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Dribbles and Grits to Crumpets and Bollocks: Happy Pills for all the Assholes! Make it happen!

Happy Pills for all the Assholes! Make it happen!

So yesterday, I had a horrific migraine most of the day. I suffered through it at the kids' school Valentine's Day Party (that's suffrage people), but once the kids were laying down... I had plans to hang with a friend last night, so I couldn't over medicate. I really swore this migraine was tension related, even if most of them anymore are not, and I was tense. I tried to make the husband rub my back and all it did was make his hands hurt.

So I took half of a Flexeril, muscle relaxer. Now these usually make me loopy, like imagine if the blond from all the dumb blond jokes were real and dyed her hair brown, that would be me on muscle relaxers. But they killed the migraine within 20 minutes, and every time I'm in a lot of pain like that and it goes away that fast, I get a buzz from that alone. The epidural gave me a huge buzz because we are talking a huge pain that just went away. Aleve will sometimes give me a buzz if my period cramps are bad enough. It's one of those buzzes that's like being high as a kite mixed with having a couple drinks. I just become one fucking happy bitch, like a severe case of the happy and wonderfuls.

One thing I swear all that did to me last night... I would almost swear everyone was on drugs, at least the nice people were.

Before heading over to my friend's house, I had some other errands to run. I took that muscle relaxer, went to BP (for the blue zombie drinks) and talked to a girl who I would swear was high. I go to Walmart (diapers and beer), and I talked to a woman who was suffering from MOM, but I think she was on some sort of prescribed happy pill or antianxiety med. Then I talked to a dude who was definitely on some sort of speed, like energy drinks, diet pills and cocaine. Like he didn't have the attention span to listen to himself finish what he was saying. Regardless, all those people were the nicest people.

Then I left my wallet at the counter because I do stuff like that with a pain be gone buzz, so some guy chases me out the door screaming at me to give me back my wallet, and he stopped me right next to these people socializing at Walmart because that's where you go to mingle. It was a cluster of women, the ones who inspired that guy to write the "you think you're cooler than me" song, high maintenance, low IQ... If they were moms, they'd be June Cleavers because they think they are cooler than me. The one dude in that group was looking at me like I was on crack "you forgot your wallet?" and I smiled and was like, "Migraine." He smiled and nodded like, "Awww," like he totally got it. The girls then looked at me like I was Satan walking in their church. How dare I speak to their really cool super awesome guy (who I think might of had a couple drinks), and one said something nasty that I totally ignored as I walked off, and all I could think was, "I bet they'd be nicer if they were medicated. Like we should make it law to force assholes into taking happy pills."

I really think I'm on to something, like a cure for asshattery.

On a more serious note, ladies... Why would a man surrounded by "beautiful" women ignore them to pay attention to the girl in black pants and a dark blue MedExpress t-shirt with a black leopard print jacket? My hair was crazy too, and I had makeup under my eyes. Why? Because women need to understand, you can't cover ugly with make-up and fashion. If your personality is the reason people created words like cunt, and a guy is with you at all, he probably cheats on you to get a break from you. I mean really, if the best thing you have to offer people about yourself is what anyone can buy from a cheap whore, you have nothing to offer. That is why men with women like that stop to pay attention to women like me. It's because I'm not an asshole. Men, while they really do like boobs and ass, deep down inside, they like women who are confident. I don't have to tear people down to make myself appear taller.

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Dribbles and Grits to Crumpets and Bollocks: Happy Pills for all the Assholes! Make it happen!

Friday, February 15, 2013

Happy Pills for all the Assholes! Make it happen!

So yesterday, I had a horrific migraine most of the day. I suffered through it at the kids' school Valentine's Day Party (that's suffrage people), but once the kids were laying down... I had plans to hang with a friend last night, so I couldn't over medicate. I really swore this migraine was tension related, even if most of them anymore are not, and I was tense. I tried to make the husband rub my back and all it did was make his hands hurt.

So I took half of a Flexeril, muscle relaxer. Now these usually make me loopy, like imagine if the blond from all the dumb blond jokes were real and dyed her hair brown, that would be me on muscle relaxers. But they killed the migraine within 20 minutes, and every time I'm in a lot of pain like that and it goes away that fast, I get a buzz from that alone. The epidural gave me a huge buzz because we are talking a huge pain that just went away. Aleve will sometimes give me a buzz if my period cramps are bad enough. It's one of those buzzes that's like being high as a kite mixed with having a couple drinks. I just become one fucking happy bitch, like a severe case of the happy and wonderfuls.

One thing I swear all that did to me last night... I would almost swear everyone was on drugs, at least the nice people were.

Before heading over to my friend's house, I had some other errands to run. I took that muscle relaxer, went to BP (for the blue zombie drinks) and talked to a girl who I would swear was high. I go to Walmart (diapers and beer), and I talked to a woman who was suffering from MOM, but I think she was on some sort of prescribed happy pill or antianxiety med. Then I talked to a dude who was definitely on some sort of speed, like energy drinks, diet pills and cocaine. Like he didn't have the attention span to listen to himself finish what he was saying. Regardless, all those people were the nicest people.

Then I left my wallet at the counter because I do stuff like that with a pain be gone buzz, so some guy chases me out the door screaming at me to give me back my wallet, and he stopped me right next to these people socializing at Walmart because that's where you go to mingle. It was a cluster of women, the ones who inspired that guy to write the "you think you're cooler than me" song, high maintenance, low IQ... If they were moms, they'd be June Cleavers because they think they are cooler than me. The one dude in that group was looking at me like I was on crack "you forgot your wallet?" and I smiled and was like, "Migraine." He smiled and nodded like, "Awww," like he totally got it. The girls then looked at me like I was Satan walking in their church. How dare I speak to their really cool super awesome guy (who I think might of had a couple drinks), and one said something nasty that I totally ignored as I walked off, and all I could think was, "I bet they'd be nicer if they were medicated. Like we should make it law to force assholes into taking happy pills."

I really think I'm on to something, like a cure for asshattery.

On a more serious note, ladies... Why would a man surrounded by "beautiful" women ignore them to pay attention to the girl in black pants and a dark blue MedExpress t-shirt with a black leopard print jacket? My hair was crazy too, and I had makeup under my eyes. Why? Because women need to understand, you can't cover ugly with make-up and fashion. If your personality is the reason people created words like cunt, and a guy is with you at all, he probably cheats on you to get a break from you. I mean really, if the best thing you have to offer people about yourself is what anyone can buy from a cheap whore, you have nothing to offer. That is why men with women like that stop to pay attention to women like me. It's because I'm not an asshole. Men, while they really do like boobs and ass, deep down inside, they like women who are confident. I don't have to tear people down to make myself appear taller.

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