The Most Outlandish Tale About Anxiety and Depression Ever Told

 Wait wait, the story doesn’t start here!  This is a blog hop, people!High Anxiety Blog Hop
Click HERE to start from the beginning.

 

 

I stepped closer. “Whoa! Is that what I think it is?!”

The Cretin Brothers took a step back. Disbelief shown on their ugly faces. Reaching around in the purse my hand found my lipstick tube. I flicked it open and pepper spray hit both of the ugly Midnight Movers.
“Ooops”  I said.

My heart thudded as the immediate arresting thoughts slammed me:

  1. I’d forgotten to re-stock the Xanax in this purse
  2. The phone number for 911 had completely escaped my mind
  3. That tube of lipstick had better not be lost. Revlon discontinued that shade
  4. The portable charger was easy to find in my bag
  5. We’re gonna need a bigger boat

As the ugly stick kids gagged and wiped at their eyes I hobbled over to the item they’d dropped. Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes. Bending down I grabbed the extension cord and plugged it into the charger. In an utterly selfless act I aimed the rounded end of the object towards Tall Guy’s tuchus. With a mighty push on the wheels a glow and hum began to emanate from the missile shaped package. They suddenly understood. Mascara running down his cheeks, Tall reached down to grab his ankles.

Short dark and ugly stood by and watched as the A-Bomb shot directly towards his comrade’s backside “Oh dear Gods! It’s a giant…..

Click HERE to continue the story!

 

2013: Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Happy New Year 2014

Welcome to the YoYo-Dyne 2013 Year in Review!

Is THIS your kitten?!

Cute Kitty picture

New Year’s Eve. A hot Little Black Dress, 8″ Steve Madden stilettos, my Silver Fox coat, a Vintage 1950’s clutch purse and Call-Girl-Red lipstick.
If this doesn’t impress the cat tonight nothing will.

Here are a few of my favorite things from 2013. A collection of Miss R’s best Tweets, original images, stolen images, a cute kitty and the naughty bits too.

Have a healthy happy New Year and remember: Everything happens for a reason. For instance, if you’re on fire it’s because I don’t like you

Miss R Tweets for You!

  • Does the five second rule apply to my dignity?
  • If you suffer a strange pain today just remember that thousands of people die from that every year
  • Do I have to water this poinsettia or will it die on it’s own?
  • I’m sorry I wore your baby as a hat
  • The “Mayday” button on the new Kindle Fire should be renamed the “Let me show you my Ass” button. That’s all I’ll use it for.
  • I like to live each day as thought it’s my last. This explains having no clean laundry and the unmade bed
  • Ex-husband Number One is now available on Aisle Two
  • Gravity has had it’s way with me. At least something has
  • Stop playing the victim. It’s not even a real instrument
  • You’re never too old to throw random shit in other’s shopping carts while they’re not looking
  • A Happy Spanksgiving to you all!
  • I’m in serious trouble if people find out I don’t really have Tourette’s
  • Sure, he’s just the pizza delivery guy. With chloroform and some quality time in the basement he’s the one
  • My phone just changed ‘calendar’ to ‘cake radar’ and now I really wish I had that
  • I like you, but not “I’ll let you out of the basement” like you.
This is The Demon Seed. My daughter as a junior in college looks just like I did as a junior in college.   We talk about her grad school choices, watch Doctor Who specials together, fight over the Fall Out Boy knee socks and worry about our white girl problems

This is The Demon Seed. 
We talk about her grad school choices, watch Doctor Who specials together, fight over the Fall Out Boy knee socks and worry about our white girl problems

I had my heart crushed into the bitter coffee of a Starbucks machiatto

I had my heart crushed into the bitter grounds of a Caramel Betrayal Macchiato

Found some really funny people on the Internet. Funny ha ha. the funny strange people are reading this post.

Found some really funny people on the Internet. Found some really strange people on the Internet.

Got sick of people confusing Bi-Polar with psychopath, bugfuck crazy, too lazy to ‘just be happy’ and/or sad just to make you angry. Eric at Black Box Warnings chose me to contribute a guest post on Bi-Polar disorder. Got a new therapist and a new sponsor this year.

Spent a rainy radical week in the Nevada desert for 4th of Juplaya and attended the work parties in preparation of Burning Man. Missed one work weekend to recover from completely unexpected gallbladder surgery… I can now eat any damned thing I like because the gallbladder is GONE.

