3/08/2005

Hatefest 2005

Evolution is a glorious process. I find that I have quickly vaulted from emotional basketcase to embittered, hateful, vengeful bitch. I confess that most of these qualities have been latent for quite awhile, emerging mainly on my blog or popping up during crazy-eyed postwork rants to The Dude. I'm wondering if this is a gradual reaction to IUI related injectionables --

stage 1: moderate irritability, emotional distress usually at the provocation of cute puppy, small cut on finger, etc...

stage 2: increasing irritability, severe emotional distress brought on by car insurance commercials, bra that I wanted to wear being dirty and the like

stage 3: beyond the point of return emotionally. Deep hatred for co-workers, family members, non-family members, passers-by, celebrities, babies, small children, amoebas, American Idol contestants, farmers.

The other day I was seriously considering going home "sick" from work because every single thing other people did annoyed me to a level to which I was previously unfamiliar with. I wanted to crawl out of my skin I was so frustrated with every word that was uttered and every action carried out. This doesn't seem to be subsiding either. The only people/pets I can tolerate at the moment are The Dude, my precious canary, and most bloggers. Consider yourselves lucky. No defamatory comments about America's Next Top Model or asserting that Vincent Van Gogh was certainly nuttier than a fruitcake vs just being quite a sad, lonely little Dutchman or else I shall add you to my list. It's a very long list of course, but there is always room for one more.

6 comments:

Suz said...

I love Vincent Van Gogh. When the "Van Gogh's Van Goghs" exhibit (stupid title) came to DC, I just parked myself in front of "Wheatfield with Crows" and cried and cried. And this was BEFORE Lupron entered my life. Brillant, sad, man.

deborah said...

Welcome to my world, Pru.

Now, about those "injectionables." Did you just coin a new word? I likey. Kind of sounds like you have an objection to your injectables, which I can certainly understand.

MsPrufrock said...

I still have trouble adjusting to Vincent being called "Van Goff" here, though I know that's the more appropropriate pronunciation. Tragic, but fascinating artist, regardless of how you say his name.

As for injectionables...I certainly have an objection to them, as my bruised skin would attest. I know it doesn't sound like it could be a word, but I enjoy saying it. "Injections" sounds so harsh, whereas "injectionables" sounds kinda fun, like "lunchables". I know they are hardly fun, but when you get them on a nightly basis you need to look at it from a different angle.

Molly said...

Hormones + people who are annoying as hell = TORTURE. Ugh.

I'm here to bitch at when you need me.

Anonymous said...

Van Gogh was dutch? ;) Actually my favorite work of his was when he was in Provence (sp?). I love the pictures he painted (over and over again I might add because he was quite mad by this point) of his room. The sun streaming in on the simple, country chair...ah, sheer genius. Shaking head sadly at his tragic life, sheer genius.

You mean you have to take injections to get to stage number three? I thought you're born with it like me. I've been at stage three now for a really long time and I just thought it was part of my charm ;)

Hang in there, just keep hanging in there. I'm tough, I can take it.

xxoo,
Emily

DeadBug said...

Injectibles made me C-R-A-Z-Y; I didn't even realize how bad it was till they were over.

Hope the evil effects leave you the hell alone soon.

--Bugs