Hey Mom, sorry about that outrageous phone bill...

There are very few things I can be proud of about my looks. I will be the first to admit that it’s my sister who got the better genes (hence her long, silky hair and the haystack adorning my head), and my mom at my age managed to pull “chubby” off in a cute way instead of looking like a nearly 21 year old oompa loompa with a porcupine on her head.

People can complain about the reekingly bad odor emanating from each of my pores, the thick trunks comprising my legs, and the barrel stuck in between where my legs end and where my neck begins. However, they could never find any fault with my white teeth. Mostly these compliments came from Hungarians. This did not surprise me too much, because I mean, look:

Hungarians living in Hungary don't even have teeth. Smiling with teeth (and having them) is a strictly American trend started by Julia Roberts and Jessica Simpson, who generated the myth that unless you're smiling to the point where your face muscles will rip, your cheeks will dislocate, and your ears will migrate to the back of your head, you're just not worthy of recognition. I mean, look. It looks like I go home at night and pinch my face back with clothespins in order to attain maximum smiling flexibility.

It looks like I'm in danger of throwing my neck out when I smile.

In any case, keeping my pearly whites gleaming initially were not due to my own devices. In elementary school my mother, sister, and I were blessed with a fellow Hungarian dentist in town who would insist on seeing all three of us frequently in order to see just how badly the paprika and gulyas were corroding our teeth. I would go there once a month and my teeth would be petted, plumped, and plushed to where someone talking to me could see his reflection in my front teeth, which grew to the size of a horse's. During this time, it wasn't even necessary to brush my teeth at night because I knew Dr. Minye would take care of all of this for me the next day.

During this time I learned to love going to the dentist. I didn't particularly like the dentist, because he always gave me a slight case of the shivers, but there was always unconditional pampering at the dentist.

Then dentist Dr. Minye moved to San Diego. And from then on each member of the Gyorfi family were screwed.

The American system of dealing with teeth was completely alien to me. What? Going to the dentist ONLY TWICE A YEAR? Who would floss for me? Who would be my spiritual leader in dental work? This meant I actually had to learn how to brush my teeth and floss, and it was then that I realized it was a cruel, harsh world without a Hungarian dentist to take care of my smile.

We went through the cycle of Mentadent double squeegie toothpaste, sparkly Aquadent, minty Crest toothpaste, etc, and so on, and so forth, but finally found our saving grace with Listerine. This potent brew in a plastic bottle basically guaranteed it right there on the bottle in bold letters that there was hope for someone who had nothing going for her except for teeth the size of elephants and ears that sat against her head instead of flapped in the wind, and we henceforth adopted Listerine as the 5th member of our family (the dog being the 4th).

Listerine-ing became of favorite pasttime of mine. Saturday afternoon, got nothing to do? Listerine! Have lots of math homework you can't do? Listerine! Need to take out the trash? Listerine! My threshold level for Listerine reached unattainable heights until soon I was substituting Listerine with water. I basically bathed in the stuff.

I came to Italy armed with several bottles of Listerine, which I made last until the very beginning of August by carefully rationing the last drops remaining in the last bottle, and by keeping a mouthful of Listerine in my mouth for days at a time. In Spain I was lucky enough to find a store stocked with only one variety of Listerine, but it was still there! And now I've returned to Italy. Where there is no Listerine to be had.

I am a nervous wreck.

My consumption of coffee has grown significantly, and my Listerining days are over until someone takes pity on me and sends me a truckload. I've considered a variety of methods to keep my teeth shining, and this morning I considered plastering the Orbit whitening gum onto my teeth for half an hour to see if it would sort of act like Listerine whitening rinse, or like Crest Whitening Strips. And it's not only the whitening, cleaning power I miss about Listerine. It's also the minty-ness. I bought a small box of "extra strong" tic-tacs, and it's 6 tic-tacs simultaneously that can provide the mint I crave.

I bought some loser Plax brand mouthwash here with a flavor labelled as "soft mint." WHO THE HELL WANTS "SOFT MINT?" Even though it no longer has the same effect on me due to my continous use, at least Listerine was STRONG in the beginning. It had enough power to blow away an army, make an onion cry, and whither bacteria by just being openend. I think "flammable" should have been written somewhere on the bottle.

So if anyone has any compassion for me at all (meaning, my sister, who is sending something already) he/she would send me at least a SMALL bottle of Listerine. Something that I could use at least once every other day, and just content myself the rest of the time with smelling when I have the urge to experience some of that minty goodness.

Plax. The brand for LOSERS.

Bruce, I didn't know that Pulis are waterproof. They're hair is like wool, though, which is relatively hard to get wet. That might be the answer? I'm not too sure.

And if you want to keep up with any pictures I might be taking, take a look at my picasa web album pictures, whose link is now adorning my sidebar, and can be found here.