Therapy Thursday is always magical...to some extent. Today started out with me arriving at work to find this little gem waiting for me.
I mean how can you deny the power of a day that starts with an F-U-nicorn waiting for you? You can't. Everyone was jealous of this gem of a sticker. Sadly, I cannot post it at my cube, but I can post it on Facebook, which is a pretty close second. Mission accomplished.
The day really didn't require too much effort as I was distracted by One Eyebrow Betty and Hu-Hu-Hu-Harley. They were in rare form and kept Scorpio Twin busy for a large portion of the day. Top Knot Pony made a few appearances at my desk as she was concerned I was going to have a wardrobe malfunction today. You see, I have this one maxi-dress that is really not for work, it's more for sun, so it's pretty low-cut. BUT, with the help of my "one size fits most" Victoria Secret paper thin top, and my little crop sweater, I can layer it all and make it work appropriate. Still, Top Knot Pony was worried I was going to have a "nip slip" situation. She was making it her personal duty to keep an eye on any boob activity unbecoming of an admin at The Palace. Luckily, Top Knot Pony is just the right height to be a nip slip expert.
The day really had no major drama, nothing I couldn't handle. I mean, I did have the mini cupcake incident where my hand was sliced open by the damn plastic casing on the cup cakes, but thankfully, I had the cowboy bandages to save the day. Additionally, I did have one person ask me if the empty box they were holding was empty. I did the normal dog watching TV head tilt and said, "Not really sure how to answer that question...it does, in fact appear to be empty..." Kinda like yesterday morning when Shark Bait came down into the bathroom as I'm getting ready for work. I'm putting on mascara and he says, "Putting on your mascara?" To which I responded, in my grumpy morning tone, "I'm not going to dignify that with a response." I'm a delight in the morning, it's true.
Anyway, the good news about my day is that it is Therapy Thursday. I've decreased the frequency of my therapy visits,so the last visit I had with my therapist was a month ago. That may have been too long. I don't know.
We discussed the turmoil I've experienced over the last month and how I am really trying to hold on to the "little victories" I experience on a daily basis (if any). She is all about that idea. I told her to not get too excited, because my victories were kind of the equivalent to being at a Seahawks football game where everyone is all 12th man crazy in blue and green and I am one little guy in the huge crowd waving a pink flag that supports crazy pony voices. None the less, she seemed excited about this idea. I couldn't give her too much hope, so I started telling her about how I was so tired all the time and all I wanted to do was sleep. And, how I've had weird dreams. She lit up and said, "Really? Like what kind of dreams? What about?" I told her about the dream I had a week or so ago about being naked and walking around at work and feeling really self-conscious and aware. And then, Guido the Bouncer was in my dream and showed up naked with the words "I AM NOT 13" tattooed on his ass. The Rug Doctor threw her head back and started laughing. Her normal calm and unphased demeanor out the window. She was like, "What do you suppose that means?" She said that being naked like that is often about feeling like you are exposed or your feelings have been exposed. She had no clue about why Guido the Bouncer was there or why he had that tattooed on his ass. She started asking more questions about Guido and I said, "Well, I'm old enough to be his mother, I think,and he is a nice guy, but sometimes I hear him say things and I just shake my head. I explained how I was sitting at my desk just a week ago and I overheard him say, "Hey boss, you got any Clorox wipes, I got donut jizz on my desk from yesterday." (Notable awkward moment just now when I said to Shark Bait, "how do you spell "jizz," like I got jizz on the sheets?" he's like....jiz....why?....WHY? Hee hee...someone is freaked out right now.) Anyway, The Rug Doctor starts laughing again and says, "Okay, I think I know what the tattoo on the butt means, basically he is exposed for his behavior...although, I don't know what the 13 represents....you know, 13 is the age that a child can consent to get therapy." I told her that was great. I'll give Guido the Bouncer her card. Problem solved!
I then discussed some of the goings on at work and how I am adjusting to my band of Boot Bitches being kind of torn apart. I told her how we are staying connected via group conversations on Facebook. It's like an open chat room for whenever we need each other. I explained how it is nice to have that moral support and also just talk about stupid silly stuff. Life is so hard sometimes, it just feels good to talk about stupid, silly stuff and laugh. Laughter is good. I told her we talked about stuff like Brazilian waxing and how that includes a gal's backdoor if needed. As I explained to her that I didn't think anyone really needed to have their starfish spackled, she sat there with no real expression other than possibly shock, and then I think the color was starting to drain from her face. I told her if she ever goes to be waxed to be aware of the back door situation and to not wear underwear for a couple of days after. Additionally, I shared that I hear if you get a Brazilian, all your problems go away because all you care about is your vagina. I suggested that she recommend this therapy to some of her patients and call it Vagina Therapy. She rolled her head back a little, took a breath and said, "Well...... . ...I don't know that .....that would help in the long run, because once your vagina stopped hurting, the issues you had before are still gonna be there." She was so serious all the sudden, like she was considering vagina safety for everyone. I said, "Hey, I didn't say it was a perfect solution, but for short-term, you may want to try it. I mean, I'm not going to, I'm just going to binge on ice cream, but other people should totally tear up their vagina."
Clearly, it was time to change the subject. So, we wrapped up our session. I said, "so, when do you want to see me again?" She countered with, "Whenever you want to see me again..." I could be wrong, but I think she may have been indicating we shouldn't wait 30 days again....like she has concerns, but hey, I know her number if a crisis should occur and I start to consider a "baring it all" therapy session at the local spa.
