I fired my psychologist today; she was pissing me off too much. She hasn't a clue, that’s her problem. I mean who the hell asks someone “So what do you think you need to do to improve?” I mean isn't that why I'm here? If I knew, I'd change it. Duh. Why the hell does no one have a clue about my condition?
My psychologists always suck, I hate talking to people about my problems, I’d rather work them out myself. If I get someone to work it out for me I’m never gonna learn am I? I don’t know what the logic is for therapy, and never have. Dr Maralyin (although I was allowed to call her ‘Ruby’) was in her sixties and sounded like she never really had a life. Well I want one. So there. I ain’t gonna take advice from someone who has never been outside of the city “I’ve seen it on her certificates, they’re all Memphis Elementary, Memphis High School, Memphis College. I love Memphis but I’d like to go to other places too.
Back to me: I'm supposed to be dribbling, I'm supposed to walk funny and talk funny, and I’m supposed to be good at math. Ha. Ha. Hell, I can't even do my four times table. And its all Dustin Hoffman's fault, I swear. He made us all look stupid bar one sort of superhuman power. What the fuck? Um... no way am I anything special, I ain't even smart enough to get a whole side of a Rubix cube the same colour. Not that those things aren't fun (if not a little frustrating at times).
I work at Memphis Conservatories and Draining. I work in an office cubicle talking to people on the phone, because everyone needs a new conservatory right? Well I always think those things are pretty neat, but of course there are always a few who don't. Like the lady who called me a Southern Cunt. I didn't quite understand that, I mean your cunt has to be the furthest down you can go, since if you went any further you'd come out the other side and up. Seriously, what's with the logic in that? Maybe she has it on her forehead or something. Some people are weird.
I make good money too, and the coffee they sell here must have some sort of something in it, like someone put in ecstasy or something because its drinking time is the only time people seem happy, and I don't get that. I love my job loads, like I said: I think conservatories are neat. I especially like lying on the floor and looking out the ceiling when it rains because it looks like its falling on you. Snow is even better, because sometimes it lies on top of the roof until you can’t see anything else.
Snow is great. I love the way it covers everything “almost symbolic of a fresh start. Well, for the first day at least, they second day you’re guaranteed to find someone wrote their name in the snow with their own urine. Do they not know how unhygienic that is? I’ve never done it and I don’t think I want to. It ruins it for everyone. One time I made a snowman and the next day when I came out I found someone had pissed a hole into its side. I’d rather it had melted and had a more dignified ending,
At work I have to wear a suit and I hate it but I like the colour blue. Its navy jacket and navy pants, with baby blue shirt and a Mickey Mouse tie. And on dress-down Fridays I wear my pink t-shirt and the ladies tell me they love it, but the guys laugh. I like pink though, it’s the colour of roses and Turkish delight, although I don't like Turkish delight because it tastes weird it still smells nice.
I live at home with my mom and dad in a medium size house with a front and back lawn. My dad works in a bank and my mom stays with me and helps me dress and I have no sisters or brothers. There’s also another lady who visits sometimes (especially at Christmas) who looks exactly like my mom but smells of Jack Daniels, but we don't talk about her unless it’s after when she comes visit. My Mom says she loves me no matter what but the other lady who looks exactly like my Mom told me that she hates herself so much because if she didn't smoke cannabis when she was pregnant with me I would have been born normally and she could actually be proud. It used to upset me because I sometimes thought Mom wasn't proud of me or loved me, but Dad came into my room afterwards and told me that he didn't feel that way, and the lady who said that wasn't my real Mom. Maybe she’s her evil twin or something.
Sometimes my life gets confusing like that, sometimes I need things explained time and time again, but I get it in the end. I'm just a regular guy, and if it wasn't for my weird curly hair you'd never pick me out from the crowd.
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