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[personal profile] weaktwos
Okay, okay. I'll do it two too.

Ask me any three questions, and I shall answer thee thy questions three.

C'mon, hit me!

Date: 2004-04-16 02:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] annessence.livejournal.com
Tell me about one of your great loves, be it animal, vegetable, or mineral.

Will you tell me a memory you have, in such great detail, I feel like I was there?

When you were a little girl, what did you want to be when you grew up?

Date: 2004-04-16 11:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] weaktwos.livejournal.com
One of my great loves? Knowledge.

A memory I have:
Why I love Valium and Laughing Gas
I was 16, and the wisdom teeth had to go. The dentist gave me a Valium to take prior to the surgery. I took the happy pill. From then on, my memory involves a lot of floating. I was lighter than I ever remember being. Familiar objects in my house floated past me, and I was without care. I was taking long walks through short spaces.

I don't remember the car ride. Perhaps I dozed. Perhaps my sense of time was hastened by my newfound happy haze.

Sunlight. I was getting out of the car and walking up the sidewalk, silly with anticipation. My mother was by my side, amused at my dentist-sanctioned lofty attitude.

The Dentist's office was like any other. The waiting room. Expectant people lacking in enthusiasm. Magazines like Hightlights, Time, Newsweek adorned the tables. The walls covered with vapid artwork or informative mouth information.

I was in. On the chair. Not a care. It was time to put me under. Oh yes, I looked forward to missing the whole experience. Here comes the needle. I hate needles. I really hate needles. My inner Valium didn't give a shit, however. Look at that! They are poking the needle in my left inner elbow. My veins have deftly dodged the needle. Fancy that! Now the other inner-elbow. Poke-root-root. Nope. No vein-love there, either. The left hand. Pokety-pokety. If I were de-valiumed, I'd be so miserable. Time for the right hand. Nope! I have a lovely parting gift for you, Doc! It's called Anasthesia: The Home Game. Thank you for playing, asshole!

Then the Nitrous Oxide mask came. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

Wahoo! Open my mouth! Noooo problem! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

And couldn't feel a thing. I'm sure novicaine was involved, but who was counting, I wasn't. I felt nothing, but I hard it all. Crunch, I heard the teeth of wisdom cracking. I heard scraping sounds. How cool, I thought. My mouth was wide open, my gums slit open and I could care less! Yee haw!

And the rest is history.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a surgeon after my mother let me help her disect a pig.

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