a terrible tradition

families are complicated. they grow more so around the holidays. there's so much pressure to have this perfect christmas. and rarely does it ever live up to expectations.

when i was in high school i wrote a poem about how disappointing holidays were. it was called "christmas mourning." it's not a terrifically clever title. but there was an anger infused between those lines. a frustration with appearances - hypocritic as they often were - to present my family to the general population as one that was close, friendly, loving.

now that i'm older i'm still having to cover up for all the dysfunction. this time, however, i was responsible for creating a falsehood, a fashioned perfection, a deceptive happiness. the kicker was that it wasn't even with my parents. they were, for the most part, on good behavior. my sister was good, too. my brother and his wife were another story. i don't really feel that it's fair to get into it here, they don't know how pissed off i was. but now i understand cover-ups better. it's become a kind of christmas tradition. something we do for the sake of others.

one day i'd like to give up this terrible tradition.

surrendering to the spirit of the season

i have this friend from high school who i see every once in a while. she lives on the other side of the country which makes spending time with her infrequent. but every second around her is some of the best times i've ever had. always has been, may i hope it always will be. recently she and her husband came to l.a. to visit family. i was lucky enough to steal some of those hours from them.

it takes so little to enjoy her company. sometimes it's hearing about all the horrid people she works with and mocks openly. or it's listening to the genuine enthusiasm she gets as she describes her latest whirlwind visit to some exotic location. often it comes from reminiscing about our mutually mischievous past. ahhhhh memories.

this time it materialized as being materialistic without the monetary means.

i took them to this shop in hollywood called soaplant/wacko, also home to the la luz de jesus gallery which features art from various local artists. it's a funky store. you can buy a wide array of good and bad crap. there are tons of art books, toys galore (tin wind-ups, plastic anime-inspired figures, plush stuffed animals, some cute, some gory, some downright odd playthings.) i ended up buying a bunch of little things for myself. cute things that are so me yet ultimately so unnecessary.

we had a discussion about christmastime and the buying of gifts. it's been said that greed and generosity are very closely related. not too sure if i consider this to be true for myself. maybe. but the balance seems to weigh more heavily towards greed with me. i walk into a store, any store, and i immediately see things that i would like as a gift, but that i usually purchase for myself. the thinking is that i like this something, and i don't know if anyone out there would be able to get this something for me. or this something might sell out, so i will get it just in case. total greed. sometimes i look around in a shop and think this would be so perfect for such and such person. but my generosity is marred by uncertainty. is it really that perfect for someone? or am i just tricking myself into believing it is because i want to get them something, anything. and then i take a long hard look at the object and a little voice inside me nitpicks at it. and if it survives the test, or if i am too lazy to put up much of a fight, i ring it up with the items i have selected for myself.

for lunch we went to yashima in west los angeles. it's a small japanese restuarant that serves up curries, rice bowls, sushi, soups. good food, large portions, happy bellies. we talked about friendships. the true ones that stay fresh, the old ones that are turning sour. sometimes it seems like such a struggle to keep the friends you have. i know there are people i take for granted in my life. it's pointless to ask their forgiveness here because i should really let them know directly. and even this holiday i haven't made the full effort needed to keep friendships going. it's horrible. what is it about me that thinks this is acceptable?

there's a complacency for sure. there's laziness. there's the feeling that other people should be half responsible for the letting go. i hold no resentments about them. but maybe this too is a disservice to friendship. i should care more. i should care about letting people go so easily. i should care and try whatever is within my power and ability to resist it. or else you end up alone, lonely, with moldy memories when there was a chance to create new ones.

so back to this friend. i still try with her. she still tries with me. there's no letting go. and because of this we built another memory. we ran around town shopping for over-priced (13 bucks?!!), cheaply-made (in china), extravagant trinkets (useless junk which nevertheless makes us happy) . we gave in to the things we coveted at giant robot. we gave into selfish spending. we gave into caring about this friendship.

