You can pick your friends, and you can pick your teeth...

Dave and I went out for dinner tonight this afternoon.  We just went and did it after dropping my car off for service.  And, since we're old folks (he can now be a member of the AARP, after all), we showed up at the restaurant at about 4:00 P.M.  And, yes, we were hungry.  After a lovely meal...salad for me, pasta for Dave...we both had all kinds of stuff crammed between our teeth that seriously needed out.

So, what did we do?  We made only closed-mouth smiles to those we passed on the way out, got in the car, and retrieved our tooth pickers.  Now, here's where we differ style-wise.


Me:  "Dave, don't do it right here in the parking lot.  Wait till we're moving in traffic."

Dave:  "What?"

Me:  "Those people are eating.  They don't need to see that."

Dave:  <sighing, and likely rolling his eyes>  "You're a considerate tooth picker aren't ya?"

Me:  "Why, golly gee...yes I am!"


I beamed with pride and then quickly closed my lips as I hadn't yet had the chance to work on my teeth.

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