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2003-10-14 @ 2:12 p.m.
two scary events in one day

I usually like to bitch about my Tuesday shrink appointments being too short, but I think if today's appointment was any longer, paramedics would have had to have been called in.

I was shaking for about 10 minutes after I left. Why?

Well, after 7 years of working with my shrink I think we finally hit the nail on the head. I'm afraid of intimacy.


And we proved it today. In a big way. I came in, kind of bragging about having such an awesome week. Getting rid of the fleas, getting the rent deposit back and almost before my butt hit the couch, we were launching into the penis conversation.

Well, that's ok. That's what I'm here for I guess. To clear the debris. But then he used the dreaded "d" word (dildo) and then the "e" word (ejaculation). Well, eeww.

And then he did the thing that left me shivering. No don't worry, he's a nice guy, he's not going to do anything bad. He came and sat on the edge of the coffee table, knee to knee with me (not touching, just facing each other), and I had to have eye contact with him for nearly 15 minutes.


That was hard. Very hard. Usually we sit in chairs that don't face each other. I couldn't be glib. I couldn't make jokes. I had to be a real person. Yikes!

Fortunately I was able to get out most of the reason it scared me. Making eye contact with someone makes you vulnerable. Eye contact makes it real. People can see the real you. People can reject you, if they see the real you. I explained my fear about being rejected by him. This rejection thing is nothing new for me. I always feel like I'm on the verge of rejection by everyone, even if there's absolutely no reason for it. He said he wouldn't reject me. I still had problems making eye contact though. It was a masterful piece of shrinking. A virtuoso performance. But it still left me shaking and wanting to puke. Imagine me letting someone in.

Afterwards, since I like making my life as terrifying as possible all in the same day, I went to another scary place. You know how all over America, in the month of October, there are haunted houses and haunted hayrides and other places that are likely to scare the beJesus out of you. Well, I went to one of these places. It was called:

The Food Stamp Office.

Brrrrr. Scary. The admission was free, but it was far scarier than any haunted house, I've ever seen.

Take the path to the counter for instance. Pushing through crowds of dead faced people moaning. MMMmmmmm.MMMMotherfuckermmmmmmmYommmmmmmmmmMotherfuckermmmmm.

They're all talking on cell phones and refusing to get out of the way. The din is deafening but its the screams of the baby foodstamp ghosts that is really scary. And then the mommy foodstamp ghosts screaming "shut the fuck up or I'll whoop yo fucking ass" to said, baby foodstamp ghosts.


There were a few daddy foodstamp ghosts. I actually passed the time by counting how many of them were wearing Sean John (Puff Daddy) shirts.

Of course, there was nothing quite as scary as the witches BEHIND the counters. They saved the best for last. After waiting 35 minutes amongst the minions, I am thrust towards a woman who hates me more than life itself, for no other reason than I exist.

"Who's your worker", she said in a voice that only demon dogs and Beetlejuice could hear.

I stuttered. "I don't know. I don't deal with her very often."

The woman with red glowing eyes just glared at me and said, "OK, well what's your social security number you good for nothing, scum sucking, bottom dwelling, we should be using your food stamps to fund the war in Iraq you fucking leech-bitch-mother-fucking-I-hate-my-job-leave-me-alone-I-want-to-go-to-a-clock-tower-and-shoot-all-of-you"

Well, at least that's what I thought I heard.

I whispered it out and she looked it up...SINCE THATS HER JOB. And come to find out I could have just handed all the stuff I brought with me to the receptionist when I came in, instead of waiting for 35 minutes.

At least now I won't have to spend money on the Howling Hayride, since one scary event in October is enough.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty