So, I'm sitting here, bored, bored, bored. And being that we're such good friends I just knew you would be dying to hear about it. The mortuary down the street has been doing back to back cremations, so I have been enjoying the smell and ash that floats down here to my little piece of Hell. As if this place could be any more dismal. The only satisfaction I get is when people coming out hear me blasting TSOL Code Blue. You know," I wanna fuck the the dead." It's petty but I never said I was perfect, or did I? Whatever. I don't really wanna fuck the dead, it's just a good ice breaker.
I just got through tossing out the psych meds I got prescribed last week. What a fucking waste of time! Instead of giving me Benzos like a normal Psychiatrist, the bitch put me on some ancient anti-depressants from the 60's. I know amitriptlyn sounds like fun, but guess again. For the first couple of days I felt like I had a colossal hangover and on the third day I made the genius decision to mix it with Jim Beam. Having achieved stellar results before when mixing prescription drugs and alcohol I never though twice. Big mistake! In less than an hour I was twitching like a puppet on strings. The only thing I can compare it to is taking Seroquel w/out heroin to balance it out. Funny huh, balancing out an anti-psychotic with opiates.
Well anyway, it took about 8 hours of arm/leg jerking hell before it wore off. Ugh, I get cold sweats just thinking about it, way too close to kicking for my liking. It's funny how I never worry about kicking until it's too late. Like in the back of a cop car too late. It's at that moment that it hits me. I don't care if I just did the fattest shot, the second those cuffs go on I start to get sick. It's like cop car cooties just drain the dope right out of me. The mind is a powerful thing, now if I could just figure out how to do it in reverse and get loaded at will my world would be complete. I'll just have to settle for my weekly deliveries from my Internet friend, my new best friend.
Ah, I digress. Back to those stupid meds. After spending hours in the psych's office doing my best anxiety Annie impression all I get are shitty anti-depressants? Oh and relaxation tape therapy. Fuck ! If I wanted to listen to that crap I could do it in the privacy of my own home, on my stereo. My Cd player can't prescribe me drugs, more's the pity, that's what I pay those assholes for. It's a thoroughly disgusting situation. I am thoroughly disgusted. I go back on Tuesday.