me vs. therapy

Wince in pain.

Look over at satan, satan uses straw to blow bubbles in fishbowl.

Look down at fish, fish clings desperately to skull decoration...poop clings desperately to fish.

Clear throat. Satan stops blowing, looks up.

Shake head no. Satan frowns, slams straw to ground, noisly sits down in armchair.

Pain strikes again, double over...hear tapping of heels.

Therapist walks in, sits down, says; 'what's wrong with you?'

'old 'nam injury.'

'no wonder you need therapy.'

'haha..ouch.'

'ok, so really...what's the problem?'

'my uterus just figured out that i stopped taking birth control a few weeks ago.'

'looks painful.'

'i don't know why she's so angy...i don't even charge her rent.'

'maybe she's angry because you won't give her a baby.'

'maybe she's angry becuase i won't give her what makes a baby.'

Satan laughs. Therapist says; 'perhaps. but, i don't recommend giving in to her on that one.'

'thanks, i'll just eat motrin for all my meals the next 3 days.'

'so what else is new besides the interesting faces you keep making?'

'well, i had a job interview.'

'umm, very nice...how'd that go?'

'very well. they offered me a position not in rhode island.'

'even better.'

'they also offered me more money.'

'good.'

'and more vacation.'

'great.'

'i turned them down.'

'bad.'

'really?'

'very, very bad.'

'but, don't you want to kno......'

'not really, no.'

'but...'

'i'm just messing with you. why'd you turn it down?'

'thinking about accepting it...well, it made me feel funny.'

'like ricky martin funny or more of a chris rock funny?'

'definately ricky martin.'

'yeah, i can see that.'

'i know. cause on the outside he's all hot and stuff and looks pretty perfect. but inside, he's a big homo and so you can't have him.'

'well, you could if you were a flaming gay man.'

'true.'

'so you're telling me that it was a pretty perfect looking job but it just didn't feel right?'

'yes. i guess i've been complaining about my job and where i live so much that i didn't really stop to appreciate the roses i had.'

'and facing a change forced you to stop and smell those roses, am i correct.'

'exactly. so i'll be sticking it out here a while longer and smiling while i do it.'

'sounds like a healthy thought process.'

'i practiced all day.'

'of course you did.'

'hey, did you know that if your 4th finger is longer than your index finger then your mom released a ton of testosterone when you were in the womb thereby statistically you're more likely to have add, cheat, anger quicker and/or be a homo?'

'i've heard about the research, yes.'

'let's see your hands?'

'no.'

'please?'

'no.'

'that's fine, i mean if you don't want to show me your big, gay lesbian hands then go ahead and hide them but i'll be watching you and find out for myself eventually so it's really not helping you to say no.'

'you like challenges, there's one for you.'

Look over at satan, satan examines hands....

Look back at therapist, say; 'my 4th finger is way longer than my index finger.'

'i'm surprised.'

'really?'

'would you like me to make a surprised face to prove that i'm surprised?'

'now you're just messing with me again.'

'yes. i am. oh, look...our time is up. good luck with your uterus, i hope you two can work out some kind deal.'

'thanks, me too.'

'and careful not to get too distracted looking at every girls hands. you could have an accident while you're not paying attention to everything else around you.'

'you know me too well.'

'comes with the territory.'

'what...being gay?'

'goodbye angela.'

'bye ms. long 4th finger.'

‘ohhh, yes. i’ve been much happier.’

‘you believe the birth control was affecting your mood?’

‘uhhh, yeah!! that thing was the devil pill.’

Hear throat clearing. Look over at satan. Satan frowns.

Make sorry gesture. Look back at therapist. Therapist says; ‘there are studies that implicate the use of oral contraceptives in a variety of health problems.’

‘yeah, no shit. it made me tired all the time too.’

‘umm, that could just be your all-encompassing boredom with rhode island.’

‘…and my job.’

‘and your job.’

‘so, now i’m done and although that increases my risk of pregnancy, i’m quite happy to be rid of it.’

‘you don’t sleep with men.’