perhaps it's the spirit of the season, but this time i do feel greed and generosity have found its rightful balance in me.

how not to party hop

this year my company and penquin's company both decided to have their holiday parties on the same night. again. i ended up not going to mine last year because they are usually lame. or rather, not as cool as penquin's. i regretted not going (although heard the following week that i was better off not going because it was kinda cheap and people were being seriously icky) and said that i should go the next time. as luck would have it, i got shafted. well, not really. it was just going to be tricky to make both parties.

the night before the holiday parties i went out with my department for drinks. i didn't get back home until 4:30 in the morning. so i was a little bit tired. but i wasn't hungover. so i figured i would be in good shape for the night. i'd go to my party, have a couple of drinks, mingle with the right people, make my hour and a half appearance, and then bail for penquin's. it's a good plan.

it was a good plan.

it started off right. i had dinner at around 6:30 knowing that there probably wouldn't be anything substantial to eat to act as a buffer for the alcohol i was about to consume. it was the responsible thing to do. especially since i knew penquin's party would be open bar. so i fixed myself a large bowl of angel hair pasta with eggplant parmagiana. delicioso!

my party went from 7-11. if i got there a quarter to 8 i had ample time to make the rounds and then leave as soon as the place filled up. i called "hungry" at home to confer with her a meeting time, wanting to assure the company of at least one close friend for the early hour.

i shower; slip into a lovely, plum, satin dress with spaghetti straps; throw on my black kenneth cole heels; wrap myself in a luxurious angora capelet; accessorize with my "sugar crystal" earrings and necklace. i ink on cat eyes, curl me lashes, paint my lips with a hybrid hue of ginger root velvet and jezabel. one last check in the mirror and i'm on my way.

i got to my party a little after 8. it's one of those tiny bar/restaurants on a trendy street in los feliz. it's quaint, made quainter by the lack of budget to reserve the entire space. we had the thin sliver of a bar to accommodate 75 or so people. you had to be real friendly with the people you talked to. i walked in and quickly scanned the room for my people. i'm the first one there. i expected as much. i had to get there early if i intended to party hop.

most of the crowd were from the upstairs departments. nice enough. made small talk. was informed that i would be called upon to cause trouble in the later hours. it really wasn't as bad as i thought it would be. it was semi-open bar. beer, wine, soda. at least we weren't rationed drinks this year. so i ordered a glass of red and found a seat next to the hipster kid at work. as we were talking i kept an eye out on the entrance, hoping to find a friendlier face. after a while "cat" showed up. we said hi briefly. i had to explain for the first time out of about a dozen that penquin was at his holiday party and that i would be heading out to it after a little bit of socializing. next "LK" and "prongs" showed up. and we kinda clinged around each other for a while commenting on the venue, the niceness of the semi-open bar, the co-workers we were hoping to see in a social setting, and some of the people we didn't expect to see at the party. 8:30 rolls along and still no sign of anyone from my department.

LK and i got caught in conversation with "the dame" about the wing. it was very bizarre. she seemed off-kilter or something because she kept leaning in closer and closer as we talked. which is creepy because she has this wicked witch appearance about her that i find quite unsettling. *shudder*

i head outside for a little breather. the tiny room was beginning to swelter from the people who decided to bump and grind on the dance floor. i hang out with the online people because, well, they were all there and i had no one else to turn to. after a little while MPP surprises me by magically appearing to my left. hooray! someone from my department! which means smarty must be close by, too! unfortunately smarty got caught in long conversation with "snape" and the other big honcho. so MPP and i stay clear of it. and where the hell is hungry anyways?

the majority of my evening was spent with MPP wondering if hungry and "the curse" were going to show up. MPP felt a little out of sorts surrounded by so many people that he didn't talk to or know very well. and as smarty was locked in talk with scarier people, and i was needing to make my exit, he felt like he was going to make sick. so after another glass of wine i offered him a brief out. i would take him to get his wallet, which he left at the bar the night before. and when i dropped him off, hopefully the others would be safe to shadow for the rest of the evening.

