Martha Stewart's Wedding Cakes, The Professional Collection: Volumes 1-34
This cookbook series is without a doubt the finest, most marriage affirming splediferous magnificitudical book set ever written in the history of printed literature.
Some accuse ol' MS of being overly far fetched and ridiculous, and waaay too elaborate. I say such criticism is misguided, given how easy to follow her careful instructions are on how we all can be just like her! The MS way needs to become everyone’s new standard of living, and Martha shows us how!
Her volume on barn building, for instance, to house the cow that will be later milked for the butter cream frosting doesn't leave the reader wandering the lumberyard like a dolt, but painstakingly guides the reader by the hand through the entire list of everything necessary to build a barn so fine it inspires many a jealous Amish bar fight when the happy couple is presented with it as a starter home wedding gift!!
A later volume treats the reader to Martha’s comprehensive instruction on how to research the lineage of the would- be butter provider, clearing the way for even those with no experience in genealogical investigation to secure absolutely the finest calf in all the land. Not even Martha’s psychiatrist is as fascinated by Martha’s passion for exploring in minute detail the calf selection process as I am, making this volume easily my favorite!!
The volume on growing then harvesting the grain that will both feed the cow and become the base for ALL of the cakes in this book was skimpy in comparison to all the other topics MS delves into on an almost cellular level. This was as surprising as it was disappointing. The first volume in the series, however, “Prefaces, Explanations, and Thank –You’s” explains why.
In the original draft, MS had included a detailed field guide to the weeds that would eventually need to be hand pulled from the garden & instructions on transforming them into wreaths, salads and homemade medicines. The legal team at the publishing house feared the threat of nuisance lawsuits from home grown antibiotic fatalities, so the grain volume became the quickest -and lightest- book in the entire set. Weighing in at only 14 ¼ pounds secures this volume’s title as the logical choice for bathroom reading material!!!
Martha more than redeems herself in the mortar and pestle construction volume! The kids and I bonded during the hundreds of leisurely weeks we spent scouring the countryside for dried up river beds in order to scavenge them for appropriately sized and shaped rocks. I don't mean to ruin the surprise, but this section includes a 6' x6' plastic laminated fold- out enclosure where you actually can compare your rock to Martha's. This portable tool made us feel as if Martha’s shining presence was actually with us in the poison ivy and mosquitoes!
Realizing how busy people are these days, she merrily gets the reader's focus back where it belongs and brings it all back to the cow and the critically important semen selection process. 'No Baby, No Butter!' that volume is cheerfully called. It does an excellent job making the reader feel right at home in the grubby world of semen collection, with many helpful hints to make this necessary aspect of biology just as elegant as all MS productions are.
Oh yes, this is the cookbook that will give you a PhD level knowledge of life. So next time you're at Barnes & Noble, bring your forklift with & buy this 34 volume set!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
Back to Why You Can’t Trust the “Experts” on Things They Know Nothing About
Alright, how ‘bout this? (Nice segue, huh? I just gotta keep blasting away or I’ll forget what I’m supposed to be writing about!) They are not experts in making such determinations about if hyper people are mentally ill or not, know why? Cuz I can take a pill that makes me ‘normal’, yet normal people can’t take a pill that makes ‘em hyper. Well, wait; maybe they can.
Dang it, I wish I didn’t run off all the normal people so early on! I have some questions for them about the effects on them of caffeine or meth or coke or the Ritalin they swipe from their kids. If you know any normal people you trust that you can grill for me, wouldja ask them these questions?
1) So when you take stimulants, do you turn into a happy little bunny with a safe, clean world, invisible details, yummy food that you like to eat and no dangers?
2) Is the world fun and exciting for you when you are on that stuff in a way that doesn’t preclude driving, shopping, holding up your end of a conversation, functioning, etc?
3) Do you ever feel like doing incredible, awesomely creative stuff, like develop complex theories that win you a Nobel prizes or curing crazy dangerous disease?
Cuz if you answered no to even one of those questions, then no, drugs don’t make you “hyper” they make you “have lots of energy”. Sheesh, only a normal person wouldn’t know that!
Now I’ve never done meth or coke or any illegal stimulants, cuz I’m WAY too afraid to. Speed makes my brain function like I’m normal, so I always figured if I took those, I’d get MASSIVELY addicted. To the new ability to find my car in the parking lot, to remember where I put my cell phone and car keys, to make it to appointments on time, and other such stuff all the normal people are able to do without altering their mental state.