I walked out of the office and out onto the sidewalk and I heard the soothing, yet disturbing, sound of the ice cream truck music. It was like a sign. Ice cream needed me...I needed ice cream. Alas, it was not meant to be. I walked to safety of my vehicle and drove home. No vaginas were injured on this day, no ice cream ingested. Small victories. The Rug Doctor would be proud.
The day really didn't require too much effort as I was distracted by One Eyebrow Betty and Hu-Hu-Hu-Harley. They were in rare form and kept Scorpio Twin busy for a large portion of the day. Top Knot Pony made a few appearances at my desk as she was concerned I was going to have a wardrobe malfunction today. You see, I have this one maxi-dress that is really not for work, it's more for sun, so it's pretty low-cut. BUT, with the help of my "one size fits most" Victoria Secret paper thin top, and my little crop sweater, I can layer it all and make it work appropriate. Still, Top Knot Pony was worried I was going to have a "nip slip" situation. She was making it her personal duty to keep an eye on any boob activity unbecoming of an admin at The Palace. Luckily, Top Knot Pony is just the right height to be a nip slip expert.
The day really had no major drama, nothing I couldn't handle. I mean, I did have the mini cupcake incident where my hand was sliced open by the damn plastic casing on the cup cakes, but thankfully, I had the cowboy bandages to save the day. Additionally, I did have one person ask me if the empty box they were holding was empty. I did the normal dog watching TV head tilt and said, "Not really sure how to answer that question...it does, in fact appear to be empty..." Kinda like yesterday morning when Shark Bait came down into the bathroom as I'm getting ready for work. I'm putting on mascara and he says, "Putting on your mascara?" To which I responded, in my grumpy morning tone, "I'm not going to dignify that with a response." I'm a delight in the morning, it's true.
Anyway, the good news about my day is that it is Therapy Thursday. I've decreased the frequency of my therapy visits,so the last visit I had with my therapist was a month ago. That may have been too long. I don't know.
We discussed the turmoil I've experienced over the last month and how I am really trying to hold on to the "little victories" I experience on a daily basis (if any). She is all about that idea. I told her to not get too excited, because my victories were kind of the equivalent to being at a Seahawks football game where everyone is all 12th man crazy in blue and green and I am one little guy in the huge crowd waving a pink flag that supports crazy pony voices. None the less, she seemed excited about this idea. I couldn't give her too much hope, so I started telling her about how I was so tired all the time and all I wanted to do was sleep. And, how I've had weird dreams. She lit up and said, "Really? Like what kind of dreams? What about?" I told her about the dream I had a week or so ago about being naked and walking around at work and feeling really self-conscious and aware. And then, Guido the Bouncer was in my dream and showed up naked with the words "I AM NOT 13" tattooed on his ass. The Rug Doctor threw her head back and started laughing. Her normal calm and unphased demeanor out the window. She was like, "What do you suppose that means?" She said that being naked like that is often about feeling like you are exposed or your feelings have been exposed. She had no clue about why Guido the Bouncer was there or why he had that tattooed on his ass. She started asking more questions about Guido and I said, "Well, I'm old enough to be his mother, I think,and he is a nice guy, but sometimes I hear him say things and I just shake my head. I explained how I was sitting at my desk just a week ago and I overheard him say, "Hey boss, you got any Clorox wipes, I got donut jizz on my desk from yesterday." (Notable awkward moment just now when I said to Shark Bait, "how do you spell "jizz," like I got jizz on the sheets?" he's like....jiz....why?....WHY? Hee hee...someone is freaked out right now.) Anyway, The Rug Doctor starts laughing again and says, "Okay, I think I know what the tattoo on the butt means, basically he is exposed for his behavior...although, I don't know what the 13 represents....you know, 13 is the age that a child can consent to get therapy." I told her that was great. I'll give Guido the Bouncer her card. Problem solved!
I then discussed some of the goings on at work and how I am adjusting to my band of Boot Bitches being kind of torn apart. I told her how we are staying connected via group conversations on Facebook. It's like an open chat room for whenever we need each other. I explained how it is nice to have that moral support and also just talk about stupid silly stuff. Life is so hard sometimes, it just feels good to talk about stupid, silly stuff and laugh. Laughter is good. I told her we talked about stuff like Brazilian waxing and how that includes a gal's backdoor if needed. As I explained to her that I didn't think anyone really needed to have their starfish spackled, she sat there with no real expression other than possibly shock, and then I think the color was starting to drain from her face. I told her if she ever goes to be waxed to be aware of the back door situation and to not wear underwear for a couple of days after. Additionally, I shared that I hear if you get a Brazilian, all your problems go away because all you care about is your vagina. I suggested that she recommend this therapy to some of her patients and call it Vagina Therapy. She rolled her head back a little, took a breath and said, "Well...... . ...I don't know that .....that would help in the long run, because once your vagina stopped hurting, the issues you had before are still gonna be there." She was so serious all the sudden, like she was considering vagina safety for everyone. I said, "Hey, I didn't say it was a perfect solution, but for short-term, you may want to try it. I mean, I'm not going to, I'm just going to binge on ice cream, but other people should totally tear up their vagina."
Clearly, it was time to change the subject. So, we wrapped up our session. I said, "so, when do you want to see me again?" She countered with, "Whenever you want to see me again..." I could be wrong, but I think she may have been indicating we shouldn't wait 30 days again....like she has concerns, but hey, I know her number if a crisis should occur and I start to consider a "baring it all" therapy session at the local spa.
I walked out of the office and out onto the sidewalk and I heard the soothing, yet disturbing, sound of the ice cream truck music. It was like a sign. Ice cream needed me...I needed ice cream. Alas, it was not meant to be. I walked to safety of my vehicle and drove home. No vaginas were injured on this day, no ice cream ingested. Small victories. The Rug Doctor would be proud.
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