hop.

so i drive to meet penquin at the ultra swanky falcon. they have rented out the entire space for their party. and it is niiiiiiiiiiiiiice. there is an open courtyard with a bar and tables along the sides. you go upstairs and there's another bar, with more booths and sofas to lounge around on. i say hello to penquin's coworkers, the ones i've met on previous occasions. all very nice people. and penquin is pleased that he no longer has to answer the question, "where is your wife?" "isobel" is there, too with her roommate, and somewhere around the place her "sky captain" is being drunk and disorderly.

this holiday party beats mine by a long shot, and it's a lot nicer than the last one they had. i like the space. it's hip without being extravagant. but maybe on a regular night it's a different story. i can picture this place as a hoity toity joint with the beautiful people covering every inch of it. but as it was this night, it was very cool. i order a ketel and cranberry and make the rounds.

unfortunately i missed all the party prizes, which is probably just as well. i'm sure i would have been incredibly envious of the winners. i might have taken the certificates from their undeserving hands and ran off with them, laughing maniacally as i flee from the crowd. then penquin would probably shake his head in silent shame for me. turns out he'd still get his chance.

so i'm hanging around the bar with me ketel and cranberry when a group of people come by exclaiming we all have to do jager shots. um. ok. sure. why not. cheers! and i feel dizzy with delight. i chat away with isobel. she explains her dress mishap from earlier. i'm having a grand time. i consult with penquin. looks like i'm driving. i'd better slow down then. more mingling happens and i run into one of penquin's coworkers who i've had the pleasure of spending previous holiday parties near. and each of those times he has gotten shit-faced and ill. we talk about how it's been a while since the last drunken spree. we slur and drawl and rock out to the pumpkins that have started to play over the speakers. and i decide it's time for another drink. why the fuck not. it's open bar. i'm fine. i should probably get some water at some point. but at the moment let me just enjoy my drink.

i think i had a little too much fun and not enough sense that night. i remember being incredibly giddy. i may or may not have called someone on my cell phone to relay how drunk i was and how wonderful a time i was having. (and to whoever you were, if there was a you, i apologize.) at some point i lost penquin. and at some point later on i found myself making sick in the toilet. and then there were four or five glasses of water. and another trip to the toilet. and then back to the courtyard where penquin and isobel tried to see me through my misery. i couldn't move. i didn't want any more water (although i probably should have kept going with it.) i couldn't even make it back to the toilets. instead i was on my haunches, in my lovely, plum satin dress, kenneth cole heels, luxurious angora capelet, with my forehead pressed against a wall vomiting angel hair pasta, wine, ketel and cranberry, a jager shot, and another ketel and cranberry into a flower border.

disaster.

apparently i was one of the stories from the party. how sad. how utterly embarrassing. i usually don't get this ill. i usually stop myself before this kind of thing happens. and i usually try not to be such a disaster in front of penquin and his people. usually.

it took a lot of concentration and willpower not to empty myself in the car. and thank god i was able to hold myself together. i was spinning for sure. getting the alternating hot and cold flashes. if i open my eyes i will make sick on myself. dammit. not all over the dress and shoes. we got home. i hurry to the toilet. give another offering. say a little prayer. brush my teeth. and crawl into bed where i lay motionless, trying to will the world to halt long enough for me to get a decent night's rest.

this is how not to party hop.

here's where i try to make up for lost time

right. it's getting late in the year and a lot has happened since my last post. so i'm going to attempt to give you snippets (and maybe some details if i can remember them) of the closing days of 2004.

my last day of work before winter break was december 16. so naturally i had to spend some extra time hanging with the work peeps for one last hurrah (read: drunken spree) before we parted ways for the holidays. i ended up working a double shift (got in at 10 in the morning. got off work around 11pm. blech.) because my department comes in later than i do. and i wanted to make sure i got in some quality time with those that weren't going to make the christmas party the next day.

anyways, after work we decided to to go the good luck bar. it seems we always end up here for drinks. it's close by, is a decent space, and has a pretty good jukebox. that and i am so out of the cool, hip bar scene that i don't know where else to go.

