Three for the Price of One

   I am officially promoting the new HBO series "Girls" to any woman who suffered through her early twenties and felt she barely made it through alive. Its a show about the emotional little wars we all bare scars from to this day. Basically, if you have a sense of humor at all, you'll love it.

  There's even some funny shit and soft porn in there for the guys. The "soft" part meaning awkward and hilarious. Watch it. Laugh. Thank me later.

Spring is finally the f*** here.


   Oregon is a ridiculous place to be during the 9 months of suicide inducing winter that all who are masochistic enough to live here, endure every year. As if working in a field where the suicide rate is above all others, I just happen to also live in the state that is Seattle's (suicide capital of the U.S.) dirty, little redneck cousin. Oregon. We have just as many people on the ledges out here as Seattle during those 9 months of soul-choking rain, but Seattle gets all the press due to its famous offing of rock legend Kirk Cobain.

   Every Spring my spirit awakes from its coma-like stupor, and I remember that I am still alive and not just the white vaporish remains of a girl I used to know. It takes about a week of slowly introducing my body to the sun for objects to not be seen through my translucent skin and for my atrophied lips to remember how to smile again.

While looking like a Vampire has its perks, its really only appreciated in places like New York and some parts of L.A.

Back to Assisting. If one chooses this profession, despite having enough common sense to not walk into walls, one must be ready to defend what little self-respect they still have. One cute trick to is drop the temperature in the room by ten degrees if someone makes a thinly veiled shitty comment not-quite directed, but most certainly directed, at you. Smile, as you are not really allowed any other expression (not required for this position) but your eyes should speak unmentionable horrors for the assailant.

   This tactic is sometimes referred to as being "passive-aggressive"; I just think of it as being "mime aggressive". Voicing my true feelings would surely get me fired while emoting them through body language seems to get the job done.

   Reserve this tactic for the folllowing:  Dentists who treat you like "The Help", catty office bitches still living out their high school years into adulthood or for patients who insist on taking out their mommy issues on you.

Bitch slap them with your eyes and tell them to "Have a nice day."