Things got weird a few days before my yearly foray to Black Rock City in August. Had everything planned to spend the week before The Burn with my daughter and bestie Spankers setting up our theme camp. Then Burning Man itself. My yearly vacation to Magic, Family, Music, Art, Insanity, Bliss and Gratitude. Home.

Instead I spent the Burn in a hospital bed, paralyzed below the waist. Good times.
Today I exercise and stretch to keep those body parts in good working order. You never know when Tall Dark and Hebrew may come knocking on your door. WASP is good too.

Tomorrow is a new year. It doesn’t mean a new start but it implies a shove of momentum to me. We just won’t wake up tomorrow shiny and thin and rich.
Well you won’t but I still hold out hope.

Life is still funny. I’m still funny. The milk smells funny but there’s a cure for that. So I leave you with a tune and a wicked grin
Cheers to friends. Cheers to Life. Cheers for Tears…

Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives… and to the “good life”, whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.
-Hunter S. Thompson

Love, Cute Kitties and Porn
~Miss R

A Poem In the Key of Depression

crows in rain LG

I can beat anything. Conquer anything
From intellectual pursuits to stupid bar jokes
From Music to Skiing
It’s a proven fact and my humility is obvious as you can see

Sitting on the bed
Looking at the damned walker
Thinking of the fall last week that
I told no one about. No more hospitals

Knocked me out cold and caused a concussion
Followed by the first migraine ever
Followed the next day by
Electrical shocks all through my body and numbness

Fuck you body! Fuck you disease!

The truth is kicking my ass
Trying to wrap my broken brain around something
Walking again might not happen at a 30% chance
No dancing no man to love my life a nauseating carnival ride

During the third week in the hospital
Psychosis and hallucinations had stopped
Idiot physicians had jacked me full of steroids and was allergic
Read the records last week they note Explosive Personality

Well when I was drinking and in a black-out it was true
As I read through the charts I laughed
Laughter tinged with grim thoughts
There were no notes on a previous steroid reaction

One night I wandered out to the nurse’s station
And asked for a Cabernet and a Cigarette
Don’t Drink Don’t Smoke What do You Do?
Thought I was on a spaceship. With a bar. It’s so me.

My boyfriend of three years came to visit the third week
After the cognitive functions returned
He admitted after diligent questioning and lies
He had been with another for months. My heart, will and soul crushed then.

So I looked at those paralyzed legs that day
Sitting on the hospital bed going on three weeks
Looking at that damned wheelchair
Knowing he had been cheating on me, why he had not visited but twice and quickly

The number one cause of death from TM
Is Suicide.
Not failure of the liver or respiratory system or falls
Those are the silver, bronze and runner ups

Mom calls every day
She drives from California every two weeks
She does the laundry, prepares food for the freezer
Cleans the house and brings me Fresca which is nice

No longer can I cook, clean or hold anything for long
Taking a shower is a bitch. On a chair. Like a geriatric
Please wash my hair I’m so lonely and it hurts
Feel a burden and pathetic whiner to express these words to anyone

These are my thoughts after almost three months
Working hard each day with PT exercises
Trying to take a few steps no concussion please
Never able to get on my tippy toes again

Fuck you body! Fuck you disease!

Mom called last night and asked how I was
Told her about the anger the shocks, numbness the embarrassment of the steroid reaction
The worthless neurologist with no prognosis and no advice
Exhaustion of the body soul and nerve function and tear ducts

So Mom said Be Glad you were diagnosed so quickly
So what if that steroid caused the staff to treat you as a scary diagnosed psychotic
Your boyfriend was an abusive piece of shit. There is progress. There is no longer a wheelchair
You almost lost your life

And I answered
What Life?

A Serious Post from your usually Not Serious Bi Polar Writer

I was generously offered the opportunity to write a guest post for one of my favorite sites, Black Box Warnings. Some of you may have already  read the piece, but it is under my name, not YoYo-Dyne.

I hesitate to post it here, as it is very personal and not YoYo-Dyne material. It deals with mental illness and Bi-Polar Disorder, and not in my usual passing manner.

If you are interested you can find it here. http://blackboxwarnings.wordpress.com/2013/06/03/heavy-mental-2/

Thank you to my readers… this post will probably cost me a few heh. Damn, I just hit 1000 readers/follows this weekend too. Yay me!

