Gobble gobble gobble.
Gobble those little pills.
By the handfull, if needed.
My doctor approves.
Several months ago I had a check-up. My blood pressure was sky-high.
Great.
My white blood cells were screaming "malignancy"!
Oh joy.
I'm glad to report that last week's exam found me to be in fine health. Seems a lingering ear infection shot my blood test to hell and stress and drinking too much sent my BP up.
How did I get all healthy?
Xanax and fucking.
If you know you are going to get laid, you feel better. You relax and bask in the afterglow. Smile at work. Good stuff.
If you know you aren't, Xanax is your best friend. It's the anti-Viagra for the Great Unlaid.
Case in point: I'm dumped. And waiting for the pills to work.
Cast away.
I can't compete with the wife-beating, coke-dealing child-abuser who just got out of jail and went into rehab. He's changed, I'm told. My heart cries Bullshit! but I say OK. It's better for the kids...I am not convinced or sincere, just resigned to failure. Yippee.
We can't see each other any more. HE is trying to change, and SHE believes his crap.
I don't. But I don't count. I never have.
I'm no saint, but I have never, and never will, hit a woman. I've never (as an adult) struck a child. It's been years( 10+) since I've dealt with coke. This doesn't make me a paragon of virtue, it just makes me better than I used to be. It makes me better thanHE ever will be. I'm not proud of my past, but I'm not running from it either-it's just the past. Let's move on and all that... Turns out ,for the third time, I can't compete with three-time losers.
So instead of making love to someone I was becoming quite fond of, I'm watching the Yankees kill the BoSox. Waiting for the little pills to kick in. Drinking shitty beer alone and watching baseball. Shit fucking 13-6 Yankee lead baseball.
And blogging.
Summation:Pathetic.
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