       "I can't believe I did this." He put his hand to his forehead. He closed his eyes and the stress wrinkles in his forehead started to become taunt.

       "I can't believe you did this to us!"

The man behind the kiosk didn't really know what to do, and looking at him, I began to realize that our frustration was making it difficult for him to do his job. So, I decided to take a deep breath and ask, "What can we do?" 

         He graciously helped us with a plan and we went on our merry way, although I was not merry, nor was my Southern husband. We went back in forth with whens whys and hows. I definitely made my stance known, and he definitely made his, and boy was there a lot of cursing. I felt bad about doing this in the South because it's not proper. Where I come from no one cares, but I could tell that the people around me were just as uncomfortable as we were. But that didn't stop me from cursing. NOTHING CAN STOP ME FROM CURSING! I also had eaten hot fried chicken the day before and had just had coffee so I needed to get through the line quickly.

         When we got to the gate of the next flight we didn't get on it. There were so many standby passengers ahead and behind us. But, I was smart, during the wait for the plane we would never catch I went to the kiosk for the next flight and put our names in there. We made that flight. It was a flight from Nashville to Kansas City to Los Angeles. The Southwest worker named Johanna warned me that we might get kicked off the flight in Kansas City, but stay on until we were. When she handed me the boarding passes I breathed a sigh of relief. We were getting on this flight. Both of us.

         I texted my best friend telling him to pray or hope or whatever and he texted me back, "It's Done." When we arrived in Kansas City I hoped as the people deplaned and hoped as they boarded. My Southern husband and I had found prime seating on the flight to Los Angeles. It was the kind of flight that if you are going to the next destination you don't have to deplane, you can stay on if you want." But, as the people were boarded a flight attendant with bleached blond hair announced our names and said one of us had to get off. Of course my Southern husband was in the bathroom because of the spicy hot fried chicken.

Ribs in Misery

       "We'll both get off!" 

The flight attendant stopped boarding so he could kick us off as my Southern husband made his way from the bathroom. I was angry at him for taking a poop as we exited the plane in humiliation.

We made out way to the kiosk in Missouri aka Misery and found out that one of us could get back on the plane.

       "You go!' I exclaimed, "I can get another flight. You go!'

       "I don't want to leave you!" He said.

If you have ever been holiday traveling and you're on standby you know that it's easier to travel solo than in a pair. I yelled at him, "Go!" He was reluctant, we exchanged eyes, but he went. I was sad to see him go. But I knew that he would never survive a layover. He is like Peeta and I am Katinss. You always have to protect Peeta.
The girl at the kiosk, she had an elegant name that I don't remember, got me on a flight. It was a five hour wait, but it was guaranteed.

      So, I write this in misery. Drunk. In Missouri. Misery could be worse. If you look to the right you will notice that they have authentic BBQ in Misery and beer. This makes the wait superb, I guess.

peeta (husband)

katniss (me)

Bats in Space: The Tale of The Faceless Lady with Pale Blue Eyes.

Bats in Space!!!!!

It's almost Halloween and so much has happened in the last several months for me, Nasty Gigi, and my mouth transformation. I got bottom braces, Backy got a front bracket, I can't bite down or close my mouth completely, and learned that you shouldn't eat nacho cheese and chips at a redneck wedding when you have braces.

Bottom braces are the worst. They cut up my mouth, and give me marks that will stay with me for life. I lost Toothy (my baby tooth) in some rubble in my house. I'm pretty sure I threw him away, and I'm fairly certain that he is reaping his vengeance. Before our break-up he convinced me to make him into a necklace that I would wear in his memory. "This way, I'll always be close to your heart." It's a good thing I lost him. Do any of you remember the media frenzy when Angelina Jolie wore a vial with Billy Bob Thorton's blood around her neck?

I lost Toothy, so that Backy wouldn't be scared off and move to the front. That's really the objective anyway, right? The transformation in my mouth is startling (see end of blog). I used to come back from the orthodontist and think, "This dude doesn't know what he's doing." But he does. He also loves to inflict pain and confusion. It's part of his/her job.

The orthodontist has many assistants who aide him. The first assistant I had wasn't into the torture tip. His name is Roger.  He was the one who installed my wires, brackets, and mouth ramp seen to the right. He also lives in my building. He is my neighbor. We have a bond. I love him because he tries to talk to me during appointments when the only responses I can give him are muffled retorts. But, he understands me.

