Forget waterboarding. I propose that the way to make terrorists talk is to submit them to an eye exam. First, you rest your chin on a little plastic tray and your forehead on a metal beam. Then the examiner sits 6 inches in front of you and tells you to relax; he will now perform the air puff test. At this point, my eye balls immediately dry out and my eye lids start twitching in uncomfortable anticipation. I am frozen in a permanent wince as I wait, and wait, and wait.... and then, "Pttthhht!" The sudden unpleasant puff of air makes me jump in my chair. Although I knew it was coming, it still surprises and bothers me every time. I wonder how the doctor can keep a straight face when performing this test. He might as well just stand behind the door to the exam room and jump out, yelling, "Boo!" as you walk in. It's the same thing.
Next, you sit behind a machine housing a series of lenses, which he moves to place in front of your face. Again, he sits mere inches away as he looks into my eyes with an annoying tiny light. "Just look straight ahead." Yes, of course. This is the most natural thing in the world. I'll look straight ahead as if I don't see you. At this point during my exam today, I had the most alarming urge to laugh. I actually had to hold my breath in order to keep myself from bursting out in uncomfortable giggles.
Someone I know actually did this during a breast exam. It was at a free clinic, and there were several exam stations, each separated by only a curtain. As the nurse started feeling her up, she suppressed a small giggle. But as the nurse's fingers continued their poking and prodding (and unintentional tickling), the urge to laugh became stronger and stronger until she let out an extremely loud and involuntary, "Paaaaaaaah!"
My name is Chinese, but my hair is red. When I was young, the worst thing you could call me was a redhead. It was "golden," thank you very much. I am a full-time mama to the punk and the basher. I am a violinist with Strings of Elegance, a private piano teacher and math tutor, and an Assistant Director for The Gifted Music School. My violin and piano were both made in 1910, and I inherited both from different grandparents. I have an outie belly button. My man looks hot in his "old man" hats. I enjoy sushi, hot tubbing, and getting caught in the rain.