Take Care,

~Miss R

Fuckin’ A Friday!

so kinky wrong greeting card

As Friday Foolishness has been usurped by El Guapo, and Friday Follies™ by Red, we here at YoYo-Dyne present: Fucking A Fridays! As this blog will never see the light of the Freshly Pressed page (some wargarble regarding  inappropriate language) this seemed the only possible title available.

As your Bi-Polar and Bi-Coastal host it’s a toss-up to see if this weekly posting can be kept alive. Or, at least zombified. This column is dedicated to Miss R’s Weekly Weirdest/Most Disturbing/Funniest/Offensive/Musical Best of the Interwebs.  The list is limited to graphics and videos viewed during the preceding week.

WARNING: All have the potential to amuse, amaze, agitate, alliterate (didn’t see that coming did you), nauseate, masturbate or Sharon Tate. No Refunds. All Rice Must be consumed with Nigiri orders. You Must Be This Tall To Ride. One Coupon Per Table.

Okay Roll ‘em!

Mr_Noodle

Hell On Heels –Poppin’ Pills

too-stupid-to-understand-science-try-religion-856499612-800x800

Below is a shiny video courtesy of Mr. Autin from his homage to El Guapo

die alone

shit glitter

homeless warehouse whore

Hope you’ve enjoyed this inspirational quote to begin your weekend. Until next time…
~Miss R

Nothing Much

Graphic courtesy of Marcus at brainlesstales.com

Am clearly on unscheduled hiatus.

Current unopened mail in the YoYo-Dyne Email Inbox: 306. This does not count the 30 or so that have been opened and not answered or viewed.

Love you all. I do not subscribe to random or ‘please add me!’ blogs. Only read those that draw me in. Writers who are savvy, funny, and left of center. You know who you are.

The Demon Seed (aka my brilliant daughter) is visiting for two weeks. The Best.
Life itself, as in day to day, financial, physical, emotional has gone sideways on too many tangents too personal to mention.

Promise to catch up, absorb all of your fabulous words, and find a way out in another week or so.

Miss all of your emotions, tales, vivisections, views and blues. See you soon. In the words of Miss Vega…

If you want me
You can find me
Left of center
Off of the strip

In the outskirts
In the fringes
In the corner
Out of the grip

When they ask me
“What are you looking at?”
I always answer
“Nothing much” (not much)
I think they know that
I’m looking at them
I think they think
I must be out of touch

But I’m only
In the outskirts
And in the fringes
On the edge
And off the avenue
And if you want me
You can find me
Left of center
Wondering about you

I think that somehow
Somewhere inside of us
We must be similar
If not the same
So I continue
To be wanting you
Left of center
Against the grain

If you want me
You can find me
Left of center
Off of the strip
In the outskirts
In the fringes
In the corner
Out of the grip

When they ask me
“What are you looking at?”
I always answer
“Nothing much” (not much)
I think they know that
I’m looking at them
I think they think
I must be out of touch

But I’m only
In the outskirts
And in the fringes
On the edge
And off the avenue
And if you want me
You can find me
Left of center
Wondering about you
Wondering about you

~Miss R

Holidays! Suicide Rates Up! Corporations Thrilled!

It’s actually a myth that suicide rates increase during the holiday season. Same type of urban myth that  insists crime goes up during a full moon.

Sounds Pagan and cool though eh?

Bummer for the Insurance conglomerates.
No more threats of paying out for medical costs until Spring. Party on Doctor Garth.

Paging Dr. Howard, Paging Doctor Fine….

It's a Wonderful Life

Here’s a cheery fucking Christmas ditty. Decided to ditch the Haiku this year.

The perfect picture
Great film and memories most dear
No lighted angel nor pine bough
No comfort this year
Maybe a bell will ring
Maybe I’ll answer
and get my wings

Cheers to all of you celebrating without loved ones; gone and remembered or far away and felt.
Let’s enjoy that tuna sandwich, dearth of lights joy and family. A new year is coming. Make it through the night.

Miss R

Buy a Gun, Enjoy My Self-Loathing or Move Along Citizen

Have you ever suffered from depression?

bi-polar hell

I mean the type diagnosed by a physician. Not a few weeks of sadness, or grief over a loss or death. Yes, these will all lead to depression but for the majority of people who suffer these or other tragedies it may mean several months or more of counseling, perhaps an anti-depressant for several months in order for a therapist to work with the depressed patient.

