Category Archives: mental health

Notes on Being Ill

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i don’t know about you, but every time I get sick I think I have cancer. A cough and/or upper respiratory infection is lung cancer. A headache is a brain tumor. Diarrhea is colon cancer, and indigestion is esophageal cancer or possibly a heart attack. Uaually it just turns out that I had a cough, a headache, diarrhea, or indigestion.

Since I’ve been sick for almost 2 weeks with an upper respiratory infection, I’ve been getting my affairs in order for the inevitable  I pulled out the photo albums and looked through pictures of my loving family who I will probably never see again.  I wondered if they would miss me as much as I am missing them right now.  I cried for them and I cried for me. Then I moved on to cursing the ones who could care less about me and banished them from my impending funeral.  i wondered if the little ones would even remember me and pulled out the calculator to figure out exactly how long I had to live to stay in their memories   Two six year olds, divided by memory, divided by awesome things I did for them, equals at least three more years.  “OMG!,” I thought to myself “could I hang on another 3 years?”

Then I cursed myself for not updating my will and considered writing an addendum  I felt too sick to pull out a pen and paper.  This confirmed to me that I was about to die  I grabbed a box of Kleenex and cried and coughed up flem all night.  “Do I still want my fiefdom divided the way I wanted it divided last year?  I need to change my will because I’m sure I’m fighting with a different family member this year.  Come to think of it, maybe I should just divide the fiefdom equally because every year someone in the family has made amends for being an asshole and someone else takes over the role of asshole.  It’s  like musical assholes around here.”

Anyhoo, back to the point  I’m sick and probably dying of lung cancer…based on the cough and upper respiratory infection.

My gooogle search for home remedies convinced me that I was, indeed, dying of lung cancer.  I switched my search to cancer cures and found out that stress, lack of oxygen, lack of water, and a poor diet were the root causes of my self-diagnosed cancer.

Where the fuck can I find oxygen?  I thought it was in the air we breathe.  Do they sell that shit online?  I couldn’t find it anywhere, not even on Amazon.

Then I remembered grade school:  trees take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen  Humans take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide   So I googled trees and found out that one large tree can supply enough oxygen for 4 adults  Perfect.  I whipped out the calculator.  I have six large trees in my yard, divided by one adult, divided by small birds and maybe the occasional owl, definitely divided by squirrels, equals…..I’m killing my trees!  I need more adults to balance this ecosystem

So now I’m thinking maybe I have too much oxygen, not enough roommates, too many fucking squirrels, and not enough doctors.  Not to mention I’d prefer death than having to eat seaweed everyday for the rest of my life.

Then I read the very fine print on the cancer cure websites  It said they were not medical doctors and neither are you.  It said that they only practice in quackery and if you’ve been sick more than a week, you should consult a doctor now asshole instead of believing everything you read online

So maybe I’m the asshole in the family this year.  I can live with that.  I’m  not in my will.

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Top ten reasons why blogging sucks

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1.  Why am I even blogging?  Who cares?

2.  Oh….that’s right…I’m blogging because I can’t drunk text and drive anymore.  I used to do a lot of drunk texting and driving but that got me into trouble with the law enforcement agencies and the people who serve them in my town.   Now I have to settle for talking to strangers behind the wheel of my computer.

3.  Come to think of it, why is it so much harder to drive slow than to drive fast?

4.  Ok.  Back to the point.  I think I’m on number 3 because I got distracted.  I hate blogging because everyone has a 100 day challenge.  Why put so much pressure on yourself?  Your just setting yourself up for failure and more drunk texting and driving when you realize there are real writers in this universe who know what they are doing and have been practicing for a long time.  Don’t be discouraged…if you keep it up long enough you may be a real rabbit too someday.

5.   How do you categorize blogs?  …………………

6.  I mean…I think my blogs are funny…

7.  You see what I mean about why blogging sucks.  Maybe I should have posted that under mental illness.

8.  Do people follow me because they want to be followed or are they following me because they think I’m funny…which is where I post most of my blogs…and mental illness.

9.  Just how much time do I have to devote myself to blogging?  Who’s gonna do the dishes, wash the clothes, and plow the field?  That shit takes time…valuable time away from blogging.

10.  I’ll never be able to do a 100 day challenge and that makes me feel like I’m not a real blogger…but it also makes me feel good about myself.  I’m a rebel…a real pretend blogger.

Interview with a Potato

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Hello all, and welcome to the Stay Home Show.  I’m your host, the Stay at Home Philosopher.  Today we have a veeery special guest.  Known and loved by billions all around the world.  Whether you’ve run into him half baked, deep fried, or shredded, there is no denying the power of this starchy, tuberous crop.  Soooooo, without further ado, (as she WHIPS the audience into a frenzy) please welcome Potato to the Stay Home show.

The audience screams and shouts with joy!

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I know they may look calm to you, but I couldn’t figure out how to get everyone’s hands up at the same time.  Trust me, they were ecstatic to see potato in his original form.

Stay at Home:  Mr. Potato, welcome to the Stay Home Show.  Welcome, Welllcoooome!  (Stay at Home laughs and drinks her beer while she waits for the audience to calm down).  Mr. Potato, you seem to have quite a following.  What do you attribute this to?  How did you rise to this level?

Potato:  Well, I have been around for a while.  (Potato laughs with the audience.  “Duhhhh, what a stupid question,” they think to themselves).  As a matter of fact, I’ve been around forever!  (Crowd and Potato still laughing at The Stay At Home Philosopher).