But enough about me, back to normal people.
No. Back to ‘why you should believe me, not ‘the experts’ on the classification of ADHD and ADD’. OK, who is going to become a more proficient speaker of a foreign language- someone who learned everything he knows from a book or someone who moved to that country and picked it up as he went along through his exciting new life?
Duh.
If I can take a pill and be normal, yet I doubt they can take a pill and be like me (or even more cool stuff would already be invented and discovered by now) then why are they ‘right’ about what I am (‘mentally ill’) and I’m wrong and dumb cuz I didn’t finish college or go to med school?
So that right there should make them automatically less credible in your opinion. Add that to the shocking college expose on higher education that I’m gonna write one of these days, and you’ll have another piece of the puzzle.
Hey! Let’s talk about normal people, since they don’t read this anyway! How many normal people did it take to not only discover a way to extract radiation from wherever they found it, but to also figure out a way to harness it and make it do something useful like inventing x ray machines rather than merely dying of cancer from it; who then give birth to a normal person just like them, a daughter, who has stuff she discovered named after her on the periodic table of elements in addition to the stuff her parents named after her cuz they loved her?? Yeah, I know I’m so mean! NONE! The freakin’ hyper Curies did all that!
J’ever have a broken bone? Could you imagine if normal people had run medicine in the early days? Man alive, we’d still be at, “I’m gonna grab this arm you landed on when you fell out of the tree house, lemme know if it hurts!” for diagnostics! WHEW! Aren’t mentally ill people awesome?!? What month is hug a crazy person month? The whole year should be made entirely of ‘adopt a lunatic as a cherished member of your family’ days!
Sigh… what to tell you about from my wonderful, excellent life? I forgot what I’m supposed to be writing about!!
Oh, yeah. The experts. Yeah, they’re great.
Oh my stars, wouldn’t that be cool if I became an “expert” at something? Besides just being an expert on it all, I mean. I’m not going back to college, forget that. If Harvard called me tomorrow and offered me a free degree with no strings attached, I’d get a restraining order and change my phone number. I hope I don’t become a sell out when I’m fabulously wealthy from writing, laying on my bed, counting my diamonds and laughing in a new sounding way that I train myself to practice so I sound richer. Cuz I want to die without a diploma. If I die with a diploma? I’m really gonna hate myself.
I suck; I know exactly what’s gonna happen. There I’ll be; glaring darkly at the stable boy cuz he isn’t mopping the polo pony’s poo off my marble sidewalk fast enough. The phone will ring. Little Lucinda that I imported here illegally so I won’t have to pay whatever tax or benefits rich people are always getting trouble for not paying when they have household staff will answer it.
“meeses Deplunger?” she will timidly query, terrified I’ll beat her with a hair brush again because I’m mentally ill and only occasionally taking medication for it.
I will whirl around furiously. Then I will RUN toward her SUPER FAST cuz I’ve been standing around glaring darkly at the stable boy and now I have energy I need to burn.
She will cringe, shrieking and cowering, bringing her hands up to protect her face and head.
“I only leave internal bruising, I NEVER HIT IN THE FACE OR HEAD!” I will snap, raising my arm threateningly. In my hand will be an iron rod, coated with oil and diamonds, to help me remember how rich I am.
She’ll tearfully begin to stutter, “You hev a fen cell”, her eyes glued to my whompin’ stick.
“GET TO THE POINT BEFORE I BASH YOUR BRAINS IN YOU STUPID BEAST!” I’ll shriek at her in rage, wondering why I only have problems like this with the household help when I’m medicine free; wishing I could just slash her memory of the phone call right out of her head so I could just read it myself; it’d be so much freakin quicker that way!
“someone wants to give you a free diploma!” she’ll scream, fast; in perfect, accentless, unbroken English.
My eyes will narrow; sizing up the shaking, weeping girl curled up in a fetal position in front of my feet; I will feel a rush of gratitude that she remembered that I like to kick her along like a beach ball when I get explosively angry cuz being on hyper drugs makes me SERIOUS AND GRIM all the time!
All at once, I’ll realize she just told me I had a phone call. And I will ask myself the important questions that such an event demands. Like, ‘oh yeah; what did she say it was about? Why am I outside, anyway?’