No, I’m talking long-term, 20+ years of clinically diagnosed depression including meds and therapy. Followed by an accurate diagnosis of Bi-Polar for at least five years. More meds. Different meds. New cocktails of meds. Sadly current medicine (forced by the insurance companies) no longer truly allow a psychiatrist anything more than prescribing medication. To conquer problems you also must see a therapist. Of which you cannot afford because they rarely accept Medicare and you’re no longer able to pay all of the co-pays if they did.

And if you’ve lost everything; a successful business –that you built up by working 14 hours a day, not being able to hire even one employee for the first two years, finally being featured in magazines, opening more stores, a huge e-commerce business as well, television coverage, and mentions all across the Internet.

Your retirement money, savings, home, vehicle all lost to the recession of the Bush years (and attorneys to divorce and restrain a psychotic ex-husband), and you are dependent on a Social Security Disability stipend of less than $1000.00 a month.
How the hell will you EVER feel better?

Add back surgery, which did not work –FAIL tag-  and the cost of co-pays to doctors and hospitals that you cannot possibly pay off.
Constant pain, inability to swim, hike, ski or even walk long distances. And another surgery being scheduled.
How the hell can you SEE a future?

Have you ever attempted suicide? More than once? More than twice?  And failed? –Insert FAIL tag- . Pro-Tip: pills are too easy to accidentally throw up, or change your mind. Plastic razors chew up your skin and you don’t bleed quickly enough. Use a gun for godssake.

Oh, and you’ll be 50 in another month. Wonderful. With no more close friends; they already know about your problems and seriously don’t want to hear anything else. Hell I wouldn’t. Family you don’t dare reveal your psychological pain with, nor an understanding boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/husband? Your fabulous fifty party –as if turning 50 is a fucking pleasure and isn’t deathly depressing in itself- will be at home.
The entree a can of tuna fish and a single piece of pie from Raley’s market for dessert. Okay maybe dinner out –my genius boyfriend suggested a casino buffet. I’m thinking the tuna far preferable. And safer.

A call from my daughter –the only reason the suicidal ideation backed off, with her 4.0 grades and beginning college-. A card and call from Mom.
Missing Dad since his death, so no call from him. His birthday is/was a week before mine.

So, I spend 16 out of every 20 hours awake weeping uncontrollably. No longer wanting to live, but not wishing to crush my daughter by blowing this neuro-scrambled brain on the walls.
The back pain never ceases, unless I drink too much. At which point I’ll pay for it in the morning and it’s goddamned fattening as well. Not even self-medicating is a viable option.

Enough self-loathing for today.  Am tired of being witty, enjoyable or even caustic.
I just want it all to end. There are no dreams left.
Some days are like this.

 

Sure to offend Everyone…except my family. For once.

Black Rock CityBurning Band

There’s a bad moon rising.
Oh alright it’s just ended for the month. It’s the image that counts dammit.

Back is getting worse not better. What the hell is up with that? Can’t get a refill on oxy -even though it’s a  Way low dose  for what I need. Isn’t there anything else??  God knows I don’t need another fucking addiction. Can’t believe I don’t have PICA.

Anyway, life seems worthless (check: x), daughter gone away to college and grown up (check: x) wondering what happened to my interesting lively life (check: x), depression on the wax (check: x) back pain getting worse (WTF check: x). Band officially broke up (check: x) OH, and best of all…. SSD reduced by over 1/3 since my daughter turned 18. As if I don’t have to support her in college (Go SF State heh) (check: x) meaning I have to live on under $900.00 a month (including daughter)…when I spent most of my life living on six figures (check: x).

Lost my houses, 401k.s IRA’s etc in the last divorce and then trying to live .Just to get away from Psycho-Fuck in Michigan (aka ex-hubby number two)

Waiting for Burning Man to cheer me. See my other family. Relax. Look at art. Play in the Burning Band -even if I have to buy a new uniform shirt because after 5 years it doesn’t seem as though all of the wine, beer and random brass instrument spit will come out of it anymore.

Just needed to write tonight. It’s after midnight and have been a mess all damned day. Usually save these exciting and amusing tidbits for my ‘other’ blog. But really. Fuck it.
Give a shot, cola, thumbs up or whatever is needed to get me to The Burn.

