But think, people, if you want to exit this realm, setting yourself afire is not the way to do it! Holy shit, do I have to tell you everything? Get ahold of a firearm or throw yourself off a bridge (don't bother with pills, they often don't work). Even hanging is less painful and more sure than fire. Gawd, imagine waking up covered with severe burns, thus making your life maybe 1,000% more miserable than it already was. Christ.
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[Prompted by V., I'm watching Plan 9 From Outer Space again. Love how that "inspector" keeps scratching his head with the barrel of his pistol.]
Hey, check it out! A vacuum coffee brewer!
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Fourteen days -- count 'em -- FOURTEEN days after I requested my refill, my Effexor arrived today. By this time, I'm suffering severe withdrawal symptoms and am in pretty sad shape overall. When I called the VA yesterday, I was told that I need to plan ahead better when phoning in refills. Thanks, VA. Thanks for fucking up my refill, and thus, my head. And thanks for making it my fault.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 4:49 PM
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