Jeff does not have poor dental hygiene habits, but for some reason, his breath is frequently repugnant to me. We had a discussion about this yesterday, during which he refused to change toothpastes, saying that the problem is on my end — my olfactory senses are just too heightened. (He also denies that this is a mutation, though I think heightened sense of smell, particularly in relation to breath, is pretty awful, like having untouchable skin.) Anyway, he’s probably right, I probably am too sensitive; Greg’s breath always seems foul to me, too.
Why do I discuss my husband’s breath in my Xanga? Because he told me to, and I am ever the dutiful wife. Actually, he told me to relate the following conversation, which had to be prefaced with the breath information.
Getting into bed last night, exchanging a goodnight kiss…
Lisa: “Your breath smells again. I think it’s too much orange juice.”
[Jeff does drink a whole gallon of orange juice a week, even having a glass with chips and salsa or macaroni and cheese. Gag.]
Jeff: “But I just drank cran-apple juice.”
Lisa: “Oh, then your breath smells like vitamin C.”
The End
It was a lot funnier last night, when I said it without missing a beat. Jeff laughed a lot.
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Happy Halloween!
While we ate dinner last night, we watched America’s Funniest Home Videos. It was the Halloween episode, so they mostly featured clips of people in costumes jumping out and scaring other people. How strange is it that we have a huge holiday based solely on some weird desire to mess with people?
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