Livin’ the Life in Reno
OR as you may know it ‘the OTHER city in Nevada’
~Miss R

Broken Engine

Well it does has something to do with a motor, Okay, motor skills actually.

The whole  ‘engine’ thing was  more  than a Silly Putty stretch and more like a Stretch Armstrong  kind of stretch.

If you don’  recognize the two items that I’m referring to above  then you’ll just have  fuck  yourself and do some Googling.

And get off my lawn you kids.

There have been very few posts the last three weeks.  The surgery was long and arduous.

Am still using walker, taking opiates (which I a am weaning  myself off of )  feeling  intense pain

Right now the engine is broken and the Motor Skills are irregular and slow. My cognitive abilities appear to be  normal as well.

What’s worrying me is that it seems I’ve forgotten how to type.  Now what kind if weird side effect is this?!

Called doc yesterday to ask some questions.

Forgot to ask about this little tidbit.

Will let you know as soon as I can. This blog has taken over two hours to write.  It should have 15 or 20 minutes. The spelling is so bad, because I’ve forgotten where the keys are, that spellcheck doesn’t recognize th,yjindu.gyuiod!

~Way fucked up in Reno

Laughing at National Mental Health Month

My mind has been a vortex of depression, anger, fear (and loathing) for months. How to change? What can help and help immediately? Laughter.

Taking an inventory of my behavior over the last year I’ve noticed something unusual: Laughter doesn’t come as often or as easily.

This morning I signed on to Facebook (go ahead and sneer now) and saw a status that said:

‘DEPRESSION is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign that you have been trying to be strong for too long. Put this as your status if you or someone you know has had depression. Will you do it and leave it on your status for at least an hour? Most people will not, but it’s mental health week and 1 in 3 of us will suffer at some point in our lives.’

Never believe what you read on Facebook. It’s a networking site that promotes idiocy, skanky pictures (woo hoo!) and wasting some time. Not that it can’t be amusing. It’s just that any information coming  across the feed is suspect.

I’m not the snopes.com of the internet but checking out statements dealing with issues that concern me direct my attention to research. First, it is not National Mental Health Week, it’s actually National Mental Health Month. Second, An estimated 26.2 percent of Americans ages 18 and older — about one in four adults — suffer from a diagnosable mental disorder in a given year according to NIMH.

Already we’ve learned the basic tenet of Facebook. If some idiot posts it as a status it’s gotta be wrong.

To keep myself from wandering even further into the abyss of statistics I stopped there. It would be akin to spending four hours on Wikipedia reading all the links from your primary topic and winding up at the Three laws of Thermodynamics. After your initial search for information on David Bowie.

What’s so funny?

National Fruitcake Week is actually National Fruitcake Month. As a psychiatrist-carrying Fruitcake this example of humans acting like sheep (POST THIS STATUS IF YOU DARE FOR ONE DAY!) would normally cause a chuckle. Instead, hardly a smile. Hell, even my favorite Eddie Izzard bits barely cause a subdued laugh these days. Something is definitely wrong.

Climbing out of the despair requires laughter and humor. So beginning the day with Fark.com, The Chive or even LOL Cats is a start. It’s better than allowing your brain to cross into dark neighborhoods. Or eating too much food rich in trans-fat and refined sugar, or sleeping all day. Or calling in hourly bomb threats to the local 7-11.

First thing in the morning with good coffee. It’s a slow process but a start.

Hopefully the easy laughter will come back. I just have to change and look for it. And as my crone of a piano teacher often told me Practice  Practice Practice.

Finding out about National Mental Health Month (Week) was funny. But not as funny as laughing at myself.

~Miss R

A Moment of Angst

Photobucket

I’ve been thinking. No comments about my working without tools again please.

The past few weeks have found me awash in various levels of depression, obsession, worry (about things financial, physical, blah blah blah) and stress.

There’s a roof over my head. Food in the fridge. A car that runs (knocks on her head). My daughter is healthy and doing well.

Still this miasma of unhappiness, uncertainty, fear and the longing to simply give up permeates the waking hours and the dream time.

Now, don’t get me wrong. The days and nights have been punctuated with laughter, self-deprecating humor, and the usual day to day crap that can make one smile. It’s just that… they’re so far and few between. Couldn’t even get into ‘the zone’ when I went skiing today. A bad sign.

I think I know what’s wrong. I may have an axiom here.

