Haiku for you

Posted on November 15, 2016. Filed under: Miscellaneous | Tags: , , , , , , |

I’m not always happy
Try to fake it till I make it
What a load of crap

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EUREKA!!!!!!

Posted on January 13, 2012. Filed under: Announcements, Miscellaneous | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

I ACCIDENTALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO DO WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO DO FOR  D A Y S  NOW.

WHOO WHOOO WOOOOOO

 

GO GO me!

It is ON, I’m going to kick my domain’s BUTT tomorrow

YEAH

-MomGyver

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This is a Public Announcement: TEE HEE

Posted on August 1, 2011. Filed under: Miscellaneous | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , |

Umm, oops.

I have to apologize for the abrupt break in regular blog activity.  As you may or may not have noticed if you read regularly the last post was a bit off the beaten path for me.  I don’t do medication changes if it can be helped and this has been no exception. Mostly out of personal protest hehe but this time it was physical reaction.  (Bad physical reaction.)  Top that with my obstinate insistence to remain unhospitalized and you get one horribly scrambled egg, over hard. (is that possible?)

Well, to make a long story short. (Is THAT possible?) I will be back to mouthing off soon. Once the residual physical effects have gone away I’ll be back to my old smartbutt self again. In the meantime I’ll be chock full of Benedryl and ??

….I’m feeling MUCH better now…

I’ve always wanted to say that. I’d be more fun if you got the facial expression that goes with it.  I’m not all the way back but soon. In the meantime, so you know I love you – click away. Laugh your ass off, I know I do – LOVE you some Higa, he’s a genius!

Benedryl makes me sleepy –  Peacy Outu,

-Egg

-Stacy

TEE HEE Much love, a true higaholic

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Better living through chemistry

Posted on July 29, 2011. Filed under: Miscellaneous, Musings | Tags: , , , , , , , , , |

I’ve been mute more or less since I moved my blog. For that I have no other explanation than … well I’ve had nothing kicking around in my head to spew forth. Spew. Ha! I like that word. If you knew me (or if you know me and ever bothered to listen to me,) you would know when I write it’s all about incessant noise in my head. I’ve no control over what I write, it just jumps out of my fingers (or pen) and tada! There it is. No editing, no forethought other than the “gremlin” in the back of my throat chanting a few lines to me about the beginning subject in general and MAYBE a tangent. SO having said that…

The gremlin stirred today.

I’m in the midst of a medication change. Yay. I have this strict “no hospitalization” policy and my shrink knows it. Changing my meds is like changing a tire with nothing but a paper clip, a pillow and a hammer. No telling how you’re going to get it done but you know you need to make progress. My shrink is the Ultimate MacGyver. I can MacGyver the CRAP out of objects; he fixes my head (at least enough for me to remain “safe for public consumption AND responsible for the process of producing a viable member of society.”)

Fear that. (Bitchin run on too, ya like that, huh, do ya?)

I crack up when people get wind of what I take in a day. I swear I have no gag reflex. (No, I’m not trying to get dates… I swallow a lot of meds, doing so all at once is just a time saver. It also limits the possibility that one of the uncoated bad boys will attach itself to the roof of my mouth –shudder-. )  Moving on… I’m so chemically compromised I have no idea what I’d be without them – other than a stark raving, mood swinging psychotic succubus that is.

