Archive for the ‘Screw Him I Never Want To Speak To Him Again’ Category

How I Knew I Needed To Stop Seeing A Certain Therapist

July 17, 2013


So I see a therapist on the regular. I’ve been through maybe…five(?)… since the mid-90s. There have been some good ones that should be credited with my continued existence, and a couple of “eh” ones that ended up just being amusing anecdotes from my past. The following is about one of those.

While working in Wakefield for a number of years, I began seeing a gay male psychologist in not-even-nearby Beverly. Therapy wasn’t going well. Mainly because I wanted to sleep with my therapist. He was a burly salt-and-pepper sort who constantly wore snug trousers that highlighted his broad buttocks and he would laugh at my jokes with a boyish giggle that sent me (and my genitals) swooning. Our arrangement wasn’t very therapeutic. This became evident during one session when he confessed that he had “trouble being professional” around me. Oh, good. Like I inspire you not to do your job? I’m too far gone to take seriously? People wonder why I drink so much.

But I liked being a patient that he looked forward to seeing, even if it was just because I was an extra amusing part of his day. Being the class clown makes me feel like I have a reason for being around. That feeling was one of the reasons why I was IN therapy. So you see the cyclical dilemma I was experiencing with this therapist.

My attraction to this dude grew more and more. I started to seriously debate whether I could land him or not, and then thought about what a special moment that would be in my life. Torrid! And seedy when you think about it. I would be the wanton slut who caused a man to defy the Hippocratic Oath just so he could show me what those trousers were holding so snugly. It didn’t help that, back at the office, more than a few co-workers told me that they had crushes on their own therapists. So it was an office full of neurotics that were all fantasizing about nailing their shrinks. Our Christmas parties were legend.

My crush on my therapist, and the perceived sexual tension between us, was slashed to ribbons one day when he called me fat. He didn’t just come out and say “you’re fat.” And he didn’t try to broach the subject in a therapeutic, counseling-type manner. It was something he had been secretly thinking and that he accidentally blurted out.

He was leading me through guided meditation, designed to relieve stress and be “in the now”.

A transcript:

Shrink: Your eyes are closed. Now take some deep breaths. Hear the sound of my voice. Follow what I say.

Me: *breathes*

Shrink: Picture a ball of light. It’s warm and comforting. It starts at the tip of your toes. It moves across them, taking away all your stress, all your pain. Now it’s rising and moving slowly and gently over your feet. It’s healing light absorbs all the fatigue, and all the negativity. Now it’s reached your ankles. You can feel the light reflecting upwards. It’s so soothing and warm. You’re beginning to feel totally relaxed and at peace. Now it’s going past your calves and it’s reached your knees, healing as it goes. Absorbing all the tension. Now it’s at your big thighs…

Me: *my eyes popped open* WHAT? Did you say ‘big thighs’? *incredulous*

Shrink: Sorry! Sorry, just – I meant…your thighs…close your eyes again and let me guide you back…

I looked at him for a second. The sonofabitch was SMIRKING. He was blushing. But he was also SMIRKING. And then he gave that giggle again!

My eyes closed again, as he tried to talk me back into that halcyon meadow or whatever and the ball of light came back. But the ball of light was having an issue. The ball of light barely emitted a glow now BECAUSE MY THIGHS WERE TOO FUCKING FAT TO ALLOW IT TO CAST ANY LIGHT ON THE REST OF MY BODY. This bitch just threw shade at my fat legs! I didn’t feel at peace. I felt betrayed! He was looking at my thighs and thinking “damn, he’s got some pudge on those ham hocks” and then accidentally said it!

I decided then and there that I would no longer be utilizing his services. And that his buttocks were not “broad” but “fat, fatter than the fattest things!”

Now I only see lesbian therapists. They could give a shit if I’m fat or not. Or if they do, they’ve got the internal editor switched on to “THINGS NOT TO TELL HIM”.

Mel Gibson Said WHAT?!?!

July 1, 2010

Feel free to pull that trigger, Dan.

Feel free to pull that trigger, Dan.

Sugartits himself didn’t get the message the first time he was caught in a racist-ass meltdown and he’s gone back to the “Fuck, did they get that on tape?” buffet.

The story is that Mel Gibson and his post-divorce impregnated jumpoff , Oksana Grigorieva, are currently embroiled in a restraining order swordfight. And Oksana just jabbed her sword up his ass by providing the court with tapes she recorded of Mel being verbally abusive about the way she dressed. And don’t think he didn’t drop the N-bomb when he thought he was behind closed doors. So black people can now join our Jewish friends in driving by and throwing flaming bags of feces on Mel’s reputation.

Radar says that the following gems are on tape for the divorce court’s delight. Can Oksana just order diamond tiara now or does she have to wait until this is notarized?

“You’re an embarrassment to me. You look like a fucking pig in heat, and if you get raped by a pack of n***ers, it will be your fault.

“How dare you act like such a bitch when I have been so fucking nice.”