‘so.’

‘that kind of negates the risk of pregnancy on its own.’

‘yeah, well...i could sleep with one if i wanted to.’

‘i find it interesting how every other month you think you want to, then change your mind as soon as a boy comes after you. how’s everything else?’

‘a donkey likes me.’

‘really? that’s interesting.’

‘interesting because it’s rare or interesting, tell me more?’

‘tell me more….well, and it’s rare.’

‘she likes me. i don’t like her. the usual.’

‘how do you know she likes you, did she tell you?’

‘no. but the actions are pretty easy to read. take the other night for example….’

‘ok, what about the other night?’

‘i’m sitting in bed, watching my Lost. i get a picture mail of a lighthouse.’

‘uh-huh….’

‘and there’s a text along with it that says; “i had the day off, went for a long walk and found this beautiful lighthouse.”

‘ok. so…’

‘so…lighthouse’s aren’t beautiful. lighthouses are utilitarian. at most, they could be described as neat. like, “hey, look at that lighthouse, that’s pretty neat!’ NOT…’wow, i’m transfixed by the beauty of that lighthouse. the shiny thing on top reminds me of your sparklie eyes…let’s kiss!”

‘she didn’t say that, did she?’

‘might as well have. it’s almost as bad as the Go Sleepies donkey.’

‘i don’t remember a Go Sleepies donkey…’

‘really? i thought i told you.’

‘uh, no. i’d remember or at least have it in my notes. which….i don’t. do tell.’

‘i was staying the night with Go Sleepies. i was really tired cause we’d been out at the bar. i’m in her bed trying to sleep, my eyes are closed i’m about to start snoring when her big, fat head leans over me and says; “are you sleeping?”

‘knowing your personality, i bet that irritated you.'

‘uhh, yeah and it gets better.’

‘continue.’

‘so, i open my eyes and there’s her nostrils hovering over my face. i frown and say; “umm, almost. thanks.” and that’s when she drags her god damn hand down my face and at the same time breaths out in what i think she thinks i would think is some kind of sexy voice….”go sleepies”.

‘yikes.’

‘right?!?’

‘i hope you left.’

‘believe me i wanted to. but i was pretty much frozen cold with creep so i lurched onto my side and hugged myself all night. as soon as the sun rose, i was out of there.’

‘nice story.’

‘she was a pot smoker.’

‘uh-huh.’

‘and a wine drinker.’

‘maybe she was on birth control.’

‘hmmm, good point. anyway, that’s about it for new stuff.’

‘great. that was fun. and…you sound a lot livelier. i’m glad you’re off the pills.’

‘i have some left, think i can get anything for them on the street?’

‘i really don’t think so, but it would be great to hear your story after you get arrested for trying to do it.’

‘hmmm. yeah, you’re probably right.’

‘always am.’

‘see you next week, shrink!’

‘bye, angela.’

‘so there i was, standing in front of the build-a-bear animal wall.’

‘i’m sure the decision took at least 45 minutes.’

’15.’

‘that’s a lie.’

’25. anyway, i decided on the tried and true basic bear.’

‘how long ago was this?’

'umm, this was the farmer girl donkey so what's that....08?'

'if memory serves....ok, go on...'

‘well, i took it to the stuff-it girl and handed her my handmade note.’

‘you hand wrote a note?’

‘yeah. i picked out some of that heavy, cotton weaved paper at a specialty store.’

‘what did the note say?’

‘i’m not saying.’

‘you should tell your therapist everything.’

‘really? you want to know about my semi-serious therapist fantasies?’

‘so she stuffed your bear.’

‘yes, but not all the way. i wanted my bear floppy and worn looking.she takes the note, frowns oddly, stuffs it in his butt and fills it with poof.’

Look over at Satan, Satan ashes cigar, looks bored.

Look back at therapist. She says; ‘and then….’

‘i grabbed it, picked up a bow from the hallmark store, smashed it on his head and took it to the airport and gave it to the girl when she landed.’

‘that’s really quite lovely, but what’s the point?’

