I've been hiding under a fleece blanket Little B usually bogarts for a bed for the last couple of days playing Persona 4, listening to Jeff Hanson and Phosphorescent and eating things like olives and cottage cheese right from the containers whenever my brain finally forces me feed it by making me exceedingly dizzy whenever I stand.
These are signals I've come to recognize over the last 15 years or so as clear signs that depressed SG is on the scene.
This awesome visit from my dear old friend chronic depression hit me out of nowhere this time since the ol' brain chemicals are pretty well regulated by my crazy pills so I'm less than thrilled.
I had all this crap I wanted to write about but the big bully part of my brain is just punching the little part down and telling me that everything I write is trite anyway and I should just go to bed because I'm so tired. I know, however, that as soon as I get in bed I'll just watch dumb stuff like "In the Line of Fire" on hulu until 4 a.m.
Compounding my problem is The Ex who keeps calling me these last few days. What does he want? What part of he dumped me does he not understand??? Of course I don't say this because that would be smart and I am a raging moron who of course will go to lunch with him tomorrow. Because that will definitely help me get out of this awesome mental state I'm in.
Anyway, this is my lame explanation of why there have been no witty posts for a few days.
Tomorrow I'm "bartending" at some party with Martini by making margaritas for a bunch of old guys who like to use the word "cunt" in their dirty jokes at a happy hour where I'm supposed to "dress Mexican" -- I'm a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, ivory skinned girl from Ohio.
Maybe the booze will help. Lots and lots of booze. Or maybe this will push me completely over the edge.
Wish me luck.
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