This is going to sound like the beginning to a bad stand-up routine (and hell, I just may write it up as one, eventually), but nonetheless, I feel compelled to tell you that I have floss stuck in my teeth. Like seriously stuck — an octopus of shredded nylon tentacles wedged firmly behind the metal bridge on my upper incisors. I’ve tried every which way to get them out: toothpicks, water piks, guitar picks, nose picks, Pixie Stix, chick flicks, Taylor Hicks, Stevie Nicks, the River Styx, the New York Knicks — seriously, everything — but nothing’s worked. I even tried flossing again, but that just made it worse.
Also, in the spirit of full disclosure, I feel I should tell you that I have no ending for this bit; I just wanted to point out the predicaments I tend to get myself into when attempting a modicum of basic hygiene. Thanks mom.