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When I had my wisdom teeth yanked, it was the best time I've EVER had in a dentists office. All four of them were impacted, all four growing horizontally towards the front of my mouth, not even breaking the gums. The one on my top right was slowly cracking the tooth next to it... every month or two, I'd spit out a small chunk of the tooth. I waited for 2 years before getting it done, just popped ALOT of Aleve (asprin). They had to drill each of the teeth into small pieces, and then pick out the pieces individually... But I didn't feel a damn thing. They gave me 5 minutes of oxygen enriched air, then 5 minutes of Nitrous (I was laughing like a mofo!), then knocked my ass out with some interveinous drug... Next thing I know, they're pushing me out the back door of the surgeons building where my buddy was waiting to drive me home, blood running down my chin with a blood soaked paper-towell catching the drops, stumbling all over the place, and there's 3 guys out behind this building doing groundskeeping, trimming the hedges and shit. They look up to see my bloody stumbling ass come out of the building, the look on their face was a Kodak moment, like "what kind of fucking building IS this?!"
Gave me some percodan, and aside from having to live on cottage cheese and ice cream for the next week and a half, I felt really good.
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