What are those blue things you ask? They are there so I can't bite down completely in order for Backy to jump the bottom row. It's a process that we call at the Orthospaceship "jumping the tooth". This also means that I can't eat quesadillas in public without looking like a dog fighting with its chew toy.

Roger has been with me from the beginning. It wasn't until I broke the Orthodontic cardinal rule: DO NOT EAT CHIPS, that the head orthodontist took me away from Roger and threw me over to the FACELESS LADY with PALE BLUE EYES.

I ate the chips while I was attending a redneck wedding. The wedding of Tony and Kelly: two gracious and fun loving people. They got married in Norco, aka "Horsetown" at a church with a Western themed stage.

The colors were red, white, and blue, the men wore cowboy hats, and the reception was at a trailer park. It was a beautiful wedding with great barbecue, beer coozies, and hooting and hollering. I don't know how any wedding can top this one.

sans left bite ramp

After drinking a $2 beer at the bar inside the trailer park, I went over to the reception to find Croc-pots on every table filled with nacho cheese. I hadn't eaten yet, because the wedding was at noon, so despite what Roger had instructed me to do, I ate chips. They were delicious. They were a mistake. The chips were so crunchy that I didn't seem to notice that I ate one of my blue bite ramps. Perhaps it was the Bud-Light that clouded my vision, or perhaps those blue ramps are delicious!

Despite the beer, It didn't take long for me to notice, that my mouth was the hot mess at the wedding. When I told my  hypochondriac husband he spun over his iPhone to see if eating that blue stuff would result in my demise. He wanted to rush to the hospital and take me away from the redneck spectacle. Men with long hair and long beards were chanting during the mother of the bride's speech!
"No way Jose!" I declared, "why would any doctor put something toxic in any one's mouth? Get off your iPhone!" But he didn't listen and disappeared into the sea of trailers with his iPhone pressed against his eyeballs. It wasn't until the barbecue was served that he resurfaced. The man loves food more than me or technology.

Roger is behind me as I gaze at my rubber band.

After the wedding, I made an appointment to see my Orthodontist,  and that's when I met THE FACELESS WOMAN with PALE BLUE EYES. She also has a thick accent, which can creep you out when you can't really see her face. Up until this point going to get my braces was a lark. A game. But this time, she inflicted the pain. She replaced the blue ramp as instructed, but moved on to replacing a wire. This wasn't a part of the plan! "Do you want to 'jump the tooth' or not?" She glared at me. In my head I chanted my mantra,
"Bring Backy to the front...bring Backy to the front..." But as she put in the wire she pushed on Backy. We looked for something to squeeze as we called out in pain.
"I'm sorry sweetie," was all she could say as I pulled away from her to try to avoid the pain I felt in my mouth. But she kept pushing and held my head, "don't move away from me!"

I swear I could hear a cackle from hell. Toothy was seeking his revenge.

welcome Coach to the team!

After she was done I breathed a sigh of relief and looked over at Roger. "I'm going to complain," I thought. "I'm going to get Roger back." And as I was about to get up THE FACELESS WOMAN with PALE BLUE EYES touched my shoulder.
"The doctor has instructed me to show you how to install the rubber band." I screamed.

So, now Backy has a friend! A rubber band I call Coach. It's quite an ordeal to get Coach out onto the field, but when he comes out, he definitely gets Backy to feel the burn.

Shit my mouth hurts.

       MY MOUTH TRANSFORMATION

        

Black Guys Love Braces

So, I thought when I walked into the Orthospaceship, aka my orthodontist, that I was going to get my bottom braces. I felt wonderfully secure as I sauntered into the office, past a screaming child who was having his braces installed for the first time because, "You're the Best," the theme from The Karate Kid was playing. I was gonna get my bottom braces and be brave like Daniel-Son.

But, my Orthodontist said I needed a little more time, tightened a spring or two, and sent me on my merry way.

But, that didn't mean that I didn't have material to write about. Being an adult with braces is an extremely wonderful thing. It's a period where you are able to really understand the human condition. Why? Because people's reactions to braces tell you what kind of person they are. Some react in a jubilant way: adventurous person; some react in a painful way: hermit, and some don't react at all: boring. And then there are those who react in a sexual way: kinky. And in the month that I have had braces all of the people who have reacted this way are black guys. This has lead me to the realization that: Black guys love braces.

