me vs. therapy

'so, i got home, clomped up the stairs, turned the corner and there it was.'

'what?'

'the post office package from doesn't deviate donkey.'

'which one is doesn't deviate donkey?'

'the one from boston.'

'umm, what's with the name?'

'she was rigid. she was stone-cold solidly rigid. a nuclear explosion 2 miles from her house couldn't have melted through that.'

'i see. you certainly receive a lot of packages from exs. what was in it?'

'some of my stuff.'

'maybe you should stop giving things out until 6 months in.'

'i never make it to 6 months in.'

'exactly. why don't you tell me about your latest donkey?'

'she's not a donkey. she's latin.'

'umm, ok. so what does that mean. exactly?'

'it means that her name is el burro.'

'i see.'

'it makes perfect sense.'

'yes. of course it does to you. so why don't you tell me how it's been going with her.'

'i can't do that.'

'ok. why can't you do that?'

'she told me i can't. she's puerto rican.'

'what does puerto rican have to do with it?'

'you've never dated a puerto rican have you?'

'no.'

'they like knives and other shiny, deadly things.'

'is that right? the entire ethnic group huh?'

'yes..'

'ok. well i am not going to accept that you won't discuss this with me in therapy because you can't find the discretion to not publish it in your blog. so let me ask you again...how are things with the new girl?'

'BLEEP. BLEEP BLOP BLIP BLEEP. BLOOP BLIPPITY BLIP BLIP BLAP.'

Blank stare.

Smile back.

Blank stare.

Raised eyebrow back.

Therapist says, 'you must like her?'

'yes.'

'then i guess that's all i need to know for now.'

'thanks. hey you know lent is coming up here soon.'

'you're an atheist.'

'yeah, but i was brought up catholic.'

'ok. where are you going with this?'

'well, i wanted to like...try and give something up. for lent.'

'umm, yeah so, angela...'

'yeah.'

'you're an atheist.'

'right.'

'i guess i'm not sure why you'd want to follow a ritual instituted by a religion you don't believe in.'

'it's tradition. i like the comfort of tradition.'

'ok. i'll go with that.'

'hey, you're a jew. you don't believe in lent either. wouldn't it be fun to give something up together?!'

'no.'

'oh. well, i want to.'

'fine. i'll bite, what do you want to give up?'

'well, at first i wanted to give up sex with chics.'

'don't you mean donkeys? chics co notates chickens.'

'right. ok, sex with donkeys. but then i thought that there's something i really have been wanting to give up more than casual sex with someones that i hardly know.'

Look over at Satan. Satan shakes head. Sighs heavily.

Look back at therapist, say; 'i need to give up diet coke.'

'you think that's realistic?'

'no. but neither is thinking your 4-year old son who enjoys barbies, jazz class and the color pink will turn out straight. but people do.'

'you know why i like you angela?'

'because you're queer?'

'i like you because you say what you mean. and you're too self absorbed to even realize the effect it will have on anyone else.'

'i think you just said i'm an asshole.'

'in a roundabout sort of way.'

'really?'

'no. i would never say that about a client.'

'you'll just think it when i leave.'

'correct. actually, what i was trying to get at is you're honest. despite being crass and indelicate. it is an admirable quality. no matter how carelessly you wield it.'

'er, right. so i'm going to try giving up the diet coke even though you don't think i can.'

'i think it's biting off a lot. but, you'll try it no matter what i say. so, good luck and stock up on motrin for the headaches.'

'thanks therapist.'

'you're welcome, angela.'

'he was a nice man. kind of little, nerdy looking thing. but soft spoken.'

'why are we talking about your gynocologist in kalamazoo, michigan?'

'i don't know. you asked me if i'd thought of kalamazoo lately. that's what came to my mind.'

'why?'

'do you really want to know that?'

'probably not.'

'because i won't tell you if you really don't want to know.'

'no you won't. continue.'

'well, i was sitting in the bathroom at work today...'