Stay at Home:  What do you mean you’ve been around forever?  (Stay at Home feels stupid about the question she just asked.  How is she supposed to know what a real potato is?  Does anyone know what a real potato looks like anymore?  Feeling backed into a corner, she decides to ask a hard hitting question to get her dignity back.  She doesn’t know much about Potato but she does know her history).  Are you hinting at the Irish Potato famine?  Were you there?  (audience goes silent).

Potato:  I’ve been blamed for good times and bad times throughout history and I took a lot of heat for it.  No pun intended.  (Audience and Potato laugh).

Stay at Home:  So you were there?

Potato:  Yes.  I was there. (Audience goes into a more silent hush than the previous hush).

Stay at Home:  So what you are telling us today is that you are responsible for the death of millions and the invasion, I mean emigration, of the Irish, to the United States.  (audience, most of whom are Irish, boooo Stay at Home).

Potato:  The Irish did depend heavily on me.  That was their mistake, not mine.  A lot of people would like to blame me for the blight, but it’s not my fault.  It was a political and social problem.  The same kind we have today.

Stay at Home:  Are you saying you’re not to blame for the death of millions with your rotted core and black leaves when you were the only thing that 80% of the Irish relied on?

Potato:  What I’m saying is that I’m just a potato.  I’m delicious and nutritious.  Loaded with vitamin C.  There are so many things that can be done with me including starting a war.

Stay at Home:  I think we can all agree that you are delicious.  Audience, raise your hand if you think Potato is delicious.  (Audience raises their hands).  But who said anything about a war?  Mr. Potato, are you saying that the United States had something to do with the Irish Potato Famine?  (Silence falls over the audience again).

Potato:  I wouldn’t say it’s their fault but they certainly have culpability in this matter.  (Audience screams and jeers at Potato.  His own wife starts to eat Potato chips.)

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Stay at Home:  And is revenge what you’re up to Potato?  Did you reinvent yourself and make yourself with so many new and delicious flavors that Americans would become obese?  (Mr. Potato remains silent).  Answer the question Mr. Potato!  (the audience demands answers as well).

Potato:  If I knew you were going to go in this direction, I would have prepared a better answer yesterpotato.  All I can say, today, is that everyone would do well by taking 100% responsibility for all of history.  The earth would progress much more quickly.

The crowd goes into a frenzy and shreds Potato.

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Stay at Home:  Thank you all for coming to today’s show.  Tomorrow, we’ll be making hash browns.  Our special guest will be Vegetable Oil.  Have a wonderful night!

 

I'm badly shredded but still alive!

I’m badly shredded but still alive!

 

Things I have in Common with the Buddha

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  1. Big Belly – check
  2. Likes to laugh – check
  3. Robe – check
  4. Holds the secrets to the Universe – working on it
  5. Can sit in Lotus position forever – I’m up to 10 minutes
  6. Has a statue – hmmmm.  I’m gonna need a kiln.
  7. Has very little hair – mine is falling out as we speak
  8. Has many worshipers and followers – I have about 65 of the 6 billion people who inhabit our planet.  It’s a pretty good start!  Well, that’s on WordPress.  Nobody on Facebook really likes me too much.  I don’t get Facebook.
  9. That’s all I know about Buddha.

How I got the Son of God to cut my grass

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First Text – 2:56 pm:  The grass is looking a little high.  I think it wants a hair cut.

No response from the Son of God…


Second text – 3:42 pm

I guess you missed the mental imagery I was trying to convey in my last text.  Maybe this will help

I guess you missed the mental imagery I was trying to convey in my last text. Maybe this will help

No Response from the Son of God…


Third text – 4:50 pm

Help!!!!!  I've fallen and I can't cut the grass!

Help!!!!! I’ve fallen and I can’t cut the grass!

No Response from the Son of God…


Fourth Text – 6:06 pm

This is a picture of my shed.  What's missing? Answer:  a lawn mower!

This is a picture of my shed. What’s missing?
Answer: a lawn mower!

No Response from the Son of God…


Fifth Text – 6:26 pm

Holy shit!  The grass is threatening to kill itself if it doesn't get a hair cut.  Do you really want this on your hands?

Holy shit! The grass is threatening to kill itself if it doesn’t get a hair cut. Do you really want this on your hands?

The Son of God replies:  Fine Mom…I’ll be there in the morning.

God doesn’t take Advice so Well (“Kinda Drunk God” – Part 2)

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Against his friends better advice, God left the bar with the woman in the corner, in red.  He took control of her car and they argued the entire way back to her place.  He told her she was a wreck and needed to get her life together.  She told him to fuck off and mind his own business.  “You drank every drink I bought for you tonight!” said the woman in red.  “I know,” said God calmly, “but I did it because it’s what you wanted me to do.  I can’t do anything that you don’t want me to do.”

“You are so arrogant and so pretentious I almost can’t stand it!  WTF does that mean?!?!  Am I to blame for everything I do and everything you do?!?!  Give me a break!  Why don’t you go pick up some whore that really needs help…the lady in red looks up for a moment then said…”turn left here.”

“OK, here we go!” said God in a slightly unpleased but nevertheless accommodating tone of voice.  “I don’t think this is the direction we should be going in.”

“I’m right, I’m wrong!  Can’t you make a fucking decision!..I can’t take it,”  yelled the woman in red.  “Just turn fucking left NOW!”

The next morning, God woke up in the bedroom of the woman in red.  She offered him cigarettes for his allergies and some coffee to help him get out of bed.  “What the fuck have you done to me now?” said God in a slightly unpleased but nevertheless accommodating tone of voice.  “I can’t move my legs, my speech is slurred, my eye sight is less than average, but you still look like a cool chick to me.  Can I get your number?”