All people require two special items to survive:

1. Physical touch.

2. Encouragement  and kind words

Seems to me that these two facets of life are as indispensable as food, shelter and health.

I’ve been missing both. For a long time. So holistically I’m not healthy. Ya, no shock there but bear with me.

Humans are programmed to feel comfort from touch, from words of solace or compliment. Those wacky fun-loving serial killers you read about were all missing these two critical objects in their lives.

So, I feel better identifying what may be a major cause of this current desolation. There’s no cure on the horizon which gives me little hope, but there’s something positive about all of this self-discovery:

I’m too old to start a new career as a serial killer.

I Just Can’t Seem to Get it Right

Since the debacle with my family (over one of my blogs for chrissake) I’ve been unable to write. Or play the piano. Or catch up on any of the other blogs that I normally love to read.
Nothing seems to shake out.
My depression over dad’s death and the fall-out afterwards have stricken my heart and mind.

Apathy has taken hold and creativity has fled screaming into the night.

Hell I can barely read a book. Have a great one going too: Wait Until Spring Bandini by John Fante.

Anyway, it feels like everything is going sideways. For example:
Yesterday I couldn’t leave the house. Or my bedroom.
Today….

Got up early (as I do) and went to a local property management place called Action Properties.
There is this great duplex for rent. It’s a funky weird-ass 1930’s building with lots of defects, tons of storage, a leaky ancient basement and (supposedly) a ghost.
Best parts:
The other side of the building is occupied by a wonderful musician and friend (playing my music would not be a problem here)
The grand piano would fit in the living room
It’s much larger than my current apartment
It has a back yard
The rent is $110.00 LESS a month than I pay now.

Here’s what happened after I took a looksee at the duplex…

Went back with all of my documentation, completed application, $45.00 app fee, social security cards, copy of current lease, blah blah blah.
The receptionist immediately looks at my income verification and says that they cannot rent the duplex to me because their ‘formula’ requires that the rent expenditure be no more than 30% of my income.
Wait. I know that this is the optimal percentage used in determining credit approval for mortgages (didn’t spend all of that time in NYC finance for nothing) but this is Reno. It’s a duplex. It’s in a ‘transitional neighborhood’ (bwahahaha).
Not to mention (oh hell I am) that I overlooked the 30% rule when approving mortgages and credit…. a LOT.
My rent and previous mortgages have always been paid on time or early.
Every fucking month for years and years.

She didn’t care that I’m currently paying $100.00 MORE a month right now and all of my payments have been on time or early.
Told her that I would be willing to set up a direct deposit for the rent check.
She still didn’t care.

According to Action Properties I need to make $351.00 more a month to qualify for this duplex.
She asked if I had additional income.
Uhhhhh no. (I’m on disability you dumbasses)

Then I burst into tears.
As you do.

Absurdity Notice: I was told that I would qualify for a $525.00 a month rental but not the one I wanted which is $575.00
This means that according to their cretinous reasoning I need to have an income of $351.00 more a month to make a rental payment of $50.00 more a month.
Is it me?

So, I’m stuck here in tiny apartment hell with a herd of elephants upstairs, crazy managers next door, and nowhere for my dad’s piano (or any other possessions).
Thanks Action Properties of Reno. You fucking eeeediot bastards.

Whew.
I feel a bit better.
It’s not real writing but it is a small vent in the surface of my soul.

~Miss R

Currently listening:
Singles
By: Deacon Blue
Release date: 23 October, 2006

I Put the Lime in the Coconut



Things could be worse. My girlfriend Susan called this morning. She had a flat affect to her voice. Weird for her. She always cheers me up. We’ve been friends for close to 15 years. Met her in Idyllwild when I opened my first retail store.
Susan was a rep for several game and toy manufacturers and came into my store one day.
This fucking wonderfully hysterical woman got a $500.00 order out of me that day. We’ve been fast friends since, despite the geographical distance of the past 6 or 7 years.

I asked what was wrong.
Turns out she had had a wicked fall from her bike over the weekend and was now sporting pins, plates and other man-made parts in her ankle. Oh yeah, and a buttload of vicodin. Lucky bitch.
She said “Oh Rachael I had a freak accident.”
Naturally it was all I could do to keep from saying “Oh God you mean you hit a car full of freaks?”