'ok, stop.'

'...and while there i was humming and then it occured to me that i should get rid of my tampon because i'm pretty sure i was close to the 8 hour expiration time and i don't want toxic shock syndrome because it sounds pretty scary when you read about it on the back of the tampon box.'

'fascinating.'

'so, i did that and then i flashed to a scene in my gyno's office back in kalamazoo.'

'i have no idea why this is going where it's going...'

'quit interrupting, you wanted to know.'

'actually, i remember saying i didn't.'

'so...i was in my gyno's office.'

'uh-huh.'

'and he pulled out the duck bill thing.'

'known in educated circles as a speculum.'

'aren't you the big man on campus for knowing that...'

Therapist smiles.

Say; 'anyway. he pulled out the speculum and a tube of ky jelly and i crawled up the table away from him. and he gives me the "scoot down please". and i gave him the "no".'

'you've been through this before, i don't understand the problem?'

'the problem is that shit is nasty and i refuse to have it anywhere near my cave of mystery.'

'did you  just call your vagina a cave of mystery?'

'it's not funny.'

'yeah, it really is.'

'quit laughing.'

'does your mother read your blog?'

'yeah, go ahead, laugh it up. make fun of the gay girl.'

'the gay girl with the cave of mystery you mean?'

'so, i'll just go ahead and ignore you now and continue with my story.'

'no, no...i'm sorry. i'll stop. let me ask you this....why the aversion to ky jelly?'

'because, when you get ky jelly shoved up there it eventually gets warmed up...and then it starts coming out, like right about the time you're on that date with the hot girl that works at the cafe you've been going to for a year and then finally asked out...'

'i see.'

'it's disgusting. i told him i'll take it like a man and go without.'

'taking it like a man would involve a completely different cave of mystery...did he get it right?'

'you know, next time you ask me a question about how my thoughts got from there to here i'm not disclosing anything real to you because you just laugh at me.'

'well, i was with you angela...until the cave of mystery comment.'

'thanks. you've just crushed my heart.'

'i seriously doubt it. i think you might be a little sensitive lately given the most recent breakup with the goat.'

'maybe. hey, i have a new date looming on the horizon.'

'really? well, that's great news. tell me about her.'

'i can't.'

'ahh, she knows about your blog i take it.'

'yes. the request was made not to include her in it.'

'something you should respect.'

'of course...at least until i get sex.'

'you're not getting sex now.'

'shit, you're probably right.'

'i'm always right. and on that note, let me advise you as one who is always right not to refer to your special place as the cave of mystery.'

'fine.'

'at least not with new donkeys.'

'fine, i get it.'

'alright, i just wanted to make sure. have a great weekend.'

'quit laughing.'

'so, how are things?'

'things suck.'

'i guess that's better than "fine".'

'sure.'

'why do things suck?'

'i got dumped.'

'what do you mean you got dumped? when were you dating someone?'

'since new years.'

'and why haven't you told me about this girl. er, it is a girl right?'

'yes. and because i figured that i'd get dumped. so why go through the same process i always go through with you. again. and why bore the blog readers with the same stupid fucking story...again.'

'i see. so, you meet a girl...figure it's not going to work out from the get-go, don't tell me about her because you're certain of the outcome, then the outcome you envisioned happens and at that point you decide to tell me. and your readers'

'correct.'

'that's the stupidist thing i've heard you say in a long time. maybe even ever.'

'you know...i'm paying you. aren't you, like...supposed to be nice to me. or even just try a semblence of nice even if you don't want to be?'

'one might think that. but no. tell me about her.'

'no.'

'ok. do it anyway.'

'i don't want to.'

'i can sit here and stare at you for the rest of our hour together writing random notes that you can't see all the while driving you crazy because you can't stand it when i write notes that you can't see, or you can tell me about the girl. what's it going to be?'

