I’m really sorry to all of you who were made just sick enough that you felt the need to go to the bathroom and stick your finger down your throat merely to take yourself out of the esophogeal misery that the last set of Bubba Teeth pictures had put you in. I say, I’m sorry because, well… you might just stop reading now. But if you are like me and are just a glutton for punishment, can’t make yourself look away, have sworn to read my blog every day no matter what kind of vomitrocious offering comes out of the Lunchbox and cannot keep your fingers from scrolling down, even to your own detriment… just save yourself a trip to the bathroom, grab a barf bowl
and get comfortable there where you’re sitting. Brace yourself.
Ode to Bubba Teeth. Bubba teeth have the power to make you look like someone you really could have been had you had only well water, never a drop of flouride, brushed your teeth bi-monthly with your finger dipped into sweetened condensed milk to take the edge off of the thought that you were going to put that dirty unwashed finger into your mouth, if you sucked your big toe at night until you turned 24 and ate candy bars and coca-cola every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner, if you thought the dentist was just some guy whose parents wanted to name him Dennis but couldn’t figure out how it was really spelled. Bubba teeth help you realize how things could have been. They let you know what it feels like to be an old beat up truck named Mater. They have the distinct power to make you want to speak in a drawl that knows no real origin.
Think about that. Who wouldn’t want that kind of glimpse into the “what might have been,” who wouldn’t want that power? Who wouldn’t want to know how it feels to be Mater? Hmm?? You need a pair of bubba teeth.
This guy knows how it feels. He now feels as light as a feather. He now knows who he really is deep down. He has let go of his formerly held misguided notions about people with gnarly unkempt inciscors. He now feels free, as free as a dadgum uncaged bird. Free to let his inner dentally and orthodontically challenged individual come out.
(And just so you don’t dry heave on top of your current bubba teeth induced indigestion, these teeth were washed between uses!)
I have to say, Bubba teeth on women have a completely different effect than they do on men. They seem to bring out the witchy nature in all of us I think.
Okay, well not in this little lady. Look at that adorable mouthful of hideous teeth. Don’t you just want to shove a pack of tic-tacs down her gullet and then give her a big ol’ kiss?
Look at this beautiful little creature. This is the opposite of my third grade school picture. I had no bangs due to a “whack job” I had done on them the day before and I had very little in the way of front teeth. And believe me when I tell you that it was much scarier of a picture than this one here.
Well… I don’t know. I guess not all of us look witchy when we don a set of Bubba Teeth. Take my mom for instance. I think she still looks positively radiant. She looks happy.
My Dad on the other hand… well… is this the picture of him connecting with his inner self? I’m not so sure. If it is, it explains a lot about how I turned out.
And now we come to my spawn. Only one of them was repulsed by the idea. Only one would not succomb to the vast amount of peer pressure placed upon him to wear the Bubba Teeth. His uncle even tried humorous manipulation tactics which I found very disturbing. But the rest of them fell for it hook, line and sinker.
And this. Well. This no account varmint… this pea-pickin’ little punkster… This is my child. I have no idea where he gets his flair for the dramatic. Honestly. It must skip a generation or something.