February 1, 2019

sentences ii

It bothers me that I haven't written in five days, but I know why I haven't; in addition to the Universe being a general standard-issue asshole, I've missed my meds on two separate mornings.  One instance resulted in thinking I had the flu; the other resulted in today, the confluence of irritations and the moment when I couldn't stand the plastic TV bracket on the wall rattling any more, every time the heat came on in the office, and had to climb on a chair and ram a stress squeezie ball up behind the network monitoring system to silence the rattle.  This was successful.  Human lives were saved.

Nevertheless, I came home from work and declared it a day on which everyone needed to get the fuck out of my way, because I would be eating whatever the fuck I wanted and doing whatever the fuck I wanted, and devil take the hindmost.

I didn't notice the pills still in the container until later.  And if anyone were to suggest to me right now that perhaps I ought to re-think my morning routine and do something to prevent this sort of thing from happening, they'd be surprised to find their BMI rather markedly higher than before, on account of being roughly a foot shorter, on account of missing a head and continuing their existence from the neck down.

I've figured out what I'm going to do, anyway.  Only one of my morning meds "matters"; the rest are a vitamin and an omeprazole tablet and the 0.25 mg Klonopin that I can take or leave at this point.  I'm moving the important pill to my night pill box, because while I sometimes flake up my pre-coffee routine, I have a one hundred percent perfect track record of wanting a good night's rest and doing whatever is needed to get one.  Those meds are never, ever forgotten.

It is in that spirit - the spirit of whatever-ness - that I cash in on the semi-annual sentences I've saved up for you so far since the last batch ... they are few, but mighty, these sentences that we (The Kid, P.J. and I) have found ourselves saying out loud.  Enjoy them, and I will see you on the other side of raveled-sleeve-knitting sleep.


"See?  I must be allergic to Charlie Sheen's face, because my nose just started running."

"I just don't think I would fuck Wolverine.  I mean, what if there was an accident?"

"Well ... hey, maybe you could be an Amazon, like if he sliced off your right tit.  Except that I have a bad shoulder, so I couldn't do archery.  Never mind."

"There were not egg beaters in the Garden of Eden."

"I'm really good at animal noises.  I could sing Old MacDonald like a motherfucker."

"You're seriously telling me that taking somebody's deer head off their wall and strapping it onto a mail cart and running around stabbing people with it would be a sane thing to do?"

"Look, if I was the corpse of someone with tapeworm cancer, I'd totally have resting bitch face, too."

*Dear Google:  Really?  You wanted to replace 'omeprazole' with 'flameproof'?  Do you even know what you just did, there?  Nice one.  You get points.  (cough)  You really ought to strike up a conversation with a basic medical dictionary, you know.  Or just go visit Walgreens for an hour.  You'll be fine.  Stay out of the flip-flops section.


  1. Being totally insane, I'm going to risk losing a foot in height by saying - I've done the same thing, and when that same thing is pointed out to me - I get extremely POINTED, so it's almost safer to leave me to find out by myself that I've forgotten to take the bloody tablets.

    Even though I'm self proclaimed insane, I love the idea of putting a deer head onto a mail cart - would it be homicide or a nature accident? - which kinda proves your point, hahah ! See what I did there?

    Mother rang - she's losing her short-term memory. This is the third call in less than 30 minutes, the question is always the same 'What am I doing today?' I'm being all calm and considerate the first two times, and tell her. The third time I tell her 'she's going to die, and before her birthday (Sunday)!'

    She then tells me but you told me the last two times, that I'm supposed to go to the post office, and the store to get milk. I growled - she laughed. We both feel better ;)

    1. I love that woman. And yes, I know I don't have to deal with the calls every day, but that was a brilliant bit of self-deprecation and winding you up!

      The deer head belongs to someone in our department. It's on his office wall. I've been threatening googly-eye glasses for years, but on that particular day, I was pissed off and wanted to puncture him with the antlers.

  2. Love it, especially the deer head on a cart—I visualized me running around with one and it was plenty satisfying!