'she was nice. she had a job, a house a car an aptitude for being normal. she didn't drink too much, didn't smoke, obeyed all traffic laws. probably had a good credit score. she had a nice smile, and was funny and she smelled pretty. i didn't so much like her taste in kitchen tables but that could have eventually been ironed out to my favor.'

'sounds like a keeper.'

'yes, well one would think. i however don't get to keep keepers very long for some reason that continues to escape me.'

'why'd she dump you?'

Shrug.

Look over at Satan. Satan shrugs.

Look back at therapist.

Say; 'lots of reasons were given, most of which i don't remember, since at the moment they were being given i was having 'nam-like flashbacks of girlfriends past.'

'i see. so, you interpreted her reasons as being the same as everyones before her?'

'yes.'

'why?'

'because all her reasons sounded the exact same as the ones i'd heard from others ex's. and none of them really matter.'

'why don't reasons matter to you?'

'because at the end of the day, you're still dumped.'

'well, you have a point.'

'really?'

'sure.'

'but, you never agree with me.'

'no, not really. but your sad, puppy dog eyes framed by those crows feet are making me have some pity.'

'you're the worst therapist i've ever met.'

'there's a smile behind that comment.'

'no there's not. shut up.'

'yes there is, i see the light in your eyes. which are framed by those crows feet...'

'you're stupid. i quit you.'

'you tried that last time. now stop it. what are you going to do moving forward?'

'well, i thought about that while i was blubbering in the shower.'

'and?'

'and i figured blubbering in the shower wasn't going to do much for me.'

'since it never has before?'

'right. so, i decided i could blubber for 2 more minutes.'

'and then?'

'and then i decided i'm going to quit eating shit food and that i'm going to run a lot more and that i'm going to be nicer to my cats. and that i should probably write a blog because that would make me happier.'

'has it worked?'

'no, it's really quite a boring blog so far.'

'what do you think you need to make it less boring?'

'a good zinger from my shrink might do it.'

'i'm all out of zingers since the bears lost.'

'yeah, that sucked huh?'

'almost as much as your luck with girls.'

'that was almost a zinger.'

'i didn't even try. score one for me.'

'thanks for the chat.'

'anytime.'

'bye therapist.'

'bye angela.'

‘what is it?’

‘it’s your christmas gift!’

‘i’m jewish.’

‘why do you have a christmas tree in the lobby then?’

‘for my christian clients.’

‘that’s false advertising.’

‘so are your boobs.’

Shrug.

Therapist says; ‘thank you. it was lovely of you to think of me.’

‘whatever.’

Therapist shakes box. Says; ‘what is it?’

‘if i wanted you to know what it was before christmas, i wouldn’t have wrapped it.’

Therapist smiles widely, holds up gift, says; ‘you wrapped this?’

‘who else would have?’

‘i don’t know, from the looks of it a 4-year old.’

Frown, say; ‘ok, everyone knows i’m not the best gift wrapper there is. it’s supposed to be the thought that counts.’

‘is your mother embarrassed by your wrapping?’

Sigh heavily, say; ‘yes…among other things. can we move on…’

‘how was the work holiday party?’

‘lame. i sat around at the visitors work station trying not to touch anything, made out my grocery list, then i went to the bathroom 3 times. after much too long of a time, we were herded to the cafeteria where i grabbed a seat at the boys table and we all discussed call of duty and cars engines.’

‘how’d the not-eating stint go?’

‘very well. i only had 5 bow ties and one little strip of chicken. it was later in the day that i compromised my plan.’

‘oh? so you three decided to go into nyc did you?’

‘er, yeah. we had a fantastic time, but 3 martini’s and 2 cosmos later and i was eating everything. if someone had set a wad of fried lint in front of me I would have eaten it.’

‘yum. i’m glad you all decided to go. i think it was a good chance for you to bond outside of the office and you’ve all been under quite a lot of stress so i’m sure that helped alleviate it.’

‘uh. yeah. we got lost in queens.’

‘really? well, forget what i said about the stress part then.’

‘actually, being lost in queens and stressed about when we’d get shot to holy hell helped us bond.’