‘we got in a fight 3 weeks later, she ripped the bear apart, poof went everywhere, the note fell out, she read it, then threw the whole shebang in the garbage.’

‘right in front of you?’

‘right in front of me.’

‘that note must have been offensive.’

‘no. not at all, very much the opposite. she was just a cold, fucking bitch.’

‘your favorite.’

‘don’t i know it.’

‘will this incident make you rethink romantic, thoughtful gestures in the future?’

‘well, i don’t want it to, but how can it not? i mean, she basically smashed my heart.’

‘and your bear.’

‘yeah, i feel bad for the bear. he was a pretty awesome bear.’

Fish rolls eyes, poops.

‘you have a strange attachment to inanimate things.’

‘hey, you can’t pull that one out this time. you have to see the symbolism in the bear ripping.’

‘she was angry, i don’t see symbolism, just fury.’

‘fine, suit yourself, but i’m sticking with symbolism.’

‘uh-huh. ok, so what else?’

‘one time, i shoved a rose in her door while she was away on business.’

‘that’s nice.’

‘i’m not done. see, she was dating several girls at the time, so i put a michigan quarter in the petals so she’d know who it was from.’

‘because you're from michigan but were in connecticut and the quarter would stand out?’

‘yes.’

‘hmmm.’

‘what?’

‘do you find it odd that you had to identify whom the rose was from?’

‘no. i find it odd that she used the quarter to buy some gum later that night.’

‘maybe…and this is just a suggestion….in the future….if you have to stamp your name on a gift to let the receiver know it’s from you and not some other girl in a line of hussies, you should discontinue the dating relationship.’

‘what about when she rips open stuffed animals?’

‘that might be a good sign too. what did the note say?’

‘i don’t want the readers to know.’

‘write it down.’

‘hey, good idea.’

Look over at Satan. Satan scribbles note, holds it out.

Grab note, hand it to therapist.

Therapist sighs.

Say; ‘what?’

‘nothing.’

‘what?’

‘that was a nice note.’

‘so you were driving?’

‘yes. and as the driver it was my responsibility to crack the whip.’

‘i don’t understand what crack the whip means?’

‘well, basically…if you’re pulling someone on a rope you cut a turn in your respective vehicle quickly swinging said person on the rope out on a sharp arc.’

‘and this makes them fall off i assume.’

‘more often than not. it's kind of the point.’

‘and this is fun?’

‘where did you grow up, the soviet union. yes, it’s fun.’

‘uh-huh.’

‘so anyway, commrade. there i am driving the snowmobile….’

Look over at Satan. Satan wears ski goggles and snowmobile helmet while reading usa today.

Look back at therapist, say; ‘and peter was tied up right behind me on the little, red plastic sled.’

‘is this going somewhere?’

‘it’s funny, quite interrupting. and my sister was tied up right after peter and she was on the ginormous, purple sled with the hand brakes on the sides. the thing must have weighed 45 pounds. i’m not even joking. we called it grimace, no one ever wanted to ride in it.’

‘well, of course not, it was big and purple, that's gay.’

‘no kidding, who wants a gay sled?’

‘kids don’t like gay sleds.’

‘yeah.’

‘go on….’

‘well, it’s snowing like a bitch and we’re out in the middle of the lake on the ice so the wind is whipping around too.’

‘because that’s where children should be.’

‘i know, right…especially on snowmobiles that go 85 miles an hour.’

‘uh-huh, so you all fell through?’

‘no. i was all excited because we’d just finished building a giant snow jump and i was about to crack the whip right over it.’

Therapist shakes head in disbelief.

Say; ‘i hit the gas, turn the handle bars and they both fly out towards the jump.’

‘someone is breaking something…..’

‘peter hits the jump first, flips out of the little, red plastic sled, falls off and lands on the ice.’

‘what a surprise.’

‘then my sister, who at this point is sailing through the air in grimace starts coming back to earth….right towards peter’.

‘where were your parents?’

‘shoveling the driveway i think….which is how we all escaped.’