“Lucinda!” I’ll snap firmly; a mounting disgust filling me as I realize she has just urinated on herself in terror. “LUCINDALUCINDALUCINDALUCINDA!” I’ll scream at the top of my lungs; “I don’t have the patience to wait for you to hear me, comprehend as slow as a normal person that I am saying your name, process as slow as a normal person what an appropriate course of action is, and then answer me! When I say your name, before I get to the second syllable I expect you to interrupt me just like I do all the time! Get it right, or I’ll get the tiller…”
At the mention of the word tiller, Lucinda’s eyes will grow huge with horror; then they’ll start to fill with tears, then before I can ask her ‘what’s going on? What question did I want to ask you again?’ she’ll repeat the phone message.
All at once, an immediate silence will blanket the yard. The ponies will stop nickering, turning their long necks around to look. The giraffes will stop stomping the coyote to death to look, turning their even loooooooonger necks around to look. Even the guy on the other side of the road will stop running his chainsaw, because he is finally done cutting his house in half cuz he is mentally ill and we do crazy stuff all the time!
I will look at Lucinda, making no attempt to hide the tears of gratitude welling in my eyes as I say, “you finally get me!”
Then I’ll take the diploma and write books about how college is super important and I was just kidding about all this to test the normal people to make sure they’d tow the party line and hate me for my anti college bias.
Dang it, I wish I didn’t run off all the normal people so early on! I have some questions for them about the effects on them of caffeine or meth or coke or the Ritalin they swipe from their kids. If you know any normal people you trust that you can grill for me, wouldja ask them these questions?
1) So when you take stimulants, do you turn into a happy little bunny with a safe, clean world, invisible details, yummy food that you like to eat and no dangers?
2) Is the world fun and exciting for you when you are on that stuff in a way that doesn’t preclude driving, shopping, holding up your end of a conversation, functioning, etc?
3) Do you ever feel like doing incredible, awesomely creative stuff, like develop complex theories that win you a Nobel prizes or curing crazy dangerous disease?
Cuz if you answered no to even one of those questions, then no, drugs don’t make you “hyper” they make you “have lots of energy”. Sheesh, only a normal person wouldn’t know that!
Now I’ve never done meth or coke or any illegal stimulants, cuz I’m WAY too afraid to. Speed makes my brain function like I’m normal, so I always figured if I took those, I’d get MASSIVELY addicted. To the new ability to find my car in the parking lot, to remember where I put my cell phone and car keys, to make it to appointments on time, and other such stuff all the normal people are able to do without altering their mental state.
But enough about me, back to normal people.
No. Back to ‘why you should believe me, not ‘the experts’ on the classification of ADHD and ADD’. OK, who is going to become a more proficient speaker of a foreign language- someone who learned everything he knows from a book or someone who moved to that country and picked it up as he went along through his exciting new life?
Duh.
If I can take a pill and be normal, yet I doubt they can take a pill and be like me (or even more cool stuff would already be invented and discovered by now) then why are they ‘right’ about what I am (‘mentally ill’) and I’m wrong and dumb cuz I didn’t finish college or go to med school?
So that right there should make them automatically less credible in your opinion. Add that to the shocking college expose on higher education that I’m gonna write one of these days, and you’ll have another piece of the puzzle.
Hey! Let’s talk about normal people, since they don’t read this anyway! How many normal people did it take to not only discover a way to extract radiation from wherever they found it, but to also figure out a way to harness it and make it do something useful like inventing x ray machines rather than merely dying of cancer from it; who then give birth to a normal person just like them, a daughter, who has stuff she discovered named after her on the periodic table of elements in addition to the stuff her parents named after her cuz they loved her?? Yeah, I know I’m so mean! NONE! The freakin’ hyper Curies did all that!
J’ever have a broken bone? Could you imagine if normal people had run medicine in the early days? Man alive, we’d still be at, “I’m gonna grab this arm you landed on when you fell out of the tree house, lemme know if it hurts!” for diagnostics! WHEW! Aren’t mentally ill people awesome?!? What month is hug a crazy person month? The whole year should be made entirely of ‘adopt a lunatic as a cherished member of your family’ days!
Sigh… what to tell you about from my wonderful, excellent life? I forgot what I’m supposed to be writing about!!
Oh, yeah. The experts. Yeah, they’re great.
