The Reason Why I Don’t Do Drugs
True story. My mom traumatized me when I was about nine. Just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to neurosis. btw, for this story to make sense you need to know two things.
#1. My mom spoke with a severely thick Korean accent and my Catholic name “Julia” winds up sounding like “Joooddiah”
#2. My mother watched too much daytime television & movies of the week which caused her to worry needlessly.
Ahem.
“Julia, are you beautiful?”
Me in my timid meak voice “no”
“Julia, are you rich? You haba lozzo money?”
Me in my timid meak voice “no”
“Julia, are you famous? Lots of people like you?
Me in my timid meak voice “no”
“Julia, are you smaht?”
Me in my timid meak voice “mmm a little bit”
…
What followed was about a fifteen minute rant in Korean about how I should therefor never fuck with my brain since that was the only God given asset that I had and since I wasn’t an ornament, I better be mindful of my noggin. Traumatized me ever since and I’ve pretty much kept my noggin clear of injury other than booze and a little cilantro. Though I’m pretty sure I’ve been good about destroyign tons of braincells regarding booze & such.
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