Making Love in the Psych Ward: My Life is a Yardsale and Everything Must Go: 2:00 AM Randoms

Some Thoughts as We Begins Our Travels

Psychiatric treatment floors or facilities are usually filled with coloring books and containers of broken crayons, word search books, puzzles of all kinds, Popsicles and pudding cups, suicide blankets, too many pills, asshole doctors, and nurses, some wonderful, whose shifts seem to rotate at all points of the sun. The "counselors" (floor staff) are really just babysitters. They usually sit behind the front desk, gossip, shop online and make fun of the crazies. I hate them.

When I was 5 years old, I had my first ballet and tap recital. In the class were twin boys who wore matching black leotards without tights. Their thighs were white and meaty. One of them was my recital partner. He peed all over me, then ran off the stage crying. It was my big break so I kept dancing until the teacher came out with paper towels to wipe the pee off the stage. A few parents clapped. It was really awkward, and It was my last recital.

I wish that I had lost my virginity in the back of a steamy stagecoach with a wimpy dude in suspenders and a bowl cut. I honestly don't remember exactly where I lost mine, but it definitely wasn't as sexy.

Ever have Bok Choy hanging off the end of your nose at an office function, and no one cares to tell you?

When I was really little, I saw two lizards having sex on a crowded mini-golf course. I pointed and yelled to my Dad, "Look! He's giving the other one a piggy back ride!" He didn't correct me, which is too bad. I believe in teaching sexuality in a healthy, open manner - like doing it behind dumpsters in the psych ward and filming it for documentary purposes.

I was 8 when the bumper of my mother’s Camaro fell off when we hit a pothole on I-95. I cried non-stop for two days. It was a tragedy of immense proportions and almost inconceivable that something so horrible could happen. I have always had emotional responses disproportionate to the original incident. I drove my parents crazy. And, myself, though someone had already given me a ride there. Who? Why?

If you fold a Land O' Lakes butter carton just right it looks like the Native American lady has rosy nipples. I swear it was done on purpose.

The first year I taught 7th grade we had a particularly horrid student named JR. He mooned me daily. One afternoon I sent him to the office for throwing a desk at a girl. He was super pissed at me because it was his last strike before suspension. Running from the room, he called back over his shoulder "Go fornicate yourself!" It was his greatest insult. I don't miss JR.

When my mania was untreated, I'd travel night after night on dark highways to meet people I'd spoken to online for an hour or less. Along the way, I'd buy bottles of cheap-ass vodka, cigarettes, condoms - self destruction kits. I am lucky to be alive.

I used to play Marco Polo by myself in the pool. "Marco!" I'd yell, then swim to the other side of the pool. "Polo!" I'd answer. Does it get more embarrassing? (Also, does that mean I played with myself in the pool?)

My then 70 year old mother sold her 1978 metal single wide trailer because she couldn't swing the small mortgage, lot rent, transportation, medical care, utilities and food on $750.00 a month in social security. When I hear "trailer trash," I think about all of the people who'd lop off an arm to even get into a trailer.

I was less than a hair width's close to having 6 weeks of Electro-Convulsive Therapy (ECT) when I was 25 years old. The drug Lamictal saved me from the brain fry. I remember waking up one morning after being on Lamictal for a week. I felt like a deaf person hearing sound for the first time.

When I was a kid, I loved riding around with my Dad on Saturday mornings. He was gone all week working, so this was my only hang out time with him. In summer, he'd put the top down on the convertible and I remember looking up at the green canopy. Butterflies flew around us like confetti. Since this was the 70s, everyone pretty much drove around drinking. My dad always had a can of Bud stationed between his legs. I loved when he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to "Help me, Rhonda.” I miss feeling that carefree. I can't remember the last time I felt anything close to those mornings.

Hair clippings can be used to deter snails from your favorite gardener's prize-winning zucchinis or a healthy green lawn. Once I donated my hair to a garden that was struggling to survive against ravenous snails. It didn't work. What a waste of good herr.

A few years ago I passed out in Borders. The contents of my totebag spilled everywhere, and since I'd just returned from a weekend "away" it was filled with an array of items including a pair of Hello Kitty underwear, a forgotten about half-full carton of McDonald's fries, several medication bottles, dirty socks and a bunch of tampons and maxi pads, one of which somehow lodged itself between the boots of a life-sized, cardboard display of Annie Lennox. You should have seen the manager trying to wrangle the pad before other shoppers came upon the spectacle.

I almost dropped out of college to become a police officer...and a hairdresser. Both would have cool, but I wonder which would one have been part time? A Policing Hairdresser or a Hairdressing Officer?

I live a few minutes from Steven King's house. The gates are really cool. I wish talent ran in the water. Money would be better though so I don't have to do the work.

When I adopted my now 12 year old cat, Mikey Likes It, he was just a baby. I came upon him in a pawn shop where he was sleeping in a gigantic gold birdcage. Talk about a role reversal. And, how completely odd come to think that he was in a bird cage. In a pawn shop. And why was I in the pawnshop? When did I ever have anything to pawn except for my VHS Richard Simmons Dancing to the Oldies collection? OK, it's my neighbors, but she won't notice. I borrowed them last year and I'm still massive so she's probably like "Oh, the poor dear..."

I live in Maine and despise all sea food, especially lobster. I just don't get it, but really wish I did. I will never sit at the cool kids' table as long as I live in this state.