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2003-12-23 @ 1:18 p.m.
pms powered christmas shopping

Dear God:

Thank you so much for letting me have PMS the week before Christmas. It has given me soooo much energy and has enabled me to get so much done.

I mean how else could I have had the energy to knock down old women out in mall parking lots and poke yuppie guys in the ribs as they take out their platinum VISA cards, causing them to drop to the floor and letting me get ahead of them in line.

And lets not forget about that unbridled road rage I feel everytime I look for a parking spot near the door at Christmas. What was that bump I just hit? Santa on a cigarette break? Tough break, Santa. Smoking kills, ya know.

It really was my own damn fault that I decided 45 minutes before my shrink appointment that I needed to race to Barnes and Nobles to get him a gift certificate. In my defense I have been pretty sick the last 5 days.

But leaving myself a mere 12 minutes (minus travel time) to get over to B&N, pick out a little gift card (not much of a visually pleasing selection) and then getting into a line which stretched from the cheap, crappy books that grandmas get for their grandkids ("The Pictorial History of Fire Hydrants"), all the way back to the psychology section "Bad Choices by Good Women who Selected Bad Men Who Love Good Women Who Still Lust After Bad Men", I was a little stressed.

Plus I could still only breathe out of one nostril and looked like they had just dug me up from a caved in mine.

And also I hadn't written out my Christmas card to him yet, despite the fact, that it had been sitting on my bed for 10 days. So after I left the store, I put pen to paper at every stop light. That's either called multi-tasking or sheer stupidity. Humor me here. It's 2 freakin' days til Christmas.

But I did manage to write a heart felt note. He's really is an important part of my life. He helps to keep me in an upright position and this has been a particularly tough year for me.

I had some major problems with a scurvy landlord this year. I lived in an apartment that was growing anthrax. My Dad passed away in March. And with that I lost a rather large inheritance to a filippino mail order whore, who had hooked her claws into my Dad and dragged him over to the Philippines just as his Alzheimer's worsened.

I had my ongoing feelings for Married Guy. Or obsession as my shrink likes to describe it. And then the recent bout of touchie feelies with Zenshrink.

And all this plus the usual ups and downs of a bipolar hemmed in by a wacky, self absorbed mother.

So its been a year. And I thanked him for it. He had actually trimmed down all his appointments today to 15 minutes so he could see everyone before he went on vacation and that was fine. We got a lot in.

We mainly talked about the artbook guy I had met at my figure drawing class and how I should pounce on every guy opportunity that presents itself. Because once guys get a busy signal they don't usually call back. Right, guys?

He also touched on the Zenshrink situation. He very slowly said that Zenshrink thought that some of my sexuality that has been bursting forth via the Married Guy might have made me take what he did wrong, but he did say that he did believed me, which is really important to me. He also said he was very blunt with Zenshrink, and liked him even less now and if he ever attempted to contact me in any way, to call him, even though he's on vacation for the next two weeks, and he will "do something about it".

Yeah....street brawl. Shrink vs. shrink. Knives vs. switchblades. Passats vs. Volvos. Ok, well, maybe not quite, but I know my shrink could definitely thump the other guy's ass, if not physically, than at least through official be forewarned Zen-nuts.

Afterwards we exchanged gifts. I gave him the B&N gift card and he gave me a cool little wrought iron candle holder, which is so totally me. And he gave me my yearly pep talk for the coming year. Things will be getting better. You're a nice looking, funny, intelligent woman and people are going to notice that. And I had to promise that I would make an effort to mingle with the opposite sex and even ask the artguy out for coffee the next time I see him.

cough, cough, gasp, arghhh!

And as I was sitting on the couch gasping and cowering at the very thought of doing something so utterly alarming, he added, "Good. I know you always do everything I say."

Yeah, we definitely have that master/subserviant thing going on for sure. And then we had a nice hug. Down transference fantasy. Down.

And then as I was leaving he had to go and ask the artguy's name and would you believe I once again blurted out Married Guy's name? Fruck. What is wrong with me? I guess I am obsessed just a wee bit.

We'll blame that one on PMS!

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty