Stress, Fritz then Cry

 

So. Have I told you how stress effects ADHD? Affects it as well. Have I explained that stress can disorganize an already disarrayed brain, causing significant fritzing?

If you have ADHD, the real variety and not the “I-have-ADHD-as-an-excuse” variety, you can tune out now and allow your focus to stray. Acute sufferers of ADHD will understand what I’m talking about before I say any more.

You ADHD pretenders are no better than those assholes who fake injuries to collect insurance, so you can go fuck yourselves. Asswipe right-wing religious Republican pretenders.

Stress does incredible things to living organisms when said organisms are under stress. Anxiety, rapid heartbeats, sleeplessness, loss or increased appetites, and all of that stuff are typical symptoms of stress. Researchers have even discovered that an amoeba, a one-celled organism, will react to stressors.

I wonder how they test for stress in an organism with no brain. Maybe they yell at them, or hit them with a teeny-tiny jolt of direct current, or tell them their in-laws are coming for a visit. Maybe they file a lawsuit against them.

In-law visits never bothered me, none of the ten sets of them. Anna the Amazon has a brother who bothers me, but that’s just because he’s a lawyer. I want to like him because he’s thoughtful, interesting and funny. But he’s still a lawyer and my instinct is to have reservations.

Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson’s mother was one of my favorite people ever. She, Marie, and Daddy are the people I miss most now that they are gone. I still bawl like a baby whenever I hear that song, Time to Say Goodbye. That’s the one made famous by the blind Italian Tenor, Andrea Bocelli.

I’m now discovering I don’t need to hear the fucking song to bawl like a baby because telling you has opened the floodgates. Pardon me while I wipe my nose.

Must be the stress and attendant brain fritzing. I’m stressed over health insurance, my still nasty oozing ass, a broken tooth, lawyers, a recent near arrest, and most stressing- the rewrite of my book.

Ugh!

Which reminds me. Those shoes called UGGs. I can’t decide if them naming comfortable foot-ware “UGGs” is clever marketing, or if it pisses me off. Right this minute is pisses me off. Maybe I’ll gather every pair from home, take them to Mooners Compost Plant and grind them up. Put the grindings in a pile and decompose them into worm food.

And don’t start in on me that they don’t spell their name “Ugh”. Like Gram says, she’d say, “Who gives a shit? Spell it how ya want, it’s still Ugh-ly.”

But I’m digressing a touch.

I’m so fritzed that I can’t perform a moon show because of my ugly ass I could cry. In fact, I’m crying again. Now I’m thinking what a great man Lloyd Lebow is and I want to cry some more. And why didn’t I ask Tennessee Williams that question I wanted to ask him when I had the chance.

See what I mean? I’m a total fucking mess over all this stress.

Maybe I should take Dixie and Squirt on a short road trip. We’ll go down to Driftwood to the Salt Lick for some BBQ. I’ll drive Gram’s Ferrari and take the back roads. Pack a sixer of Carta Blanca beer since the Salt Lick doesn’t serve any booze.

Conversing with those two dogs always brightens my mood.

Manana, y’all.

Oh yea, and Ps- Rush Limbaugh, the pig, and the ostrich Rick Perry, are still in the closet!

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One Response to “Stress, Fritz then Cry”

  1. Fabulous post made me realise where I am at :) Thanks!…

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