Oh good, just what we needed– Kanye as the new face of mental health.
Tag Archives: xanax
Snack Break
“I just survived the first round of parent teacher conferences and the next round doesn’t start until 5:30pm. I deserve this.”
–Me, to myself, justifying this late afternoon snack*
* snack = coffee, wine, and Xanax
Lies I Tell So People Will Hate Me Less
That moment on a plane when you’re so embarrassed by your overactive bladder that you apologetically explain to the annoyed woman in the aisle seat, who is getting up for you for the 3rd time, that you’re pregnant.
You’re not pregnant. You just know that’ll make her sympathetic and less annoyed. And you’re right. It does.
What you don’t know is that this will incite an entire conversation about said make-believe fetus.
How far along am I? About 3 months. I know. It’s crazy, I’m barely showing. I’m sure that won’t last, especially with the aid of these nacho cheesier Doritos! (Woman cackles with laughter, seems less disgusted with my snack choice than she was previously).
The father? He’s amazing. Been married 3 years. He’s in Florida for business right now, so I’m meeting him at The Breakers. Yeah, I know. Ritzy. But the thing is, he, and therefore we, are richer than God. Sometimes we take baths in our dollars and I wear a bra made of diamonds. Don’t be fooled by the hole in this Old Navy hoodie I’m wearing. In public, I prefer to blend.
First child? No. We have toddler triplets. One boy and two conjoined girls. Yeah, that delivery was rough! (finish bag of Doritos, lick fingers, bust open the Toblerone).
Names? Haven’t decided yet. I like Coconut. Maybe Sunshine. Or Palm Tree. No, I’m not just naming things I’m excited to see in Florida.
Am I sure it’s ok to fly? I don’t know. Why? Is that a thing? Maybe that’s why my girls are conjoined…
Oh ok, cool. Now we’re done here.
(Note: nothing past the 4th paragraph actually happened. Except in my head. This is how I pass time on flights. It’s also the effects of Xanax).
Things You Don’t Want To Hear Your Pilot Say
I’m here at Dulles airport, in DC (well, technically VA. I think. I’ll be honest I have no idea where I am.) I’ve already had quite the chain of travel snafus trying to get to Florida, starting with my cancelled flight out of NYC and followed by the world’s worst traveling cabaret ride.
Finally, things were starting to look up. My awesome parents picked me up from the bus yesterday, took me to a lovey dinner, gave me wine, and watched SNL40 with me. As always, I was the first one asleep.
Then this morning, Dad drove me to the airport. Flight is on time. Everything is coming up roses.
Then I decided to grab a quick coffee from the only coffee option here in Terminal Z (yes. Terminal Z. What the fuck else would you expect)– Dunkin Donuts. Coincidentally, I’m standing right behind the pilot of my fight. She’s about to get to the front when the cashier announces– “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry, but we are all out of regular coffee for the next 30 minutes. Only decaf.” My pilot takes one look at her copilot and says, with a grave, dire expression, “You don’t understand how much I need this coffee.”
So like– HOW MUCH are we talking? Like I can’t fly this plane at ALL without the coffee and we need to cancel? I might fall asleep mid flight and need the copilot to take over? I might get the caffeine-withdrawal shakes and accidentally clip a mountain top? I might be so out of it that I accidentally fly us somewhere even colder than this goddamn tundra? I’m just trying to figure out how many of these Xanax to take. On top of the three I immediately popped when I first got behind you, heard you say you were flying my plane, and then watched you yawn 5 times in a row.
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