It's So Hard To Type With A Gun In My Mouth Read Online Free Page A

funny enough or... enough. It's the anxiety. I have suffered from it most of my life. I remember telling a nurse, "I think I'm having a heart attack."  I was 8 at the time.
     
    Anxiety is anger turned inward...or is that depression, I always get the two confused.  They are my constant companions.  With me it's non descript anxiety. That means for no reason I wake up one morning wanting to rip my heart out, stomp it on the floor and dance the Meringue.  It's a healthy way to start the day. NO? Over the years and after sitting in God knows how many shrink’s offices, I've learned to ride it like a wave. It passes, it always does, and it doesn't kill me unless I let it. So it's lots of deep breaths and moves forward one step at a time.
     
    Oh, and one other thing. To that woman that wrote me and said..." Boy, you're negative. I couldn't live around so much negativity."  FUCK YOU LADY.
     
     
     
     
    February 20, 2006 - I SEE A KAISER
     
    So here's today's agenda. I have a doctor's appointment. Why? It appears my blood pressure is stroke level. It's genetic. Some people get blonde hair and washtub abs... I get high blood pressure and an allergy to Shrimp. I belonged to Kaiser, an HMO. A Horrible Medical Organization. It's easier to get a real Kaiser to treat you. Once I fell and thought I broke my leg. I was rushed to the Kaiser Emergency room. On the wall was a sign, "Time heals all wounds".  And who would want to go to a doctor who thinks Kaiser is what he went to Medical School for. I think I'd rather live in the Mexican desert and wait for one of those planes. You know, the ones from Houston full of doctors who take big moles of Mexican Children.... with a camera crew.  So dedicated. And how about that Doctor on 90210? There's a nervous breakdown waiting to happen. I wouldn't let him touch me if I had a foot growing out of my eye socket.
     
    So today I go to the doctor's and after that I wait for my credit card to come. OH didn't I tell you. NO CREDIT card... I tracked it; it's on the truck somewhere outside St Louis. Oh joy oh rapture. By the time I get it I'll be too old to shop.
     
    3:40 pm
     
    Well, I'm back from Kaiser. I'm on blood pressure medication and officially have become my grandfather.  It's all down hill from here. I'm looking for a coupon for walkers.
     
    So let me tell you what a visit to Kaiser is like. I walk into the waiting room and they've got Jerry Springer on the TV.  Jerry Springer in a doctor's office... that's like playing the Osama Bin Laden tapes at a Bar Mitzvah. The most intellectual magazine I could find was American Rifle with four of the pages stuck together.  I take a seat between Lenny from "OF MICE AND MEN" and two women... one wet, just out of the shower, and one with her hand in a cast and in desperate need of a shower. They are gripped by the Springer show. I guess they never saw a transvestite hooker who was looking for his birth mother from a prison line up. Suddenly, shower girl takes out a brush and begins combing her flaxen locks onto my pants. Mid comb she parts her hair, bends over and shows her scalp to the "dirty girl".  They looked like two baboons grooming.  The door opens and the nurse shouts out, "Roger R. ". No one moves.  "Roger R." Nothing.  "Roger Ripellli?" Lenny gets up. I guess the "R" thing threw him.
     
    I am called next "Steve Blue-sssss---t-t-t-" I'm in the door. Now here's something I need to know. Shouldn't the nurse look at you when she's taking your history? This girl is so detached I'm beginning to think I sexually assaulted one of her children.  She takes my blood pressure and gives off a reassuring "Whoa!!"   The doctor comes in and I remember why I go to him. He knows my name, he knows my history, he's concerned and..... HE'S A JEW!  I got the only Jewish doctor in Kaiser without a prison record.  He wants to see me in a couple of months, I fill my prescription and I'm outta there.
     
    On the way home I stop at Trader Joes.