Oh my stars, wouldn’t that be cool if I became an “expert” at something? Besides just being an expert on it all, I mean. I’m not going back to college, forget that. If Harvard called me tomorrow and offered me a free degree with no strings attached, I’d get a restraining order and change my phone number. I hope I don’t become a sell out when I’m fabulously wealthy from writing, laying on my bed, counting my diamonds and laughing in a new sounding way that I train myself to practice so I sound richer. Cuz I want to die without a diploma. If I die with a diploma? I’m really gonna hate myself.
I suck; I know exactly what’s gonna happen. There I’ll be; glaring darkly at the stable boy cuz he isn’t mopping the polo pony’s poo off my marble sidewalk fast enough. The phone will ring. Little Lucinda that I imported here illegally so I won’t have to pay whatever tax or benefits rich people are always getting trouble for not paying when they have household staff will answer it.
“meeses Deplunger?” she will timidly query, terrified I’ll beat her with a hair brush again because I’m mentally ill and only occasionally taking medication for it.
I will whirl around furiously. Then I will RUN toward her SUPER FAST cuz I’ve been standing around glaring darkly at the stable boy and now I have energy I need to burn.
She will cringe, shrieking and cowering, bringing her hands up to protect her face and head.
“I only leave internal bruising, I NEVER HIT IN THE FACE OR HEAD!” I will snap, raising my arm threateningly. In my hand will be an iron rod, coated with oil and diamonds, to help me remember how rich I am.
She’ll tearfully begin to stutter, “You hev a fen cell”, her eyes glued to my whompin’ stick.
“GET TO THE POINT BEFORE I BASH YOUR BRAINS IN YOU STUPID BEAST!” I’ll shriek at her in rage, wondering why I only have problems like this with the household help when I’m medicine free; wishing I could just slash her memory of the phone call right out of her head so I could just read it myself; it’d be so much freakin quicker that way!
“someone wants to give you a free diploma!” she’ll scream, fast; in perfect, accentless, unbroken English.
My eyes will narrow; sizing up the shaking, weeping girl curled up in a fetal position in front of my feet; I will feel a rush of gratitude that she remembered that I like to kick her along like a beach ball when I get explosively angry cuz being on hyper drugs makes me SERIOUS AND GRIM all the time!
All at once, I’ll realize she just told me I had a phone call. And I will ask myself the important questions that such an event demands. Like, ‘oh yeah; what did she say it was about? Why am I outside, anyway?’
“Lucinda!” I’ll snap firmly; a mounting disgust filling me as I realize she has just urinated on herself in terror. “LUCINDALUCINDALUCINDALUCINDA!” I’ll scream at the top of my lungs; “I don’t have the patience to wait for you to hear me, comprehend as slow as a normal person that I am saying your name, process as slow as a normal person what an appropriate course of action is, and then answer me! When I say your name, before I get to the second syllable I expect you to interrupt me just like I do all the time! Get it right, or I’ll get the tiller…”
At the mention of the word tiller, Lucinda’s eyes will grow huge with horror; then they’ll start to fill with tears, then before I can ask her ‘what’s going on? What question did I want to ask you again?’ she’ll repeat the phone message.
All at once, an immediate silence will blanket the yard. The ponies will stop nickering, turning their long necks around to look. The giraffes will stop stomping the coyote to death to look, turning their even loooooooonger necks around to look. Even the guy on the other side of the road will stop running his chainsaw, because he is finally done cutting his house in half cuz he is mentally ill and we do crazy stuff all the time!
I will look at Lucinda, making no attempt to hide the tears of gratitude welling in my eyes as I say, “you finally get me!”
Then I’ll take the diploma and write books about how college is super important and I was just kidding about all this to test the normal people to make sure they’d tow the party line and hate me for my anti college bias.
Friday, March 19, 2010
My Life as an Undercover Normal Person
OK. when I said when I take hyper drugs (so I can be calm and focused, just like when I mainline *caffeine) I said the worst thing was that laughter was superfluous, then decided I’d make you wait till this chapter to explain why that’s such a screaming tragedy for me. Nice segue, huh? Here goes!
*Caffeine. Y’know, when I was little, I never knew what anyone meant when they said caffeine “makes them hyper”. I never heard of that word before. So after extensive research as a young child, drinking coffee and coke and jolt, I decided that “hyper” meant “calm and focused”. When I got older, and heard people say caffeine “made them hyper” I’d wonder why they needed it then! They are walking portraits of calm and focused! Gimme a break, I’m the one that needs that!! Now back to the rest of this chapter.