"hungry hungry" and i got there first because" MPP" and "smarty" had to be complicated and drop off cars, get "ready," and then carpool together. hmph. so there we are at the front door of the good luck. and there's a sign informing us that there is a private party going on and the general public weren't allowed to grace their space until midnight. bugger. and at the tone the time will be 11:20 and 31 seconds. great. so the round of calling begins. hungry and i weren't exactly sure if the others would show up, they were being slow-footed and moody a little earlier. so we thought it might just be the two of us. so we were trying to come up with a backup plan if things fell through. luckily for us, other people from work showed up. people we hadn't exactly planned on meeting, but people we knew all the same. so we waited out the minutes until entrance time with them.

i don't know what tipped me off, but i think these other people got some pre-party time in. maybe it was the glassy eyes. or the aroma of tequila on their breath. or the slurred loud obnoxious behavior coming from the usually poised women. or perhaps it was the heightened sense of machismo which caused "knight" to want to pick fights with everyone he encountered. i dunno, i could be wrong. but these people were pissed.

midnight finally arrives and i'm about to make my way into the bar when i run into one on penquin's coworkers. we exchange pleasantries, i accuse him of being elitist, he looks down his nose at me and calls me a commoner. i'm kidding, of course. it was swell (if not surprising) to see each other in a public space without our binding link to ease the awkwardness between us. also the people from work were getting incredibly embarrassing (no doubt anxious to get more drunk and annoying.)

we walk in and take a couple of tables near the entrance. hungry and i sat with knight and "frenchy" while the other louder group sat at the table next to us. i have never gone out with these people before. and i soon discovered why. they are LAME when they are drunk. i'm sure most people get lame when they are drunk. but i wasn't drunk yet. i hadn't even had a drink. so being in any way associated with them got me on edge. i was expecting a quieter, tamer evening with just the graphics crew. we'd order a few beers, toast to the holidays, have some conversation. you know, low-key. not so. 10 minutes in and MPP and smarty still hadn't shown up. where are you guys?? help!

i drink a sidecar (which was crap) and sit staring at hungry with wide eyes. i can't believe how the other table is acting. "big k" is licking knight's face, "stage dude" is talking loudly of scoring some pot. they are using my camera to snap pictures of themselves in their revelry. knight is asking me who i want him to punch. it's all incredbily bizarre. finally MPP and smarty show up and i look at them with wild eyes that say "quick! sit down next to me or i will kill you!"

it ended up being ok. i stuck to the safe table for most of the night. when things got a little too much for me to handle (read: when they were acting up and i needed to run away) i just went to the jukebox and picked some songs to play. or went outside for some air.

a couple funny things did happen that night. like knight pinched the cheeks of some random friend of big k's. really he wanted to punch him in the face. kept asking me if i dared him to do it. but i talked him into pinching his cheeks. potential fisticuffs averted. good on me. but then i faux started a fight between MPP and "greaser clove guy" (some dude i befriended while outside.) i started talking to him because knight was trying to bite people, and i was looking for protection. GCG was kinda bigger, had tattoos, looked menacing if he wanted to be. and he asked if i needed help. i said it was alright, that i knew knight, that i worked with him, that he was just drunk so he was being an ass. but GCG stood with me just in case. joy! i made a friend i could help me fuck with other people. hooray!!!

so hungry and MPP were outside talking. GCG asked if i thought hungry needing saving from what looked like an advance from some creepy guy. i told GCG we all worked together so it was cool. but then i had a brilliant idea. i was going to play a joke on them. it went a little something like this:

GCG walks up to hungry.
GCG: is this guy (pointing at MPP) giving you any trouble?
hungry: no.
GCG: are you sure? cause he looks a little creepy.
hungry: it's fine. i know him.
MPP starts to look a little nervous
GCG: alright, you just let me know if he makes any trouble. (gives MPP a long hard look as he walks away)

GCG walks back over to me and we start talking. MPP yells over so i can hear, "she tried to get my ass kicked!" and i start laughing, saying i don't know what he's talking about. he says more about me sicking some thug on him. i tell him GCG is just a gentleman and he was making sure hungry was ok. GCG interrupts and asks me if i want him to kick the leprechaun's ass (MPP was wearing this apple green windbreaker jacket at the time). that just makes me laugh harder. and MPP continues saying how happy it would make me to see him get his ass kicked for my entertainment. hahahaha, funny shit.

we hung out at the good luck bar for maybe 2 or 3 more beers when the lights come on signaling the end of our night. or not. there's this japanese bar that stays open after hours that smarty frequents. but you've got to know the right people to get in. since we didn't really get the low-key evening we were intending to have hungry, smarty, MPP, frenchy and i head over to this place; leaving the rowdies behind.

we hung out, drank more beer, had some shumai and japanese sausages. we talked about books, christmas presents good and bad, childhood memories, mental dysfunction. it was nice. and by 4 in the morning we were ready to head for home.

you're sick, that's so cute!

it's been mentioned before. and insanamanamoo has blogged about this, too. but apparently, when you're sick, it's cute.

i've been battling a cold for a week or so. the symptoms have been slight. a little tickle in the throat. a bit of a cough. some sneezing and snottiness. nothing to be really concerned about. i feel mostly great. except i'm losing my voice.

it started on friday. it was a little hoarse, a pony, if you will. my voice got cracky and weird. but strangely it's garnered me compliments.

at work yesterday people were saying it sounded cute. (although one girl called it slutty.) that they liked it. that it was better this way. and more than one person wished that i wouldn't get all the way better so it would stay cracky and weird.

i'm not sure how to take this. i must admit that sometimes when people's voices are fucked up by colds, they do sound pretty cute. but it puts a kind of pressure on you. i want to be healthy. but then you "disappoint" people by going back to "regular" voice.

i've been drinking loads of tea with honey. and it seems to be helping. and with it will go my new-found popularity.

why can't i be you?.......in vegas

my boss, "smarty," went on a weekend vegas trip. he left thursday night and called me from a cab to tell me he was in sin city hours before he was supposed to be because he caught an earlier flight. you can hear the excitement in his voice. i was excited for him. excited and jealous (even though i went to vegas a few weeks ago.) he's a gambler. he bets the ponies most weekends. and in vegas he usually sticks to roulette and some small time games like the big wheel. i know, wtf? but this trip he was determined to roll the dice. the day before he left he was playing some online craps table (not for money) just to get a feel for the game.

friday afternoon my cell phone rings. and it's him. he's laughing, sounds like he's having a good time. tells me he's drinking a screwdriver and that he was up until 9:30 in the morning gambling. and get this, the bastard rolled for an hour and made $300 from $20 on craps. and then he played roulette where he was up $1300. $1300!!!! on roulette!! he was building a city of chips. and he was playing with $25 chips. and he said he was so drunk at the table that he was tipping the roulette guy $25. it's like it was easy fucking money. and he kept tempting me to come out and join him.