“I am going to come and burn the fucking house down… but you will blow me first.”

“Look what you did to me… look what you are… look what every part of you is… fucking fake… fucking fake. You are the most synthetic person… who the fuck are you?”

That first one is nice. Does Danny Glover know that Mel feels that way? Would Danny and his “pack” show up to rehearsal and rub Mel’s racist ass the wrong way on the set of Lethal Weapon 1 – Aught Four or something?

Mel’s done, right? This would be “done?”

And next time I want to get blown, I’ m telling Scotty that I’m setting the apartment on fire. Does that actually work? Anyone?

Chris Brown Had Better Sob!

June 28, 2010
MJ should be looking down at him like "Really? Really, Chris?"

The BET Awards were held last night, and Chris Brown was responsible for the Michael Jackson tribute (he died a year ago around this time). They couldn’t get Usher? At least Usher didn’t punch a lady about the head and shoulders. That we know of. Sure, Usher is an annoying twat but he didn’t try to launch a album on the heels of a domestic abuse charge, either. And Usher can dance! Sorta. He does a lot of kinda sluggish popping and locking and a couple of steps, usually down stairs that light up. Seriously, shoulda gone with Usher.

Oh, and the gist of this post is that Bust-her Brown got all choked up during his tribute and couldn’t finish singing “Man in the Mirror.” I’d get weepy, too, if I had Ike Turnered my girlfriend and everyone found out about it and my career did that thing that dirgible did back in the 1800s when the announcer was screaming and it just BLEW UP and not in a good way. And then had to look in a mirror.

(Sorry, the video is such a suckjob, but BET is being hainty about the rights.)

He was so tearstricken that he reportedly had to be led off the stage by Jermaine Jackson. So the debate is on as to whether he was really touched by an angel known as MJ or staging the emotional flash flood to get the public back on his side. I am one cynical bitch, so I’m going to say he’s crying because of all the bits of green paper that are currently flying out of his windows.

To get over this farce, we need to pray over the outfit Prince wore to the show last night. It will fill you up and put you firmly on the path you need to be on. Because someone needs to wear a spaceship turtleneck with their own likeness emblazoned about it. And his name is Prince. And he is funky.

Girlfriend is lookin' like Malificent and the Grinch had a baby lately...

Girlfriend is lookin' like Malificent and the Grinch had a baby lately...

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Sandy Bullock Is Classy (No Joke)

June 7, 2010
Ok, maybe I got just a slight boner off this...

Ok, maybe I got just a slight boner off this...

Here’s Sandy Bullock making her second (she appeared at some guys’ awards show that isn’t as popular first) public appearance since her Nazi went and found his ass a new Eva Braun at the MTV Movie Awards last night.

Here’s the clip:

Vodpod videos no longer available.

more about "‘Can We Please Go Back to Normal?’", posted with vodpod

So she wants normalcy. Can’t blame her. Also, Betty White makes ovary jokes. Even better. Can Betty White just talk about her inner workings at every awards show? I would much rather hear about her downstairs at length than ever see Kristen Stewart’s grouch ass again.

Sandy IS class. Because I would have gotten up there and discussed everything from Jesse James’ butt acne to that Nazi hooker’s Easy Bake gas chamber for Jews in her basement. I would have gone off on penis size, breath, how he married me for money, how she obviously came out of a crack pipe, etc. There woulda been a big fucking reckoning on that stage. Ryan Reynolds would have cried into his abs a little from the ferocity. But Sandy doesn’t play it that way. (Although I liked when she asked Scarjo why she was there. It’s sort of what I ask about her when I see her in flicks except Ghost World and well, see the last paragraph).

I really love her. Her movies are eh, but good to go see with RiRi Harvey or watch while hungover on a Saturday afternoon before leaving to get drunk again. She just radiates America. And when I say America, I mean laid back, good people who just want to do their job and live their life and get along. Do you know what I’m saying?

Ok, granted, she is up there mostly because people feel bad for her that the thug she married ended up with every Neo-Nazi hosebag and tattoo parlor taxi dancer slut in this hemisphere. And she has more money than God. I am such a naive douche, she probably has the best PR person and media coach money can buy. Who am I kidding? She probably keeps slaves.

Oh, and as you will see – Sandy plants one on Scarjo. I felt absolutely nothing, but then again, I want to see Joey Fatone make out with the cute guy from Stargate Universe. I don’t watch that show. I just know there’s a cute guy and I don’t mean Richie Valens or the psycho from Trainspotting.

Oh, say hey and by the way. I know Iron Man 2 was a letdown for a lot of bitches. But that scene in which Scarjo spider defeats every gunman in the building was so very hot. I would actually buy the DVD to watch that one again and again. It almost (but not quite) reached the level of the Hit Girl in the library hallway with the guns scene for me. I am nerd, hear me roar.

p.s. Reader Christo supplied me with this gem. God, I look amazing. You know I already own that get-up.

J. Harvey make good sexy Russian superspy, no?

J. Harvey make good sexy Russian superspy, no?

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