The details of my life are quite inconsequential… very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.

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Cake day: June 30th, 2023

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  • Roll me into operating room. Think it was an IV drip, I was pretty scared. They are nice and talking to me about random stuff. They let me.knownthey are going to give me something to put me out. I feel a nice little high for a second. They ask me one more question and… Boom I’m in recovery talking gibberish to a nice lady telling her I miss my wife. No pain yet, but I felt physically uncomfortable. I could tell someone had been digging around in my guts. Was so happy to see my wife when she came in. They said I took a while to regain consciousness. I guess they wanted me fully coherent before letting her see me. Anyway, the whole going under was easy. Felt like… Nothing.

    The pain meds, that sucked. I thought I could just stop talking them once I felt like the pain was gone. Whoa, it felt scary. Like a hallucination without seeing anything. I cut them in half and slowly backed off.


  • American here. Lived in California most of my life just outside LA in suburbs. Ventura as well. Lived in Tennessee for 2 years and Idaho 2. I’ve seen people open carry a few times. I own a gun and I’ve never seen or heard a gun fired outside of a gun range. I’m 40 btw. It’s not that bad here. It’s big and there are a lot of people so the news has tons of opportunities to present the worst of humanity which makes up a small percentage.