‘i imagine so.’

‘i bought a moose hat too, for ski trips.’

‘is that what that ridiculous furry antler thing sticking out of your bag is?

‘the one that’s kinda shaped like the gift on your desk…yeah.’

Therapist rolls eyes. Satan giggles.

Say; 'what happened to your fish?'

Therapist glance over to empty fish bowl, sighs, says; 'bubbles had a untimely death.'

'wow, too bad....seemed like such a nice fish.'

'i feel like you're being sarcastic. but thank you. we'll be getting another one as soon as it gets a little warmer out.'

'why don't you get something cute and furry instead?'

'cute and furry requires care.'

'something you're lacking in?'

'usually.'

'but you're a shrink. caring is the name of the game.'

'no, sounding like i care is the name of the game. there's a difference.'

'but, you care about me right?'

'of course i do angela.'

'i feel like you're being sarcastic. but thank you.'

'you're welcome. have a merry christmas.'

'and you have a merry hannakuh.'

'it's happy.'

'whatever.'

‘no, i won’t be writing you a script for narcotics.’

‘what if i promise to nominate you for cnn heroes?’

‘for dispensing drugs to someone who doesn’t need them?’

‘but I do need them!’

‘for what?’

‘my office christmas….er, i mean, holiday party. it’s tomorrow.’

‘in long island?’

‘yep.’

‘where your angry, non cooperative, fun-sponge of a boss’s lair is?’

‘yep.’

‘ah. now i understand. you’re right, you do need them.’

‘great!’

‘but i’m not giving them to you.’

‘c’mon. do you have any idea how much anxiety i have over this shit trip?’

‘yes, i do.’

‘so?’

Therapist smiles, says; ‘so, you’re an adult. deal with it.’

‘that’s nice. thanks for nothing.’

‘you’re welcome. really, angela…it’s not that bad.’

‘i’m on my period, i’ll have to be social and i just started my no-eating policy.’

‘well, i’d gasp if i thought those were debilitating. but (sadly for you)…they aren’t.’

‘i have to take out my lip ring! my hole will close and i’ll never get it back in.’

‘if i were less of a therapist i’d venture a stab at a that’s-what-she-said.’

Scowl.

Therapist smiles. Says; ‘just drink before you get there. that’s what i do before work.’

‘really?’

Therapist continues smiling.

Say: ‘i just hate sitting there. they put me in the vacant desk, the one right in the middle of the room. i have to touch a mouse that everyone and their brother has smeared their germs all over. and since i’m rarely there all the guys just stare at me because i'm a new set of boobs and no one talks to me except the boss and she doesn’t really talk she just kinda barks orders that i don’t even understand because they’re in that ridiculous long island accent. so i end up saying ‘yes’ when she’s done talking, then i screw up what i was supposed to do….’

‘since you have no idea what you were supposed to do…’

‘correct. then i say ‘sorry’, skulk to the bathroom and pretend i have some exotic form of the stomach flu.'

‘yes, but on the bright side there will be an hour-long lunch, that will eat up time for you.’

‘then i'll have to socialize.'

'you like talking and hob-knobbing.'

'not with them. the women look at me like i'm from outer fucking space. if i get up to grab a printout they look out of the corner of their eyes at me like they're going to shank me as soon as i'm distracted. the guys ask me things like how's the weather in connecticut, which is like...10 miles away. but most of all, i promised satan i wouldn't eat anymore since i'm now a fat cow.'

‘you mean, santa?’

Look over at Satan, Satan shrugs, looks quizzical.

Look back at therapist, say; ‘no, satan…my imaginary devil.’

‘right. angela, no matter what you say, you’re not getting drugs from me.'

‘fine. see if i tell you anything important anymore.’

‘suit yourself, i get paid either way.’

‘i quit you.’

‘no you don’t.’

‘yes, i do and you can’t make me not!’

‘our time is up. See you next week.’

‘ok.’