So here I am in my wonderful “get 14 straight hours of sleep/stay up 24 hours/repeat” cycle of lovely blahblahblahidone and dahdahdahidol (mutherfu marcimallow says shut yo mouth) new medications. I, being the superstar that we all know I am (I use the term We in the Royal Singular,) decide I to go to the Soso Center. Smaaaart. It’s like 10 pm. I’m driving down the road with pulse pops (wth do you call them? Everything is fine then your pulse pounds erratically kind of staccato anywhere from once to maybe 5 or 6 times. When it happens to me it’s like a wince noise… kind of funny, not painful or anything. It feels like being startled. Probably has something to do with the assload of amphetamines I’ve been eating for years to counteract the butt-ton of sedative type stabilizers and anti-depressants I practically mainline. Ahh the joys of trying to act like you haha. I don’t mind, like I know any different?) So like I was saying, I’m driving down the road and the pops start to come and go, when they do the contrast of lights and pitch dark (I live in the sticks) begin to make me giggle. It was a weird effect. Like in a cartoon when things get bulged out slightly then back to normal, split second of that then again… again.  I’m snotting I’m laughing. It was about then I noticed the cartoon boogie men in the shadows near lit areas. Nothing scary (hallucinations are not an issue with me, I know them for what they are, always have so it’s not been something that has come up as any sort of problem to medicate.) So I’m digging on the whole black and white cartoon monster thing till I hit the highway to the SoSo Center.  Goodbye Boogiemen, was fun while it lasted. The light had banished them. I considered turning around but I’m pretty sure it was a one shot wonder. Things like that don’t repeat, that would be too fun!

I hit the greeter at Soso and I try to open my mouth to ask a question and, lucky me, I couldn’t say a word.  Cotton Mouth.

Nice

Side effects can eatit. I put my head on my arms over my purse in the basket while holding up the Hang On finger… dug for anything that would inspire slobber in the cavern I call a handbag and HAHA thanks again Hall’s. Their slobber drops (strawberry) work like magic. Of course I thought I was going to have to rub it on my eyeball to get it started but it did wind up working. I made it out of there in record time (for me) and was back on the road. NOTHING fun happened on the way home. Nothing.

I supposed I’ll call my shrink’s office tomorrow and moan and groan but not because of the carnival I’m starring in after dark, ONLY because I can’t hack this messed up over medicated, circadian boffing nightmare sleep cycle wrecking cocktail (;

I have no idea how you might take all of this, it’s a little off from my norm, it’s more personal than I’ve ever really been about me, don’t expect too much like this in the future. I think in a way I’m more curious about all of you so I’m offering something of myself. I see myself as normal. There’s nothing amiss or lacking about my life. I don’t pity me, feel as if life did me wrong, I think I’m lucky to be honest. I feel bad for most people and I don’t mean to condescend by saying that. Nature compensated me for what I lack in emotional stability and looking back I wouldn’t have it any other way. I KNOW certain things, I see things most don’t. I have a point of view that you can only get from looking sideways (so to speak) and yet I still can look through “normal” eyes. I’ve been on both sides of the society/outcast coin.

I think what the gremlin is trying to make me say (hehe) is:  I want to know if you think you’re weird or just me, what you think is normal, have you accepted who/what you are (I joyfully embrace it now,) How do you handle life – or can you?  Stuff like that, I have my answers, I wonder if other people do. I really would like to hear a “normal” (by that I mean non-mentally disturbed, imbalanced, psychotic) person’s take on ANYTHING.  Throw any answer in the comments, be anonymous if you wish, make up your own statement, but please, enlighten me!

-Spacy errr Stace Cadet wait, no

-egg

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Why it’s Greased Lightning!!!!!!!!!!

Posted on July 21, 2011. Filed under: Musings | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , |

Today’s been weird to say the least. I never thought myself to be a “blog” kind of person. I had one a while back. I was vapid and shallow, talked about ignorant material things (mainly because at time, I was vapid, shallow, ignorant and materialistic…)

Of course, I’m so past that now. (shh, I am.)

Today I found myself on the receiving end of a less than favorable blast of unwarranted verbal accusations. The pot was calling the tv black. I was not just thrown off but annoyed. The pot (who shall remain anon.) was accusing me (the tv) of doing what the pot had just done to me.  … huh… ?  I bit my tongue and decided to sit to the side and was hit with a spontaneous out of body experience (8 I flew through space and time into my purse in search of candy.  I was floating just above my wallet, about to enter an interior side pocket (I KNOW there were some tic tacs, maybe some of those halls strawberry slobber drops? in there) when I was SAVAGELY slammed back into my body with, “What’s your problem?”