When I was prepping for braces a co-worker of mine let me in on a little known sexual secret, "It's a thing," is the term he used. Some people are into chicks with braces. I thought that this was a hilarious joke. What dude would be into a chick that had an actual metal barrier that divided their love? I brushed off his statement. I mean, braces do make me look younger, but do they make me look sexier?

My first encounter with the braces = sexy to black men theory was when I was with two of my friends at a popular dive bar frequented by millennials. I am in fact not a millennial. I guess I would classify my generation as the backwash of Gen X/ grunge. Pre-millennial.  Both of my millennial friends are hip/attractive and knew almost everyone at the bar. Instead of the schmooze that I thought I was going to observe these two were really into acting like cats. Yes, these two enjoined meowing, pawing, and hissing in public. I leaned over, "Would you two be acting like this if I wasn't here?" They both raised their eyebrows in agreement and continued to play.

While the cats played the black guy from across the bar was noticing me. He was introduced to me by my friend, the girl cat, as he was also a regular at this bar. He said, "Hello," in that sub-textual way like, it's really nice to meet you or you're hot or whatever. I looked at him funny and said the first thing that popped into my mind,
            "I have braces." The black guy smirked and replied,
            "I know. They're sexy." Puzzled, my wit responded,
            "They're a death trap."
           "I'm a man and...I'm a man...I'm a man..."  He said this as he put his hands up in surrender and backed away from me.  My cat friends couldn't believe that I had actually said this to someone. I thought it was a conversation starter. My guy cat friend once again confirmed, "See I told you it was a thing."

The second encounter I had was when I was at a conference and I met a former co-worker of a friend, and yes, he was a black guy. During dinner at a restaurant this dude put on lotion and had "accidentally" put on too much. He looked over at me as I smiled and decided to rub his arm against mine because apparently I needed some lotion too. Who uses lotion anyway? Plus, who uses lotion at a restaurant? I was naive to the fact that the rubbing of forearms is the international sign for getting busy. So, I guess he thought maybe I was into him because he looked at me, with my mouth full of braces, and let me know he was interested. In the back of my mind I was like, "Really?" It wasn't until my conference friend, who isn't clueless, noticed his flirtation and sneakily brought up the fact that I was married. Thus ending this dude's brace face fantasy.

My third and fourth encounter happened at the same event. It was at a skater video exhibition where hundreds of twenty something skaters were drinking free booze while clutching their skateboards. I must admit that it probably wasn't until the free booze took its toll on the minds of the skaters that the beasts that were inside them came out. And when the beasts revealed themselves, it wasn't the white nerds, Latinos, Asians, or American Indians, that took notice of the metal in my mouth but two black men.

The third black dude was charming and full of it. He walked up to me and said, "That's a nice dress, but the tag is showing." I naively tugged at the back of my dress,
                "Is it really?'
                "Yeah, it says, made in heaven." And with a wink and a side smile he evaporated into the crowd. He approached me a second time and asked me what kind of material I thought his shirt was. He beckoned for me to touch it. I think I might be a tad bit retarded because I felt his shirt and replied,
                "I dunno...cotton?" He smiled at me and winked again,
                "No. It's boyfriend material."

The fourth encounter was the most memorable because it solidified my belief: black men love braces. He was drunk and high on life, which according to a friend who witnessed the incident, broke down all of his boundaries. "Guys think a lot of the things he said to you, but they never get up the courage." He approached me and engaged me in conversation, so I asked him his name. He replied,
                 "Fabian..." but then hesitated, got into my face and said, "It's whatever you want it to be." I laughed at the line. His name is whatever I wanted it to be? What if I wanted to name him Fart? or Dicksplash? This whole naming thing made me a little uncomfortable, I had never been hit on so much in my life. And the feeling began to sink in: it's the braces. It's gotta be. As I was lost in thought Fabian approached me again."I want to attack you right  now! Grrrrrrr!"  I proceeded to tell him I was married, but he didn't care, "What's he gonna beat me up?"
                   "No."
                   "He's gonna kill me when he sees us making out?"
                   "I'm not gonna make out with you." And with that he was gone.

I am a girl that no one ever hits on. Seriously. I do not have that slamming of a body, because I rarely work out, I have recently started to take care of my skin (only recently), I don't have a foreign accent, and I think I give off the "I'm not available" vibe, because I only have eyes for my husband. But, these braces make black men notice me.

I think black men are attractive. Always have, and before I was married I would have relished this sort of attention, and yes, if I'm being honest the attention does make me feel good. But all it took was braces? Do black men really like braces? Or do black men like me with braces? Am I hotter with braces? If so, how come no one of any other race has hit on me? And why now? This is a mystery to me.