By nature, I’m happy and excited most of the time, doesn’t that sound fun? Can you imagine how excellent life is for me? Every second of every day I just scamper around, all day long, happy and excited, like a little bunny rabbit hopping around, not in any danger from predators or from sex that only lasts 4 seconds. By nature, I gravitate toward stuff that makes me laugh, cuz it’s SO fun to be happy!
All the sudden, I take a pill in the morning, and not only am I unable to eat cuz I’m not interested AND now all the food tastes yucky, but the world is weird, and dirtier than I realized! Oh my stars! I actually have cabinet doors that need to be scrubbed! There is right now as I write this, actual garbage laying in my yard. Garbage! Can you believe it?!? A torn up milk container, an empty grape juice box. That stuff used to be invisible to me! I’m serious! If it’s not hurting anyone, or crawling with maggots, who cares, why is it even important? I literally couldn’t even see any of that stuff when I was a happy and excited little bunny rabbit! Now that I’m a grown up mama rabbit on Concerta, the world just sucks! The food all tastes like a combination of cardboard and mud, it is shockingly, horrifically filthy, there is so much to do here, it’s freakin’ overwhelming, no wonder so many normal people have ulcers!
Normal people pills elevate the trivial to heights of unparalleled importance. To a normal person, keeping the yard scrupulously clean is far more significant and rewarding an endeavor than something frivolous, like laughing. Laughter is something normal people roll out on special occasions, maybe.
Laughter doesn’t even fit into the space of normal people world. Do normal people go to concerts and comedy clubs and read funny stuff? How and when do they have the time or desire? When I went undercover as a normal person, I learned that I was incapable of anything but being serious and grim all the time.
On the drugs that made me normal, I could no longer multitask well enough to preserve my life. That’s why texting while THEY drive kills THEM. I can program my GPS to find me a gas station while I’m driving 75 miles an hour on an interstate about to change lanes to get in front of a semi in the pouring rain. Now see that? A normal person would read that and not only would they fail to see the humor in it, they’d actually be horrified by the danger and the possible illegality of such a thing.
They’re probably rooting through their phone book right now, looking up the non emergency number for their city’s police department so they can report me. MAKE SURE YOU SPELL MY FAKE NAME RIGHT TO THE PIG THAT ANSWERS THE PHONE, YOU UPTIGHT NORMAL PERSON! I WAS ON I- 294 HEADING TOWARD THE SUBURBS, SO YOU MIGHT AS WELL CALL THE COPS IN THE STATE OF ILLINOIS TOO, SO THEY CAN BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR ME! I DRIVE A 2007 SILVER TOYOTA COROLLA WITH INVISIBLE MUD THAT I’M NEVER GOING TO WASH OFF SMEARED ON ONE OF THE DOORS…I THINK THE DRIVER DOOR!
Shoot, that’s no fun. I forgot all of the normal people hate me for my anti college bias and they stopped reading early on. Ok, back to whatever I was talking about. Hate when that happens, gotta reread all this and see what my next logical topic for the next paragraph is going to be, for the benefit of all you ‘mentally ill’ people reading this that are not quite as hyper as me so it flows in a semi logical order. Yeah, that’s how I like to read stuff too, but I’m telling you; it is overwhelming getting the stuff I write into a sequence like that.
I wish I could leave this lengthy word maze I lovingly constructed to some normal editor to fish through and put in an order a normal person likes; that’s a skill I have to work too hard at to wanna mess with. There are far more interesting things going on in my head than moving paragraphs around! I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one that has a computer!
You know what I’m gonna buy if I ever make money selling what I write? I’m gonna buy me a normal person who is going to sit down with my rough draft and make it all go from one logical step to the next. Huh, guess I’m gonna hafta take out all the anti college stuff first, so they don’t get revenge sabotaging me inserting mean stuff in my masterpieces, like extra prepositions and semi colons I won’t even see and other sneaky things like that.
You see what I mean? I’m supposed to be writing about my life as an undercover normal person, and here I am, rambling on about whatever pops into my head. S’fun being a hopping little bunny rabbit!
OK, gotta write more words to make this thing long enough. What else did I learn during my time in the trenches?