as i've said, i was in vegas a few weeks ago. and though i was up, i wasn't that far up. i have NEVER won that kind of money in vegas. i felt good on my last outing cause i actually hit the poker room and on the first night of play, which lasted only a couple hours, i had more than doubled my money. so i was up $121.50. hooray. the next day i sat in the same poker room and after 7 hours of play had only gone up $11. $11 fucking measly dollars!! granted, i had been down for a lot of that time. tight players, not getting cards, not winning big pots, just having a shit time of it really. and i was determined not to leave the table down. but after investing all that time to only be up $11 is incredibly disheartening. meanwhile my friend is playing stupid roulette and hitting pretty much every single time he's there -- on my numbers!!! i know i should have sat down with him and bet , ok, OUR, numbers but i just didn't. for whatever bogus dumbass reason i didn't. instead i was taunted cruelly by my number superstitions. fucking 23. why do i love you so much?

it's never fun to see people make money so easily. even if they are your friends. i mean, i'm happy for them, but tell me, why can't i be YOU?....... in vegas.

the kids are alright

in the early 90s i went to a performing arts high school in west los angeles. i used to hate it. 10th grade was miserable. i hung out with the same small crew of friends from junior high. and everyday we would sit and bitch about how boring and lame the rest of the student body were. with a mocking venom in my voice i referred to hami as something approaching "fame" complete with kids crooning down the crowded halls and girls practicing their pouts as they perform pirouettes and plies in front of their precious mirrors. just lamer. i guess i had a lot of superiority issues back then.

but i see now why i felt like that. the junior high friends i spent my time with weren't in the performing arts school. they were in the humanities school. and so we never even had classes with each other. we were held together by weak bonds - our former connections, our otherness, and our knack for making fun of others for their otherness. and really i wasn't very close to these people. there was really only one person's company i enjoyed, and it was that of the "dudeness monster." so when the dudeness monster bailed out on me and went to another school i was left to form new friendships.

i was in a performing arts school. i liked to sing. i should get more involved. so i tried out for some of the choral groups and got in. and so slowly school became bearable. i found that not everyone in those groups were divas or show kids who thought they were god's gift to the arts. don't get me wrong, there were plenty of those types around. there were also plenty of talentless people who seemed to get top roles in everything because their families were affiliated with the school or their mothers volunteered there. these were the kids i continued to mock. but there were also the lovely quirky people, the people with enormous talent that knew it was cooler to be modest than showy. and these were the kids i connected with, and continue to connect with. and so school became fun.

i sang soprano with the concert choir, added my voice to the a capella madrigals group, and even performed in a couple of the musicals. and i gotta be honest, there's something terribly thrilling about hearing your voice dance and mingle with those of other people, creating moods with swelling sounds, telling tales with lines of lyric. music is indeed a magical language.

so now i have a romantic fondness for my high school and the many talented people and gifted performances to have graced the stage of its auditorium. i feel fortunate to have been part of its musical tradition. so when my friend, "bard," asked if i wanted to see the musical "On the Town" at my old school, i was more than happy to come along.

i've bragged to him about how professional some of the productions are; from the kids on stage, to the costumes and sets, the lighting, even the music. penquin, who has seen a couple productions there when we were dating and my sister was a student there, agreed that hami shows are a cut above most high school shows. so friday night the three of us went to see "On the Town."

it was strange being back on the campus. some new buildings have sprouted up in the parking lot. the auditorium now has a concession stand. but for the most part it's the same school i spent my youth in. apparently, it's also the same school that i can spend my adulthood in because, while i was waiting for the show to start, i was asked by a faculty volunteer if i was there for the student rush tickets. hahahhaha awesome.

so we're in the theater now. it's not quite full. there are plenty of annoying girls to get my hateration started. i am reminded of how much i don't like teens. i'm trying to avoid seeing my smelly teacher (i don't think he recognized or remembered me, but i was playing it safe.) yet i am hypocritically immature with bard as we make fun of unsuspecting elderly women, the "diab sister," the queer boys, and best of all the ill-abbreviated titles in the program - Ass. Production Manager, Ass. Wig Manager, Ass. Lighting Designer! what was the Ass. Program Editor thinking??!!!

