There's no delicate way to put this...

...but my dog just farted. Jeez, I hate that. I thought that all the nasty farting left with Vex. Oh well, at least I KNOW the dog doesn’t have enough sense to go into the restroom for such things. There has always been a farting man in my life. When I was a little girl, my grandfather, a very successful businessman, would read the paper in his recliner at night and literally lift his leg and fart with no shame or “Excuse Me.” Of course, when I got a little older, my brothers got a thrill out of farting. I left home and got married so I immediately had a farter of my own. Then, without missing a beat, I married again and had another farter. I swear to God, I had him convinced that woman just don’t fart. Next, I was single for a few years but I was working as a nurse so I saw a lot of stuff much worse than farts. Then, I met the fartmaster. (My spellchecker REALLY didn’t like that one.) When my oldest son attained a certain age, he developed a facsination with farting that he pretty much still has. He laughs so hard at his own farts, but you can truly annoy him by farting back at him.When he and Vex where both living with me, it was one great big fart-a-rama. A few years ago, I was in New York and I had this great beef sandwich with peppers...three kinds. I went into the restroom and noticed what a hideous bouquet that sandwich had summoned. I smiled. I began developing my stratagem.It was so marvelously brilliant and the timing couldn’t have been better. They were both in the living room watching television. I went back into the living room and sat down as though all was right with the world. Serenely secure in my evil scheme, I withheld the pressure that was my vengeance for the years of anguish to which I had been subjected by the fartmaster and his little partner in crime. I smiled cunningly as I remembered the silence that preceeded the appalling stench. I knew that there would be no forewarning for my victims. I waited until just the right moment and unleashed what was the most foul, repugnant, revolting “silent but deadly” that I had ever had the misfortune of suffering. And then I sat back and watched the consequences of my reprisal ensue. It was breathtaking...literally.When the effects of my opus first touched their noses, they immediately glanced at each other. Then, they inhaled again. Oh, it was magnificent. I laughed so hard that I instantaneously gave myself away. They both actually got up off of their chairs. The looks on their faces were identical and said the same thing, “How can I leave the presence of this gruesome entity?” Their eyes went back and forth as though they were looking for an exit. You would have thought that they were a couple of mice in the presence of a lion. Such a sense of contentment, I have never felt. I assure you, that one fart made up for the years of olfactory assaults that these two yahoos had released upon me. I have tried, in vain, to duplicate it but haven’t found the proper combination of weapons with which to do so.OK, enough fart talk, the dog just farted again. I guess I asked for that one. Well, I have to clean my kitchen so I can mess it up again by making dinner.






Late Christmas afternoon I tried to kill myself. It wasn't a spur of the moment type thing, I had been thinking about it for quite some time...I just gave it until Christmas to see if ANYTHING would get any better. It didn't so I tried (really hard) to commit suicide when my allotted time had come. It wasn't a cry for attention, I never mentioned it to anyone and even the doctors referred to it  as a "sincere attempt". I didn't do anything easy like eat my Xanax except for the one I took to make the whole process less stressful. I swallowed a bottle of heart pills along with a bottle of my blood pressure medicine. The only role the Xanax played was to help me fall asleep so that I could drift off and never wake up.
As you've probably surmised, once I entered the hospital, I wasn't allowed to exit. After a couple days they decided that I no longer required acute medical attention so they sent me to a place that I shall refer to as the Cuckoo's Nest. The nice people at the Cuckoo's Nest were as hesitant to allow me to walk away as were the nice people at the hospital. Of course, the Cuckoo's Nest was somewhat more confining than the acute care hospital...down to the barbed wire and window fencing. I appreciate the need for such prohibitive measures but I would have stayed regardless. When a person Baker Acts one, the wise thing to do is to abide by all rules that the people in charge require of one. Nevertheless, the claustrophobia was maddening for me. I kept my cool by distracting myself from the visible restraints.

I  arrived at the Cuckoo's Nest quite irritated, disgusted and angry that I had was still amongst the living. I thought to myself, "Shit, I should have been cremated by now." I was in no mood to adhere to stupid rules, especially when I was already locked up...if I disobeyed a rule did I really REALLY have to stay? When I awoke after my first night there, I was already developing Plan two. Plan two consisted of a gun, one bullet and an open mouth. Later on in the day I met with the doctor who offered to change all of my meds. I did NOT expect it to do any good but as I told the doc, "I'll give you and your drugs one shot."

Long story short, the new cocktail of anti-depressants worked swiftly and effectively. I was shocked, stunned and pleased. Much to my surprise, I felt better than I've felt in a very long time. I had long ago resigned myself to spending the rest of my life, no matter how long or short, in painful depression. I'm still amazed at how well I feel. Once the meds began to work, I began to see the humor that was all around me and I began to take notes...for all of you.

The first chuckle came when a man said to me, "It's one thing to commit suicide, but these people are just plain nuts." Next, as I sat  in the dining room, I noticed a man pacing near me. I didn't really pay any attention to him, I just noticed him. Then, without warning, the dude took a header into the garbage chute. Some staff grabbed him by the feet to pull his skinny ass back into the dining room but his head was in the trash and he was too far down the chute so they ran to the kitchen to catch him as he crawled out of the garbage can with peas in one ear and instant mashed potatoes in the other. Now, that was amusing, to be sure. But, the truly ridiculous thing is that the following morning, I was called to the nurses station as I was sitting in the common area writing so I asked Garbage Chute dude to watch my stuff. Yes I did. And then, I was shocked when he took the freshly sharpened pencil that I had been writing with. When pushed, he admitted to his crime and pulled the pencil out of his pocket and returned it to me. I don't know what he planned on doing with it but he also made a shank out of a toothbrush given to him by the staff.

I wake relatively early as do the long term patients. At 5 AM, it was pretty much just me, the staff and a few long timers. One morning one of them had his hand behind him, fanning away his own farts. I appreciated the visual warning although I could have gone all day NOT knowing who was farting and when they were doing it.

Next, at one morning med call, I was behind a male patient and as he stood at the window taking his meds from the male nurse I heard the male nurse make the following statement (with glee) to the dude in front of me: "Your tongue looks really good today!" When my turn came to get my meds, I had to bite my tongue rather harshly to avoid saying any of the numerous smart ass comments that were popping into my head one right after the other.

There was another young man who was brought in because after a fight, his girlfriend called the cops and said that he threatened to blow his head off with any one of his guns and he had quite a few. (I spoke with him at length and I absolutely believe him that he never said that.) But the ironic part of his story is that on Monday morning, the man wasn't allowed to shave himself because he was deemed too dangerous to handle a razor blade. But, by Monday afternoon he had been discharged and he went straight from the Cuckoo's Nest to the police department to pick up all of his guns. The cops didn't give him back his ammo but one of them told him that, "Wal-Mart sells hollow points, you could just go there and get more."

I have SO much more to tell you about my flight through the Cuckoo's Nest, but I'm hungry and my shoulders hurt from sitting at this computer so long. Before I go I had to say one thing...I KNOW that what I did was selfish and stupid so please don't try to enlighten me further regarding those two facts.

See ya soon!