Y’know what I thought the first time I took Concerta? (I’ll skip the sappy, weepy part when I was driving along a country road and I just started crying cuz I finally got experience an excellent, normal people life and wasn’t cynical enough to be shocked by how grubby and yucky things actually are here. That must have been a shopping day when that happened. When I first started doing Concerta it took quite a while for me to go right to my car in the parking lot and not sob gratefully; astonished that such a thing is even possible.) Ok, so after all that crying, chick stuff. (statistically, more guys than girls are as off the chart hyper as I am, so that makes me twice as awesome, in case you were keeping score!)
Dang it, forgot what I was gonna tell you about. Oh well, time for a short story!!
When I first took Concerta, I thought either I was SO hyper it just didn’t work for me, or that I was too old and my brain was so dug in the rut of not fitting into this normal people universe.
The reason I knee jerk concluded I was too far gone for drugs to be any help was cuz one day on drugs I was doing stuff like I’d do on a normal day without drugs. I was breaking up a fight between my kids while I dug through the shoe bucket we keep cuz 6 kids, they outgrow stuff fast and we save it for the next kid in line, cuz one kid needed “new” shoes while I was directing a stream of traffic of my other kids to put junk in the car cuz we had to go to Menard’s and return some PVC and my mom’s to give her back some thing I can’t remember what and the library to return some books, and food cuz someone in church just had a baby and they wanted some of Dolly’s special delicate inedibles though I can’t cook to save my life and the dog was barking cuz one of the kids was knocking on the table making him nuts and just then the phone rang and it was my mom and she was all like, (she’s more hyper than me, if you can believe that!) “when are you coming? What are you doing? What’s taking you so long? Are you bringing back my thing? What time will you be here?” And I was soooooooooo…
Man I can’t even tell ya.
When I’m not on drugs, I can do all that fine! But suddenly on drugs, I though my head was going to explode. No. that’s a cliché. I’ll try harder. I mean “frustrated” isn’t even a strong enough word. It was intensely, rippingly, grippingly beyond brain squeezingly homicidally pissed off aggravating; nah, that’s not strong enough either. I dunno. You know how it is if you’re focused on something, almost done, then someone comes along and throws a rabid skunk eating an onion on your project and blows a fan on you both just to see what you’d do? Yeah…it was kinda like that.
I just couldn’t take it, I shoved the phone at one of my kids, pushing him out the door with it and growled at him through gritted teeth “Talk to your grandma; answer every single question for her with out consulting me, then hang up and if anyone else calls I’m not here!” And then I had to start practicing this detestable new skill called, “only doing one thing at a time”
HEY, NORMAL PEOPLE! HOW IS YOUR SYSTEM SUPERIOR TO MINE?!?! Yeah, and I’m the crazy one…
All that stress for nothing! It turned out my doctor is one of those “experts” afraid I’ll get “addicted” cuz all the sudden in the middle of my life I show up with my hand out wanting stimulants. So he didn’t prescribe me a therapeutic level, but a cautious one instead. But don’t worry! I did my own experimentation and found out the dose I need.
Heh, heh, heh….
*Caffeine. Y’know, when I was little, I never knew what anyone meant when they said caffeine “makes them hyper”. I never heard of that word before. So after extensive research as a young child, drinking coffee and coke and jolt, I decided that “hyper” meant “calm and focused”. When I got older, and heard people say caffeine “made them hyper” I’d wonder why they needed it then! They are walking portraits of calm and focused! Gimme a break, I’m the one that needs that!! Now back to the rest of this chapter.
By nature, I’m happy and excited most of the time, doesn’t that sound fun? Can you imagine how excellent life is for me? Every second of every day I just scamper around, all day long, happy and excited, like a little bunny rabbit hopping around, not in any danger from predators or from sex that only lasts 4 seconds. By nature, I gravitate toward stuff that makes me laugh, cuz it’s SO fun to be happy!
All the sudden, I take a pill in the morning, and not only am I unable to eat cuz I’m not interested AND now all the food tastes yucky, but the world is weird, and dirtier than I realized! Oh my stars! I actually have cabinet doors that need to be scrubbed! There is right now as I write this, actual garbage laying in my yard. Garbage! Can you believe it?!? A torn up milk container, an empty grape juice box. That stuff used to be invisible to me! I’m serious! If it’s not hurting anyone, or crawling with maggots, who cares, why is it even important? I literally couldn’t even see any of that stuff when I was a happy and excited little bunny rabbit! Now that I’m a grown up mama rabbit on Concerta, the world just sucks! The food all tastes like a combination of cardboard and mud, it is shockingly, horrifically filthy, there is so much to do here, it’s freakin’ overwhelming, no wonder so many normal people have ulcers!