‘didn’t they hear you leave with the snowmobile?’

‘we were very sneaky back then.’

‘not much has changed.’

‘so my sister’s eyes are all big, peter wets his snowsuit and by the time i figured this probably wasn’t a good idea my sister and grimace slammed to the ground….’

‘brakes and all?’

‘brakes and all…..onto peter.’

‘that’s great.’

‘yeah it looked painful, but he made a good 2nd jump for my sister.’

‘was he ok?’

‘after he stopped crying, he seemed fine.’

‘fantastic.’

‘all around, a pretty fun day.’

‘and this was indicative of your childhood?’

‘pretty much, yeah.’

‘well, aside from the 120 hp snowmobile, perilous ice, raging snowstorm and grimace sled, i’d say all-in-all a good time.’

‘yeah, it was awesome. sometimes, when i’m sitting in my cubicle i think about….’

‘donkeys.’

‘those too...no! the good times i had when i was young.’

‘that can cure a bad day in just a few minutes.’

‘you know what else can cure a bad day in a few minutes.’

‘if it’s something about me, my clothes, my smile, my breasts, my nakedness or dinner…..i don’t want to know.’

‘but…..’

‘no butts either.’

Frown.

Therapist smiles.

'you haven't spoken about your white pony in quite a long time. in fact, i believe the last i heard about her was right after christmas.'

'yeah, well after we kissed in the parking lot, things just went south.'

'why do you think that is?'

'maybe my kissing sucked.'

'angela...'

'what?'

'can you try to be serious?'

'i was.'

'angela, kissing isn't the end all be all.'

'yes, it is.'

'no, it's not.'

'well, maybe not for people like you. but the rest of us put a lot of stock into it.'

'oh for crying out loud. fine...let's just pretend she drifted off for another reason besides the kissing not being good.'

'but it was.'

Therapist grits teeth. Smile. Therapist doesn't smile back. say; 'i'm sorry.'

'just go on....so this woman is in a relationship, they live together, you two have a thing for each other for months and when the breakup finally happens and you can be together, it dies. i know this has deeply affected you, what do you think happened?'

'i think either a) i'm amazing and when the chance to really be with me became a reality it proved overwhelming and intimidating and instead of embracing a healthy, stabile person who could provide her with a wonderful relationship she choose to bang stupid girls or b) i'm dumb and she doesn't like me she just liked the attention i provided. there.....happy?'

'yes, thank you.'

Therapist scribbles on notepad.

Glance to the right. satan knits baby bonnet. stops, wipes away tear, continues knitting.

Look back at therapist, say; 'are you done writing your notes or what?'

'just about.'

'are you writing about how i'm sorely delusional?'

'no. i'm writing down a note to myself.'

'what's it say?'

'it says, never...ever be a lesbian.'

Frown.

Therapist smiles, says; 'i think you're right.'

'about which one?'

'both...to an extent.'

'great. well, then that ends that miserable chapter in my life. what's next?'

'how about we talk about your trip down to florida to see your parents?'

'ok, that's fun!'

'what did you do?'

'i got killed at dominos. i ate a lot. i almost overflowed their toilet....again, i spooned the dog every night and i bought a nifty pair of sunglasses!'

'sounds exciting. do you feel refreshed?'

'well, i did until we started talking about the white pony today.'

'would you like to pretend the white pony died?'

'yes! how can we kill her?'

'ummm, i suggest you decide.'

'can i pretend white pony was hit by a combine? like one of those big, huge ones on a farm out in nebraska?'

'certainly, it's your session.'

'awesome! i feel better already.'

'i'm glad.'

'hey, you know this session wasn't as funny as others. my blog readers are gonna be bored.'

'angela, as i've pointed out before....our sessions aren't intended to fuel good blog writing.'

'but it makes me money.'

'money isn't everything.'

'does that mean you'll consider throwing this session in for free.'

'fat chance. i appreciate your boldness though. now, utilize that more when women treat you the way white pony treated you and you'l be all set.'

'thanks therapist.'

'bye angela.'