Right now I am going to talk about my dog, as seen to the left. Yes, she does have a political Democrat donkey toy. Yes, I bought it for her. She is actually my sister's dog, but we all consider her as the pet family. Her name is Sammie and she just turned 5 on November 7th. Don't let the adorable face fool you. She is a devil and a half. I gave her a bath earlier and right in the middle of sudsing her entire body, she decides she is going to jump out of the tub and shake all over the place. I had to chase her all over my bathroom, which is not big by any means. She's just sneaky like that.It was a week ago, but I never got around to talking about my cousin's funeral. Not that there is much exciting to talk about. I never cry at funerals. I think the last time I cried at one was back in elementary school when my Pop Pop Al died. I haven't cried at any since then. I just don't find death to be such a bad thing. Now, of course, I did not cry at this funeral either, but when I got home, I certainly did. Suicide is sad. It really is. Knowing that someone else out there that I knew personally was feeling similar to how I have felt many times, but actually went through with it....it's depressing. And people can stand there and say "oh well maybe he should have got help" or "maybe he shouldn't have been so selfish". He did get help. He was on medication. People do not seem to grasp how antidepressants probably never really help people who pretty severely depressed. Also, not many people seem to realize that antidepressants can INCREASE the risk of suicide. I can vouch for that from when I took Wellbutrin. I am not even going to bother commenting on the second one. I can talk until I am blue in the face and some asshole will stand around and complain about the selfishness of suicide.
And if you have ever heard of the fun of going off of Effexor, I can vouch for that as well. It is pure hell. The first time I went off of it, I did it smartly- weaned off little by little. I still got sick to my stomach, dizzy, and felt like I was being electrocuted in my head every time I moved my head or eyes. The second time, I did it stupidly. I dropped from 75 mg to nothing. I had no money to go to the doctors and get a prescription, so I figured I'd ride out the withdrawal. How, to this day, I did it is beyond me. I felt like hell. I was sick to my stomach and dizzy. I had violent mood swings. Every time I drove to work or school, I wanted to floor my car into a tree or railguard or whatever strong structure was close by. Every time I moved my head, my whole body felt like it was being electrocuted. I had internal chills and would put something on to warm up and in no time, I was soaked. I had migraines. I really believe I could have seriously hurt someone if I was pushed enough. I honestly advise anyone to stay as far, far away from this drug as humanly possible. I STILL get the brain zaps to this day and I truly believe I have not been the same since quitting it.
Anyway, back to the funeral, when the actual cemetary part came, someone brought a radio to play songs and wouldn't you know the first song they played was "Dust In The Wind"? I wanted to bust up laughing, because the first thing that came to mind was Will Ferrell singing it at Blue's funeral in Old School and then screaming "you're my boy, Blue!".
The minute I step into a church, every funny thing possible floods my head. I think of the episode of The Simpsons when Bart photo-copies his ass and then places the copies in all of the church books. I think of the episode of Family Guy when Stewie dresses up as a devil and tries to scare someone in church. I think of the time I went to a funeral and my father fell asleep in the church and started to moan loudly (just for the record, he did fall asleep at my cousin's as well; just no moaning).
Hey. No one said I was normal. I mean, this is the same person who has "My Shiny Teeth and Me" by Chip Skylark (from The Fairly Oddparents) on her iPod.