Normal people pills elevate the trivial to heights of unparalleled importance. To a normal person, keeping the yard scrupulously clean is far more significant and rewarding an endeavor than something frivolous, like laughing. Laughter is something normal people roll out on special occasions, maybe.
Laughter doesn’t even fit into the space of normal people world. Do normal people go to concerts and comedy clubs and read funny stuff? How and when do they have the time or desire? When I went undercover as a normal person, I learned that I was incapable of anything but being serious and grim all the time.
On the drugs that made me normal, I could no longer multitask well enough to preserve my life. That’s why texting while THEY drive kills THEM. I can program my GPS to find me a gas station while I’m driving 75 miles an hour on an interstate about to change lanes to get in front of a semi in the pouring rain. Now see that? A normal person would read that and not only would they fail to see the humor in it, they’d actually be horrified by the danger and the possible illegality of such a thing.
They’re probably rooting through their phone book right now, looking up the non emergency number for their city’s police department so they can report me. MAKE SURE YOU SPELL MY FAKE NAME RIGHT TO THE PIG THAT ANSWERS THE PHONE, YOU UPTIGHT NORMAL PERSON! I WAS ON I- 294 HEADING TOWARD THE SUBURBS, SO YOU MIGHT AS WELL CALL THE COPS IN THE STATE OF ILLINOIS TOO, SO THEY CAN BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR ME! I DRIVE A 2007 SILVER TOYOTA COROLLA WITH INVISIBLE MUD THAT I’M NEVER GOING TO WASH OFF SMEARED ON ONE OF THE DOORS…I THINK THE DRIVER DOOR!
Shoot, that’s no fun. I forgot all of the normal people hate me for my anti college bias and they stopped reading early on. Ok, back to whatever I was talking about. Hate when that happens, gotta reread all this and see what my next logical topic for the next paragraph is going to be, for the benefit of all you ‘mentally ill’ people reading this that are not quite as hyper as me so it flows in a semi logical order. Yeah, that’s how I like to read stuff too, but I’m telling you; it is overwhelming getting the stuff I write into a sequence like that.
I wish I could leave this lengthy word maze I lovingly constructed to some normal editor to fish through and put in an order a normal person likes; that’s a skill I have to work too hard at to wanna mess with. There are far more interesting things going on in my head than moving paragraphs around! I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one that has a computer!
You know what I’m gonna buy if I ever make money selling what I write? I’m gonna buy me a normal person who is going to sit down with my rough draft and make it all go from one logical step to the next. Huh, guess I’m gonna hafta take out all the anti college stuff first, so they don’t get revenge sabotaging me inserting mean stuff in my masterpieces, like extra prepositions and semi colons I won’t even see and other sneaky things like that.
You see what I mean? I’m supposed to be writing about my life as an undercover normal person, and here I am, rambling on about whatever pops into my head. S’fun being a hopping little bunny rabbit!
OK, gotta write more words to make this thing long enough. What else did I learn during my time in the trenches?
Y’know what I thought the first time I took Concerta? (I’ll skip the sappy, weepy part when I was driving along a country road and I just started crying cuz I finally got experience an excellent, normal people life and wasn’t cynical enough to be shocked by how grubby and yucky things actually are here. That must have been a shopping day when that happened. When I first started doing Concerta it took quite a while for me to go right to my car in the parking lot and not sob gratefully; astonished that such a thing is even possible.) Ok, so after all that crying, chick stuff. (statistically, more guys than girls are as off the chart hyper as I am, so that makes me twice as awesome, in case you were keeping score!)
Dang it, forgot what I was gonna tell you about. Oh well, time for a short story!!
When I first took Concerta, I thought either I was SO hyper it just didn’t work for me, or that I was too old and my brain was so dug in the rut of not fitting into this normal people universe.
