Ahhh, lovin' the medicated life

*Disclaimer:  Since it has been two months since I last wrote a post, Blogger has changed their format and I can't figure a thing out.  It took me over five minutes just to figure out HOW to write a post...so it can only go downhill from here.

About two months ago (exactly when I quit writing) I was prescribed Zoloft for depression and anxiety.  I didn't realize how much my anxiety was affecting me until it was gone.  Suddenly, I could drive without screaming obscenities...I could visit the grocery store without my blood pressure shooting way up....I stopped wanting to punch just about anyone I talked to....I have stopped being all yelly at just about any customer service rep.  I am now calm and composed.  I am the honey badger - I just don't care.  Zoloft is magic! 

I have been enjoying the new me.  I am not a fake happy, I have just lost my scary edge.  But, it was my edge that also gave me my funny (ie - cynical) view on life.  Hence the lack of posting for a while.

Until yesterday.  I needed an eyebrow wax...desperately!  I stopped at WalMart two days in a row and they were too busy to do it.  Really?  That many people get their hair cut at WalMart?  Not really.  One day the employee was drying her own hair.  I don't know why.  I guess it was wet.  But I couldn't get my brows done because she was doing her own hair.  I didn't yell.  I didn't get sarcastically rude (which is often lost on the type of employee who would dry their own hair in front of waiting customers).  I just looked at her and left. 

I went to the mall and decided on a whim to go to the brow kiosk outside of Barnes & Noble.  Because I thought getting my eyebrow hairs yanked out with dental floss in the middle of the mall was a good idea.  The girl that barely spoke English took my glasses away and had me climb into the torture chair. 

She first offered to remove my moustache.  I tried to inform her I didn't have a moustache and she shoved a mirror in my face and pointed to absolutely nothing above my lip.  I assured her I didn't have a moustache and she started poking my upper lip.  I finally convinced her that I liked my invisible facial hair and she went to work on my wooly worm eyebrows.  As she was twisting the string around my eye area a guy walked up to the counter.  All I could see was a bald, mostly red blob. 

Reddish blob - "I can go out to my truck and get my lawnmower.  It'd make your job easier."

Girl who spoke little English - "huh?"

Reddish blog - "My LAWNMOWER!  Looks like you need it to tackle that job!"

By the time his comments made it through my Zoloft Shield of Happiness he had wandered off.   So now I had been insulted not once, but twice.  First by the girl insinuating that I had high testosterone levels and some stranger who thought it was appropriate to offer the use of his lawn care equipment on my forehead.

As I paid I asked the girl where the guy went.

Girl who spoke no English - "huh?"

Me - "The guy.  The lawnmower guy.  I want to know where he went."

Girl who barely knew what planet she was on just pointed out to the center of the mall.  I knew I couldn't find the comedian because all I knew was that he was fat and in a red shirt.  Along with about 10 other men within sight.  I don't know what I would have said to him if I found him.  But I knew it wouldn't be pretty. 

My edge was back.