I had no problem, I just looked blank I’m sure. I couldn’t very well tell him I was on a candy hunt on an astral plane. Things were really tense and I doubt he’d have gone for it. I tried to play it off but failed. I wound up explaining that I couldn’t say anything because no matter what I said he would play the martyr and villanize me then apologize for something that never really occurred just to portray me as “the asshole.” That opening my mouth was a lose/lose situation.

I prepared for the retaliation and what came made me freeze in my tracks for fear of the look on my face. What he retaliated with was..
What does martyr mean?
woah, I felt bad. I explained and we worked it out. We were fine it was just situational tension.

BUT

The INSTANT he asked that question an EXPLOSION of blogs shot through my head haha! I had all kinds of chaos writing, rewriting, flying off on tangents. My personal favorite was titled “Can I borrow a Christian?”
That particular bubble was centered around our misuse and abuse of the words martyr and “get off the cross” when confronted with whiny, pity partiers. I was thinking about how of all the offensive things you can do to a christian you NEVER hear them complain about people making light of their savior’s sacrifice. I’m guilty. I’ve asked a lot of people to hop off. I even mentioned it to Miss Isaiah at the gas station by my house. He said, “Giiiiiirl, I can’t tell him sorry for you – you got to get down on your KNEES!”  I thought wow, that’s not going to work. I respect the living shedoobie out of what others believe – doesn’t mean I share it… I said I thought She’d be more convincing than I would. In the time it took to snag a pint of banana pudding ice cream and split (yeah, pun blah blah) I’d practically started a revival!  …whoops…

You have to understand, I live in the middle of nowhere in the middle of some woods. Love the seclusion, we the wrecked and whacked out all seem to (8                    ANYway, if you talk to Jesus… I just want to say I didn’t mean to make light of the whole died for your sins thing, cool?

In the middle of all that about nine gazillion other ideas popped in my head, none panned out too richly or I’d be able to remember the topics. Point is, ever since I started this thing a few days ago it’s been squatting in the back of my head. A little gremlin chanting all kinds of fun things to write to me.
One in particular is the death trap that is my car. Literally my car is lethal. Two lives have been taken just by riding in my car. Literally. I poop you not. One made it from A to B sickened then gave up the ghost before dawn the next morning. The other never made it to B. Poor soul got in my car fine and healthy, came out dead.

I’m currently planning to offer my car to Homeland Security to use in questioning terrorist suspects while in transit to Guantanamo Bay (did I spell that right?) I figure if the death car can’t make them confess ALL their horrific deeds and secrets, nothing will.
It is my patriotic duty, wouldn’t you think? Of course our service men and women would be at risk… The only possibility for survival is up front, certainly in the driver’s seat.
On second thought, no… it’s too risky. We can’t put our troops’ lives in that kind of jeopardy. (UNLESS –  yeah – autopilot, robot drivers – awesome!)
Or not.  Just a thought.

I really need to keep track of all the tangents and mental spooge that flies through my head, I crack me up. If I could write as fast as I talk that would be awesome.
My prose/poetry/writen-stuff is all subliminal. I’ve no idea what it is till I go back and read it. That’s always fun.
I will try to grab the lightning and go on a real tear soon and let you see what it’s like to live in my bipolarass head – it’s never dull.
Times like this, it’s fun. When I whip out the “prose” it’s something from a dark place. Don’t assume my mood from what I post though. Just because I throw prose on here doesn’t necessarily mean I’m on a downswing. If I’m blathering like this you know I’m either in a good mood or the klonopin has kicked in.

Speaking of klonopin, it’s time, it’s time!

peacy outu

p.s. Why the silent treatment, leaving a comment of some sort is not only healthy, it gives the psychiatrically challenged writer of the blog validation, we feel that it’s a necessary step in the socialization process and would ultimately be nothing but beneficial to both parties involved. um.. Medically speaking of course.  yeah, that’s it.  yeah.

Signed,     Notta Shrink  B.S.md

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