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I am going to the dentist tomorrow. Hold me.
In spite of having a smoking hot dentist (and how many people can say that?), I am greatly afeared of people sticking sharp objects in my mouth. I blame my parents, who let me watch The Marathon Man when I was a wee child, thus ensuring that my first visit to the dental torture chamber was a laugh riot of tears, screams, and hyperventilation.
Kidding. Sort of.
I will now obsessively brush my teeth 3 or 4 more times before tomorrow morning.
They have to make a pill for this.