The reason I knee jerk concluded I was too far gone for drugs to be any help was cuz one day on drugs I was doing stuff like I’d do on a normal day without drugs. I was breaking up a fight between my kids while I dug through the shoe bucket we keep cuz 6 kids, they outgrow stuff fast and we save it for the next kid in line, cuz one kid needed “new” shoes while I was directing a stream of traffic of my other kids to put junk in the car cuz we had to go to Menard’s and return some PVC and my mom’s to give her back some thing I can’t remember what and the library to return some books, and food cuz someone in church just had a baby and they wanted some of Dolly’s special delicate inedibles though I can’t cook to save my life and the dog was barking cuz one of the kids was knocking on the table making him nuts and just then the phone rang and it was my mom and she was all like, (she’s more hyper than me, if you can believe that!) “when are you coming? What are you doing? What’s taking you so long? Are you bringing back my thing? What time will you be here?” And I was soooooooooo…
Man I can’t even tell ya.
When I’m not on drugs, I can do all that fine! But suddenly on drugs, I though my head was going to explode. No. that’s a cliché. I’ll try harder. I mean “frustrated” isn’t even a strong enough word. It was intensely, rippingly, grippingly beyond brain squeezingly homicidally pissed off aggravating; nah, that’s not strong enough either. I dunno. You know how it is if you’re focused on something, almost done, then someone comes along and throws a rabid skunk eating an onion on your project and blows a fan on you both just to see what you’d do? Yeah…it was kinda like that.
I just couldn’t take it, I shoved the phone at one of my kids, pushing him out the door with it and growled at him through gritted teeth “Talk to your grandma; answer every single question for her with out consulting me, then hang up and if anyone else calls I’m not here!” And then I had to start practicing this detestable new skill called, “only doing one thing at a time”
HEY, NORMAL PEOPLE! HOW IS YOUR SYSTEM SUPERIOR TO MINE?!?! Yeah, and I’m the crazy one…
All that stress for nothing! It turned out my doctor is one of those “experts” afraid I’ll get “addicted” cuz all the sudden in the middle of my life I show up with my hand out wanting stimulants. So he didn’t prescribe me a therapeutic level, but a cautious one instead. But don’t worry! I did my own experimentation and found out the dose I need.
Heh, heh, heh….
Monday, February 8, 2010
So What’s Wrong with Being Normal, (Besides the Obvious)?
Yup, most days on the calendar I thank GOD I’m hyper. I think my ability to write stems from the screwed up non normal way my brain works. When I didn’t know I was hyper, I could write, (And MAN did I used to be FUNNY!!) Then I became enlightened, and went on Concerta and Ritalin and all that other pharmaceutical speed I love, and no longer could. I mean, I could write shopping lists, to do lists, action plans, orders for the kids, etc, but nothing was funny! It all SUCKED!! I was either going to have to invent yet another alias to write for Keavin under, (“Boring Girl!” Reviews for people that like to read newspaper articles about stuff they aren’t especially interested in!) or I was going to have to just quit without notice and take speed all day. Wisely, I chose the latter option.
Hard to explain why, it makes no sense to me now that I’m back on tourist status. I’m used to having a screwed up brain, but that junk screwed up my brain so much that… it wasn’t that I didn’t get the joke, it was just that (dramatic, mounting horror music) I just had no interest in the joke at all!
Now I doubt any normal people are still reading this, cuz they all were able to graduate from college, and hate my guts for being so vicious that I’d DARE stab at their sacred cows. So probably none of them can confirm what I just said is exactly true. I don’t know if I’m talented enough to tell you what I mean by laughter being superfluous, and why that was such a huge big deal to me, but I’ll try….. in the next chapter.
For now, I’ll get back to shredding on the “experts”.
No, wait; I can’t. No why? Cuz I’m hyper and am bored of this topic. If I don’t move on to something that interests me, I’m likely to skip writing about this topic, then who will warn you?!
Hard to explain why, it makes no sense to me now that I’m back on tourist status. I’m used to having a screwed up brain, but that junk screwed up my brain so much that… it wasn’t that I didn’t get the joke, it was just that (dramatic, mounting horror music) I just had no interest in the joke at all!
Now I doubt any normal people are still reading this, cuz they all were able to graduate from college, and hate my guts for being so vicious that I’d DARE stab at their sacred cows. So probably none of them can confirm what I just said is exactly true. I don’t know if I’m talented enough to tell you what I mean by laughter being superfluous, and why that was such a huge big deal to me, but I’ll try….. in the next chapter.
For now, I’ll get back to shredding on the “experts”.
No, wait; I can’t. No why? Cuz I’m hyper and am bored of this topic. If I don’t move on to something that interests me, I’m likely to skip writing about this topic, then who will warn you?!
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