March 12, 2004

This week I officially started my therapy sessions. My hatred of my job has reached an all-time high and the other day I actually called into work and spent the ENTIRE day in bed. 

My therapist seems cool even if she's into the New Age/hippie philosophy.  At least her office doesn't smell of patchouli.  She does, however, burn candles and incense.  She even has a corner with scarves draped everywhere.  They seem to form a tent that I guessed was for meditating.  God help me!! Unfortunately she said more than once that she was a lot like me...scary.  This woman is supposed to be helping me solve my problems...not relating to them. This should be a definite treat.

She told me that I needed to start writing down things that I'm thankful for every day.  I had a hard time coming up with the list.  She suggested writing things like, "I drank a lot of water today or I went for a nice, long walk."  I was thinking more along the lines
of, "I'm thankful I didn't kill my boss today or I'm thankful I still have my arms and legs and that I'm not forced to panhandle on the street...yet."  She said that was too drastic.  Apparently I'm a negative person, living in my wounded child.  Who knew!!

Last week, my dad sent me an "I'm sorry I made you cry" Hallmark card.  Apparently the guilt has finally gotten the best of him.  Each and every time I go home the man brings up some sordid memory from my past and continues to harp on it until I feel so guilty that I break down in tears. 

He normally rehashes the time that I had a party at the house while he and my mother were at a conference in Philadelphia.  First off, it technically wasn't a party.  There were four girls including myself in the house watching movies.  We weren't even drinking.  I had just told a lie and told everyone that I was staying at a friends' house and instead invited everyone to my house.  It was a good time until one of the girls accidentally set off the house alarm.  The police showed up and insisted on searching the house because, he "didn't want to have to come back in the morning and find four girls laid out like Nicole Brown Simpson."  Afterwards he apparently got a hold of my
relatives who in turn called my parents and told them the "disappointing news." 

This upsets me, not because I actually feel bad for what I did but because my brothers have all done way worse.  Three of my brothers have been caught smoking pot...the other one even went as far as to snort coke and take a few hits of ecstasy (all at once), leading him to admit his drug habits to my parents.  Anyway, this is never brought up and has inevitably been swept under the family rug while I continually pay penance for having four girls over for a slumber party I had in the tenth grade. 

Those Charleston bastards have struck again.  This time they've decided to raise our sewer rates by 64 percent.  As if paying the dollar a week user fee weren't enough, the assholes had to jack up our sewer bills.  Now instead of costing me $17 dollars to flush the toilet, it's going to cost a whopping $30 dollars!!  Guess I'll be pissing outside from now on!!

Speaking of urinating outdoors, why is it that men choose to do this, rather than walk 15 yards to the bathroom??  This was a constant problem when I was growing up.  I have five younger brothers, all of whom peed outside during the warmer months.  If they were in the house, they'd walk outside to pee.  It got so bad one year that my mom popped a squat in the backyard and asked everyone how it looked.  Bad thing is, she did more than pee.  Apparently the shit fairy struck and she couldn't help but pop out a turd. Mmmm, nice!!  Unfortunately, it didn't do anything to curb the peeing trend either.

I've noticed the low-carb kick has reached an all-time high.  The other day I saw a commercial for sugar-free Creamsavers...it has zero sugar-carbs.  Yes, this may be true but what about all the calories.  My favorite is Eat-n-Park's low carb breakfast.  A feast of eggs, bacon and sausage, with none of the bread to fill you up but all of the cholesterol to clog your arteries. 

Those damn Girl Scout cookies have arrived.  Adam ordered a few boxes from a co-worker and I have to admit one full box is already gone.  I'm convinced those things are laced with crack because NO ONE can eat just one. 

I remember my Brownie and Girl Scout days...walking door to door to sell those delicious little treats.  I was surprised to learn when I went back to work at the grade school that kids are no longer allowed to sell door to door.  How they expect them to sell the hoards of wrapping paper and shitty Christmas ornaments, I don't know but apparently since the much-publicized abductions, fear of kidnapping has run rampant, even in the hills of West Virginia.  Well, I'm off for a weekend of laziness.  If you feel the need, drop me a line at randiwvu@yahoo.com


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