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10:36 a.m. - 2004-05-08
Either that or it was a doctor and was pissed that I called him mister.
So.

Take that seretonin receptor bitches!

More. More paxil. A goopy, liquid buffer between my brain and my skull is what it feels like. I care a little to a lot less about things, shitty or good, but…um…who cares? I guess?

You know that commercial for prozac or whatever the fuck that has the little circle/rock thing who is depressed? He is bumping along with a frown crudely drawn on his little face, no longer delighted by the things that used to make him happy. This is demonstrated for potential drug slave/customers by a ladybug flying near him (everybody gets cheered up by a ladybug) but failing to lift the spirits of the poor little chap. Then, off camera, the circle, who I am calling he/him because of our patriarchal society-not because any indication of genitalia is apparent, takes him some meds that change his whole out look back to the fun loving oval he used to be (before he figured out life is all bullshit).

Well, back on camera, the ladybug revisits our hero and he loves that little winged, spotted sombitch.

CURED!

Well sir, yesterday I was at the shop and a ladybug landed right on my arm.

“Now’s my chance to gage my recovery!” I thought to myself.

I used to love ladybugs. When you are a kid a ladybug in your hand is almost as good as staying up past your bedtime on a school night, but now I’m done grown, son. So I used my powerful recollect to journey back to days when I better related to these bugs as a wee lad.

First step, obviously, is to address the beast. This is easy, because every animal has the surname of their species, and since this was an introduction first names would be inappropriate anyway. Sooo….

“Hey Mr. Ladybug”

What’s next?

Oh yeah! Count the spots!

One, two, three, four, five…does that one count?…sure, why the fuck not, six.

Six spots.

Okay, I guess now I just enjoy the tickling sensation of it crawling through my arm hairs and admire it’s red—HEY! OUCH!

Yes. The motherfucker bit me. Don’t fucking argue with me and tell me that ladybugs don’t bite, because I believed that crap too right up until yesterday. It bit me. I held it close to my face to be sure, and yep, the little bitch had his mandibles pinching away.

Now, while it didn’t hurt my arm very much, (think a sugar ant pinch) it did crush my faith in modern medicine.

As far as I can guess, I got the Joe Pesci of the ladybugs. I could just hear him screaming “What the fuck!? What am I your clown? I’m here to amuse you? I’m here to cheer you up? FUCK YOU HUMAN!! *chomp* FUCK YOU! Hows about you cheer me up? DANCE MOTHERFUCKER! I SAID DANCE! *chomp*”

Fucking universe.

 

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