So she’s laid up in bed for more than a month, and she works strictly on commission. I advised her to have the hubby peel grapes and work overtime. The point is that things could be worse. For me.
Who’s it all about?

Anyway yesterday I was lying on the bed with a heating pad on the neck, shoulders and back of the skull. The pain would not abate. Of course today I’m seriously concerned it’s the friggin blood pressure…. BOOM!
I was listening to the TV because the stereo is out in the living room and I was sick of every song on iTunes.

The two days prior I got in 4 mile sojourns on each afternoon. It felt fabulous. The sky was blue and the river flowed over the rocks and sunlight tickled the remaining leaves on the trees.
Anyway I reach for the remote and take a look at the offerings:
Montel Williams, People’s Court, some soap opera, Dirty Jobs (which I’d already seen), The Bad New Bears 2 (ugh), a trial on Court TV, and then I saw it.
Starstruck.

Holy shit I LOVE this film. Australian and released in 1982. Hell I have the soundtrack on vinyl, purchased at Tower Records in NYC when Tower Records first opened there. Tres cool and hip in the way the Virgin MegaStore in Times Square is now.
Aiii there were no CDs then.

1982 was the same year that Fast Times at Ridgemont High came out. Another fun flick with great tunes and a great sense of the 80’s. Fast Times had a huge release though and a lot of people know it.
Starstruck was an Indie Aussie Music flick. Wow. Talk about three strikes.

Tapeheads belongs in this class as well, although hit was released in 1989. A quirky funny cult music-related flick released with absolutely no publicity or decent release. Tapeheads stars John Cusak and Tim Robbins as well.

Yes I own Fast Times AND Tapeheads. Didn’t think that Starstruck was available.
Gonna put the DVD on my holiday list.
Along with meat, paper towels, moisturizing cream, Iams cat food, new bras and a place to live.

Spent over four hours today at the clinic. Lucky for me I only have to notify 331 partners of the infection.
Okay not really. It’s only 54. Oh all right it was a different kind of medical clinic –sigh-.

One more time it’s a total change of medication. Am titrating off of one that’s been coursing though my system for 12 years. Adding a few scary new ones that require lab tests every 90 days.
The doc says:
“I want to put you on ——– but you’ll gain weight. A lot of weight.”
My reaction?  A blood curdling scream.
He thoughtfully then suggested another two meds with the addition of anxiety medication.
I acquiesced and he called Security to stand down.

Apparently apropos of nothing the blood pressure was 190/138 today.
The nurse took it twice to make sure. I already told the idiot that my blood pressure meds have been gone for a week.
“You know that’s dangerously high. You have to see a doctor immediately.”
“That’s why I’m here” I say
“Yes but we don’t prescribe that type of medication. You’ll have to see another medical clinic.”
“So I guess I’ll stroke-out here then. Do you have pillow and a blankie?”
“No we’ll give you a referral.” The nurse says.

Great. Come to find out after driving across town to another office (four hours later) that in order to be treated for the blood pressure I have to make an appointment in advance with reams of completed paperwork in advance to qualify for the sliding fee scale.
“Yes” I say “But I am going to have a fucking aneurysm today.”
“I’m so sorry but Washoe County is really behind the curve in medical treatment.”
No shit.

Wile E. Coyote
Genius

Well Thanksgiving is coming up shortly. I’ve been invited to the First Annual Thanksgiving Misfits Dinner at a friend’s house.
C’mon sing with me kids ‘Oh we’re on the Island of Misfit Goys…..’

My hosts have invited 7 or 8 people to hang out, watch cheesy/cult/inappropriate movies (piss on football; we’re all geeks here) and then they’re going to prepare a feast for all.

When I say we’re geeks it’s true. The menu was placed into Excel and posted on Google.
Two count ’em TWO types of Meat (with a capital M), potatoes, pies, veggies, rolls (not of fat since I skirted that damned med) crudités, deserts, wines for each course, absurd campy movies and twisted humor all around.
Can’t think of a better way to celebrate “Happy Kill-An-Indigenous-People-and Eat-Till-You-Puke Day.”

I’m there.

Alrighty then time to look over this amazing array of medication bottles and try to ascertain which ones I take tonight and which are taken in the mornings.
Fuck. Better living through chemistry indeed.

Praise the Lord and Pass the Xanax.

~Miss R

Currently listening:
Chase This Light
By: Jimmy Eat World
Release date: 16 October, 2007