2006-02-21 @ 11:22 p.m.
Usually at this precise moment I am just settling into my shrink appointment. Tuesday morning. Settling into the nicely upholstered wing chair overlooking the Kandinski painting.
My shrink is sitting onto the Big Kahuna chair, which he won't share. We've tried that. Me wanting to sit in the Big Chair, but no dice. Maybe it vibrates or something.
He always says "What's happening?" and I'm usually at a loss for words initially.
I'm really fascinating, ya see. And then he'll try to escalate things because we only have a half hour.
"What's going on Witty?"
And then he'll start taking notes on his laptop. I've always wondered what the heck he's writing about, because I certainly don't have anything interesting to say.
Is he writing a grocery list? Is he writing "All work and no play, makes "A" a dull boy"? Or is he just furiously tapping notes but really dreaming about driving a
in the passenger seat?
Yeah, that's probably it, since I'm so freakin' boring. So then sometimes I will change gears and head for every shrink's favorite subject: sex. I figure hey, why not include the groovy baby parts. The spank me Felicity parts. The...
And I know he secretly says, yes, yes. YES!... finally something to keep me from falling asleep.
So he gets all the gory details...me flashing the cute guy in the building across the courtyard. Me wearing out the batteries on Big Ed, the super sonic extra deluxe nirvana vibrator that sends signals to Mars. Me talking about my intense need to do naked snow angels out by the birdfeeders in the yard. I am so much more interesting, when I talk about sex.
See his expression?
So my half hour session soon ends. I always have to promise I will start pursuing other interests and start considering that infernal sMatch.com thingie. And we agree that these suggestions are awesome. (which they are).
And then I prepare myself for another 6.75 days of boredom, punctuated with occasional masturbation and chocolate consumption, only in anticipation for my next shrink appointment.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty