UPDATE

Here I am! Were you worried I was dead because it’s been a month since I’ve posted? No? Well, then fuck you. You should have been HYSTERICAL like I was a few weeks ago when my sister stopped answering her cell phone for 45 minutes and I was convinced she was dead or kidnapped or trapped in a stairwell at work with a broken ankle. I was planning my plea on the evening news, mentally designing fliers and rehearsing my phone call to the police to make sure it was good enough to convince them I didn’t need to wait until she was missing for 24 hours because 45 MINUTES IS LONG ENOUGH. I called her cell phone 14 times, she informed me later, when I reached her by calling her boss who let me know she was safe because she was sitting in her office doing her annual review. SORRY ABOUT THAT, JENNIFER. I hope she gave you a raise because you have to put up with your anxiety-stricken little sister who needs a new wife to control her hysteria and ease your burden.

I think I didn’t follow up on the miracle of antidepressants. As it turns out, THEY ARE DELICIOUS. Tiny little miracles. I’m not quite 100% of myself, but I’m slowly getting there. Except I forgot to take mine today and we’re probably all going to die.  But here are some fun things to take note of regarding my crazy stoppers.   1) I’m taking a medication that, in addition to treating depression, is also used to treat premature ejaculation and post-stroke pathological crying, otherwise known as EMOTIONAL INCONTINENCE.  I shit you not.  I could not make this up if I tried.  I feel certain my doctor picked this particular medication because I said I’d been crying all the time and she thought – NOT ON MY WATCH YOU WON’T – so she gave me something that would make it impossible for me to cry, ever.  I’ve turned into Janie, is pretty much what I’m saying here.  The super good news, however, is that I stopped premature ejaculating everywhere, which is awesome because, man, WHAT A MESS. 2) My medication makes me dream what I can only describe at complete and total insanity.  It started easily enough, with awesome rage dreams of yelling at anyone who has ever hurt me or my family.   I woke up every morning feeling like I’d just processed the hell out of one relationship or another.  Then things got intense and weird and suddenly the Indigo Girls were paying a concert at my staff meetings and Bruno Mars was feeding me a Subway sandwich and Janie started dating someone I didn’t like and consequently became a drug addict.  There was also that one where I was staying at Cloris Leachman’s house except she lived not in a house but in a giant dresser and I had to sleep in the bottom drawer.

I also decided to go see a neurologist about my headaches because I’d been getting them for weeks at a time.  It was either stress or a stroke, I was thinking to myself as my left side went numb and I started speaking Russian for no explicable reason.  The neurologist at the place I’m forced to go, because my insurance is the worst imaginable insurance that exists in the world not counting most places because THIS IS MY MIDDLE CLASS, FIRST WORLD PROBLEM RIGHT HERE, did about two seconds of testing by waving his finger wildly around and telling me to follow it with my eyes.   He went so fast I got nervous and started to believe I might have a optic nerve tumor because my eyes weren’t working fast enough to follow the gang signs he was making in front of me (he’s a Crip).  Then he prescribed me two separate medications.  One of them, for use only when I have a headache coming on, might interact poorly with my anti-depressant by putting me on SEROTONIN OVERLOAD which sounds awesome until you know it means I’ll probably lose my fine motor skills.  WHEE!  The other medication, used to prevent migraines, is one I’m supposed to take daily and was originally created to treat epilepsy.  So you guys, I’m treating emotional incontinence, premature ejaculation, migraines, depression and seizures all with the help of three pills.  The most exciting thing, however, is that the preventative medication has a side effect of helping with weight loss.  So I’ve been taking five times the regular dose every day and I feel FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

In other news, Janie had decided she was going to move out of the condo and in with her parents in June and I was going to get a roommate, but then she remembered that living with her parents means LIVING WITH HER PARENTS and so she decided to stay because why live with your parents when you can live with your ex-wife?  This will prove to be incredibly exciting when we make the leap to dating other people and bring them home because HEY COME OVER AND MEET MY EX-WIFE which, I don’t know, still seems sexier and more promising than COME OVER AND MEET MY PARENTS.  I’ll keep you updated on how awesome that works out for us.

We both re-activated our OK Cupid accounts, which is fun (if fun means awkward and sort of depressing).  Earlier in the year we met different people at the same time, neither of which lived in Seattle.  Her friend was in Portland and mine in Atlanta, which works out really well not at all.  Anyhow, Janie’s lady friend started dating someone else and then I went to Atlanta, had some fun and then apparently went so fucking retarded that my friend can’t even speak to me anymore.  It’s like I keep living the same situations over and over again,  except this time I didn’t end up feeling like I should just die already.  So that’s improvement.

Last week I had a meeting with a new friend from OK Cupid (I’m talking about you, Kim!) who is awesome and funny and a writer and, best of all, she laughs at my jokes.  I try not to hold her unfortunate taste in socks and mobile devices against her.  I’m hoping that her writerly influence will inspire me to get busy and churn out more low-quality entertainment.  If it doesn’t and that makes anyone out there upset, send me an email and I’ll give you her phone number, address and email so you can let her know directly.

In closing, last night I threw a balled up wet paper towel at Janie and, in retaliation, she hit me in the face with one of the pet beds and I laughed so hard I peed my pants.

Amen.

4 Comments

  1. July 26, 2011

    Thank you for coming back and posting something.I knew you weren’t dead bc I see you on fb but still enjoy your profound thoughts and stories (ramblings) here. It DID make me LAUGH and love you a bit more than I already do from our couple of hours in a couple of days together when you were here. I know we were in another (or 50) life together because god told me last night on my mirror, in red lipstck.

    Well, talk to you later and hope your new elephant is the best pet ever.

    Beth

  2. July 26, 2011

    For the record, my socks are far superior to yours. Do yours have kiwis on them? No? I close my case.

    Also, you don’t have my address. Neener neener.

  3. jodi
    August 14, 2011

    okay. I want you to know that I was reading this so avidly that I think my kid got stabbed and I told him to wait just a sec and go watch some TV for a minute but don’t drip blood on my bedspread. I hope that makes you feel pretty good. Also I need that pre ejaculation medication…for a friend…..not me or anyone I’m married to.

  4. Joseph
    September 25, 2011

    I like the humor you placed in your story. I am glad all symptoms are lessening with the help of those three pills. That was a fun time with Janie. I was never too happy that I wet my pants. I hope you continue to feel better and continue posting your progress.
    .-= Joseph´s last blog ..online dating book =-.

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