finally the lights go down and the orchestra, after tuning for what seemed like 20 minutes, start the overture. and instantly i am worried. the horns and strings are stumbling to find the right notes, despite all the warming up. i turn to bard and we begin to crack up. and i think, "dear lord, please let it not be like this the whole way through or i will surely lose it." the curtain parts and there's this skinny black kid lowing in his not quite polished bass voice. it's not horrible, but it's certainly not quieting the murmuring anixety which suggests my attendance here tonight is a huge mistake.

happily, that feeling didn't last because these kids were good. some of them were even great. "On the Town" isn't really my kind of musical. the story is weak, there's a lot more dancing than singing, but the kids in this production helped me forget about my biases and actually enjoy it. one of the lead guys reminded me of my friend, gideon, who was always one of the leads in our musicals. so that was a nice little throwback to yesteryear. (although, gideon, wherever you are, you were much better.) there were a lot of strong performers. the girls were all quite good, the girl playing "hildy" exceptional. even some of the smaller characters were outstanding. and usually when i think of a song and dance musical there's the worry that the talent won't hold up to both parts equally. sometimes they are stronger dancers than singers or vice versa. but i found that most of the cast could pull it all together.

i felt a kind of pride for these kids, a pride in this school that cultivates this kind of talent. and when the show was over we applauded our appreciation in loud rhythmic bursts.

it may not have been me and my friends up there on stage, but the kids are alright.

tell it to the teeth

of the few dreams i remember i tend to have a lot of teeth dreams. last night was another in the continuing saga. i was looking into the mirror when i noticed that there was something in between my teeth. thread. lots of it. at the gumline. and so i pulled it out and it kept on coming like i was spinning it from my mouth. then i would move on to some other section and pull out more thread. but the thread looked like packets of ramen noodles. like those bricks. but smaller. and instead of ramen it looked like uncooked rice noodles. and it all seemed so real because i do recall spitting a pool of saliva out into my hand during the dream. i know, kinda gross.

i should do some research on the interweb to find out what this might mean.

ok, here's some stuff.

from http://www.newagedirectory.com/dream/dictionary.htm:

teeth - Falling out: Loss of control over certain aspects of one's life. Powerlessness, unable to influence things or the outcome of things important. Loss of self-esteem in a situation or a chronic problem.



from http://www.sleeps.com/dictionary/ttt.html:

Teeth {Most req. word}
Teeth was the most requested dream word of all so here goes... If you dream of having false teeth this indicates that you will have unexpected help on a problem. To dream of rotten teeth shows that you have been telling someone a lie or using your smooth words for getting your own way no matter what. If your teeth are rotten, crooked, and/or falling out this means that your lies are hurting someone very badly and that you will soon be found out. If you dream you have swallowed a tooth you will soon have too 'eat your words'. It becomes much easier to interpret this kind of dream if you think of teeth as representing words. When the dreamer is not the one with the bad teeth you will naturally have to watch out for someone lying to you.



from http://www.dreammoods.com/dreamdictionary/t.htm:

To dream that you have rotten or decaying teeth, forewarns that your health and/or business is in jeopardy. You may have uttered some false or foul words and those words are coming back to haunt you.
To dream that you are brushing your teeth, signifies your level of confidence, struggles and aggressiveness. You need to look out for yourself and your own interest.



from http://www.findyourfate.com/dreams/t.htm:

Dreams of teeth are generally assumed to have sexual significance.If the dream teeth stand for sexual potency, then they also symbolize aggressive tendencies. Teeth which fall out can be seen as a symbol of general loss of potency.


*****

so really it could mean a variety of things. i may be feeling powerless over some important situation. i am a liar. and i'm spinnig lies out of my mouth like a loom. or something having to do with sexual potency.


but what about the noodles? or floss?

i don't think this has helped me much. instead i feel self-conscious for having teeth dreams a lot. cause it seems like they make me a bad person.

stupid dream analysis.

tell it to the teeth.