            Here is the only pic I took on my check-up. Pay no attention to Toothy. Cheer on Backy.

Just Hand Over the Pulitzer: Nasty Gigi gets Braces

Well friends, I have been a thirty two year old woman with braces for almost two weeks now. I was nervous writing about my experience at the orthodontist because of the intense pressure leading up the moment where I, Nasty Gigi, write the blog post that will eventually lead to me winning the Pulitzer.

I fell down a flight of stairs yesterday at my job (blog to follow).  Yes, Gigi fell down a flight of stairs and now my big toe is stubbed or jammed or whatever. But, on the bright side, I finally have time to write about my beautiful braces. Thank God I still have that boot from injuring my foot last year. I can't afford to call into work two days in a row.
My orthodontist's office is designed to look like the home of the Jetsons. I'm not really sure whose idea it was to design an orthodontist office like this. My feelings vacillated between soothed and disturbed by the visual metaphor. Space: the unknown, exploration...

That morning, I dropped off my husband for his surgery; he had scheduled his on the same day. What can I say? we are perfection.
I was alone with the view of smoggy Los Angeles and the overwhelming feeling of the unknown (thanks creepy orthodontist office).
The Money Lady called me in before I was about to have the metal installed in my mouth so we could talk finances and my overall teeth plan. Braces cost a fortune. I have mommy to thank for forking over the down payment on my mouth. Shout out to Mommy! But, I'm taking care of the rest. Spending money on a mouth is a big investment in vanity. As my hand went to write my signature on my the contract I was overwhelmed with the feeling. Do I

really need these stupid things? Am I vain? I can live without Toothy. And I'm sure Backy fears change anyway. I don't need a perfect mouth. Some guys like crooked teeth.

But, then I remembered that my dentist told me if I didn't get braces the right side of my teeth would age and decay at an accelerated rate, so I signed the document and the Money Lady left. A few minutes in I snapped out of my daze and glanced over to discover a replica of my former mouth. There he was. A shadow. A ghost. Oh, Toothy I thought I was done with you.

Can you see Toothy's ghost?

It was an out of body experience. There was the ghost of my former abusive boyfriend staring at me as I sat alone in Space.  "Vanity," he whispered, "vanity." It made my skin crawl. 

I was about to get up and leave, you know, call the whole thing off when the orthodontist swung open the door and explained to me what my life was going to be for the next two years.

"Two years?" As my ill-manicured eyebrows lifted in a state of shock I heard Toothy cackle at my misfortune. Out of spite I decided that I'd show Toothy that he didn't own me. I was gonna get braces whether he liked it or not. I was going to fence him out forever. 

As I lay my head back in the chair, stared at the space themed ceiling, and let this dude named Rinaldo (orthodontist assistant) have his way with my mouth I began to reminisce, trying to remember how it felt for it to be free; what it was like to have my old smile. I realized that this procedure was going to change me forever, and I said a silent goodbye.

Last picture.

Why didn't anyone tell me that they glue these things onto your teeth? YEAH! I've got glue all over them. In order for the glue to work they purposely dry out your mouth, and I don't know about you, but there is nothing worse than having a dry mouth. I've had extensive conversations with my soul mate Abra about this issue. We both agree that a moist mouth is the way to go.

After Rinaldo, or whatever his name is, was done putting the brackets into my mouth he told me to take a break and then he'd put in the wires. So, I got up from the chair and was excited to moisten my mouth when I got a glimpse of myself.

When he put the wires in he used those orange glasses as a resting table for his tools. I wish I could have taken a POV shot of that because it was the moment I realized that the people in the orthodontia field should not be referred to as doctors but mouth mechanics. As the wires tightened Rinaldo let me know that when I went home I would feel some minor discomfort, I was no longer allowed to eat chips or anything crunchy, and that I had to do the weirdest floss maintenance in order to make sure these metal babies were in tip top shape. I would like to tell you that I am doing everything that he advised. I would like to tell you that.

What I can tell you is that I was unable to eat solid food for a week because I was in so much pain and that my husband, who went through surgery on the same day, was on the couch for a week in pain as well. What can I say? we are a power couple.

Before I left, the orthodontist notified me that I would be back in a couple of weeks for them to add braces to the bottom row. Yeah, that's right, they only installed braces on the top of my mouth. At first I was like, "What?" and then I was like "oh well, more material." 

