I got home from Saranac very late last night and knew I had to brush my teeth with the contest tube. I had a master plan worked out that I would slice the sucker open with a razor blade and dig around inside for the spare paste. Before I got the chance, the many cracks in the tube gave way to my mighty squeeze and the thing split open on its own anyway.
There was not a breath of toothpaste inside. Corey had defeated me soundly; we had consumed all of the toothpaste in the tube and thus reduced our waste. I had mixed feelings about the ordeal.
I hate losing, but we went 3-1 at Saranac so was it really a lost weekend? Corey also freaked out about my idea to open the tube. He says that the whole point of the game was to squeeze out the toothpaste, but that was not mentioned in the original parameters. I don't even know why we argued about it because it was so moot. He's scared about what I'll think of for the rematch I think.
In other news, I got the body fat down one percent. Perhaps playing 160 minutes of rugby in the front row over a weekend will do that to a girl. But one percent seems like an awfully small dent in a very big mountain of fat I want to whittle away. This is going to take much longer than the toothpaste game.