I woke up quite suicidal this morning…
…but soon after, the dog needed to be walked and it was such a lovely morning that I couldn’t imagine things being so bad that I would want to be laid out on a medical examiner’s table by the end of the day and with morning suicides, you can pretty much guarantee a trip to the ol’ slab by dusk.
Odd…that I should wake up suicidal…I was writing a new stand up routine last night before I fell asleep. I was giddy and looking forward to performing at the Comedy Store. Then I woke up all melancholy. This morning was the yin to last night’s yan.
Oh well, I’m still here. No thanks to my Twitter friends, BTW. I tweeted twice that I was gonna off myself if no one gave me a reason not to and no one did. Then, in one last desperate effort, I tweeted by plans to Ashton Kutcher who obviously doesn’t care anymore about me than any of my other twit friends. Thanks Ash.
It wasn’t fear that stopped me, I’m not afraid of my personal method of self slaughter…but I am worried about who’s gonna take the dog out next. And the poor thing can’t open the dog food cans…not even those new ones with the pull-off tops.
Whatever. I think I’ll deal with suicide like I’ve dealt with tattoos for 30 years…I’ll just do it tomorrow. I still don’t have a tattoo and if suicide procrastination works half as well, that’ll send me into my mid 60′s. I’ll probably re-evaluate things at that point.
Now, I don’t want anyone to think that just because I have morning fantasies of dieing ingloriously, that it in any way implies that I’m nuts. I’m not. I’m simply weighing options and as an intelligent adult, I wanted it to be a comprehensive evaluation.
At the risk of contradicting that last paragraph, I have to tell you, there are NOT many pleasant ways to cause ones own death. I certainly wouldn’t attempt it here in Hollywood. Jumping’s no good…with my luck, I’d fall on Angelina Jolie’s car and she and Brad would adopt my kids and I’d be all famous post mortem which certainly IS second best, but I really, really want to be alive to enjoy any accolades I have coming.
Actually, accolades would be great therapy so if any of you would like to sing my praises, do so in the comment section. (Remember Twitter!!! Don’t twit me bro!)
So…if I’m gonna live, I might as well keep my commitment at The Comedy Store…if you want to come out and yell, “Jump!” while I’m on stage, show up and tell them Meg sent you. If not, just leave any derogatory comments in un-moderated comment hell.
If misery makes for good humor, I ought to be in rare form.
…but soon after, the dog needed to be walked and it was such a lovely morning that I couldn’t imagine things being so bad that I would want to be laid out on a medical examiner’s table by the end of the day and with morning suicides, you can pretty much guarantee a trip to the ol’ slab by dusk.
Odd…that I should wake up suicidal…I was writing a new stand up routine last night before I fell asleep. I was giddy and looking forward to performing at the Comedy Store. Then I woke up all melancholy. This morning was the yin to last night’s yan.
Oh well, I’m still here. No thanks to my Twitter friends, BTW. I tweeted twice that I was gonna off myself if no one gave me a reason not to and no one did. Then, in one last desperate effort, I tweeted by plans to Ashton Kutcher who obviously doesn’t care anymore about me than any of my other twit friends. Thanks Ash.
It wasn’t fear that stopped me, I’m not afraid of my personal method of self slaughter…but I am worried about who’s gonna take the dog out next. And the poor thing can’t open the dog food cans…not even those new ones with the pull-off tops.
Whatever. I think I’ll deal with suicide like I’ve dealt with tattoos for 30 years…I’ll just do it tomorrow. I still don’t have a tattoo and if suicide procrastination works half as well, that’ll send me into my mid 60′s. I’ll probably re-evaluate things at that point.
Now, I don’t want anyone to think that just because I have morning fantasies of dieing ingloriously, that it in any way implies that I’m nuts. I’m not. I’m simply weighing options and as an intelligent adult, I wanted it to be a comprehensive evaluation.
At the risk of contradicting that last paragraph, I have to tell you, there are NOT many pleasant ways to cause ones own death. I certainly wouldn’t attempt it here in Hollywood. Jumping’s no good…with my luck, I’d fall on Angelina Jolie’s car and she and Brad would adopt my kids and I’d be all famous post mortem which certainly IS second best, but I really, really want to be alive to enjoy any accolades I have coming.
Actually, accolades would be great therapy so if any of you would like to sing my praises, do so in the comment section. (Remember Twitter!!! Don’t twit me bro!)
So…if I’m gonna live, I might as well keep my commitment at The Comedy Store…if you want to come out and yell, “Jump!” while I’m on stage, show up and tell them Meg sent you. If not, just leave any derogatory comments in un-moderated comment hell.
If misery makes for good humor, I ought to be in rare form.
posted by Meg Kelso | 2:06 PM
2 Comments:
is this a rerun post or are you back in CA?
LOLOL...I accidentally deleted your question but yes...it IS a rerun. I happened upon it and wanted to repost it. But you never know where I'll post from next!
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