I'll leave you with my biggest revelation of this entire ordeal: having braces is like going to mouth jail and my sentence is two years.                                                                     To be continued...

First glimpse of the complete look

My new boyfriend: Backy

                    

When you lose someone you've been with for a long you tend to have a time of reflection: a time to grow, meet new people, and experience new things.

My dentist, a jolly bald man, didn't use Novocaine when he pulled out Toothy. He massaged my gums, pulled him out as he screamed to his assistant, "She's not a bleeder." This is one of the highest compliments I have received. I am not a bleeder. I am a fighter. A survivor. And then, he put old Toothy in a bag and let me hold him. It was just that simple.

 Feeling Toothy in my grasp made my heart swell with anticipation. What was my life going to be without Toothy? Losing Toothy meant that I was going to get braces. He'd been with me so long that I felt like I was losing a special part of me. Toothy added a bit of hilarity to a party. He was a sight to behold. People were always inquisitive about my deformed mouth. It was a conversation starter. He made me special. Am I on my way to be like everybody else now? Did I just buy my ticket to Dullsville.

  Maybe comfort is worth the risk of being boring. I mean, Toothy doesn't own me. I'll get another gag to share with people. It's not necessary to always entertain people by having them take notice of your deformities. Right? And now I have a new friend who's been behind Toothy all along. His name is Backy, and he's never really gotten the chance to show what he can do. Maybe Backy is the funny one and not Toothy. He's good for my mouth, unlike Toothy. 

Plus, Toothy is the reason I have to get braces. When I was fifteen he told Backy that he wasn't going anywhere; he was staying in my mouth. Now that I think about it, Toothy was such an abusive boyfriend. I overlooked all the great qualities Backy has to offer. I hope that Backy will forgive me and finally go to the front of my mouth where he belongs. I hope he doesn't take too long to forgive me. I hope he doesn't think nice guys finish last, because I'm done with Toothy for good. There's a new tooth in town and its you Backy. It's you.

 (This gif is my last lament to Toothy: Toothy gif)

Everyone! Welcome Backy! Encourage him to finally come home to the front of my mouth:

TODAY IS A NEW DAY! 

I AM A NEW WOMAN! 

IT'S GONNA BE GREAT! 

OH CRAP!

I'M GONNA GET BRACES!

STAY TUNED!

Oh, goodbye Old Toothy.

Its been a year and three controversial deleted blog posts since I've written something that can actually be seen. But, this has been brewing inside me since conception.

Today I am finally extracting my baby tooth. It has been with me for thirty two years and although I have had many opportunities to let go of Old Toothy I have not wanted to part with it. I think it might be because I'm a mouth hoarder. Who knows?

But, not wanting to break up with my long term boyfriend Toothy has been a conflict plagued with laziness and financial strife (even though I totally could have gotten taken care of three separate times for a lot less money.) It's safe to say that I never really thought that Old Toothy would have an effect on my entire smile. But, as I've been informed by my orthodontist, he has made half of the side of my smile age. He said if I didn't part with Old Toothy my teeth will continue to age rapidly and fall out. To the layman eye my teeth look perfect, but what lies beneath?

Do you see Toothy? He's at the top to your left.

My orthodontist is from Beverly Hills. His office feels like he's a plastic surgeon. He informed me that not only was my baby tooth a problem, but that I have a "gummy smile". I was a tad bit offended, because even though Old Toothy is a serial killer in my mouth, I like my "gummy smile" more than I like my orthodontist.

And, I love old toothy. He has been with me through thick and thin in sickness and in health. He has been with me through deaths, divorces, marriage, and meals from around the world. It wasn't until this happened that I knew I needed to help Toothy become more independent.  Sometimes you've just got to cut the cord.

                                   

Today is the day. I am getting my baby taken out of me and giving birth to braces on Monday. 

In the past, I have taken several horrifying pictures of my mouth, but didn't want show them until I knew that I was going to fix my monstrous infrastructure. The only people who got a look see are the little children that I have taught over the years; they thought that my tooth behind Toothy was gum.  I explained to them that I was part shark. When adults snuck a peek at the tooth behind my tooth they were immediately horrified when I cocked my head slightly to give them a better view. 

Prepare yourselves:

                           

                            

So, I'm sorry Toothy we are going to have to break up. It's not me; it's you.

XXXO

P.S. So, I am going to be Toothless Sally for the next five days. It will provide a ton of entertainment for others and another blog.