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It’s been brought to my attention that I have a knack for convincing the good people in my world I’m competent until it’s much too late for them to do anything about it. It was brought to my attention recently when I mentioned to a friend that I was changing jobs and she said she wants to change jobs, too, but she doesn’t feel competent in anything that’s open on the market right now. I laughed at her naiveté and told her that competency has nothing to do with it. I personally am not capable of carrying out the duties of my current job and I failed miserably at my old job…I spread my incompetence around like a STD but I’ve mastered the art of appearing to be quite thoughtful and able to do many tasks. Now you can, too!
• You need to go to LensCrafters or some asshole hobbit eye doctor and get thick rimmed librarian glasses.
• You should put your hair in a bun, no matter your gender.
• In the course of a conversation, pick something you know about (however little) and pretend to have a strong opinion about it. They will wilt in your knowledge because if you are vehement, you clearly know what you’re talking about. For example, when I was 19 or 21 there were elections going on that I knew nothing about but I was in college and wanted to appear knowledgeable. Or simply repeat someone else’s vehemence (is that a word?) as your own conclusion. I listened to a pundit sarcastically say that Pat Buchanan wanted to nuke the borders to keep the illegal immigrants out. I repeated this in political conversations numerous times at my university and got raves for really knowing my stuff.
• Mention research or statistics. Peoples eyes go dead and they bow down to someone who knows research or can read it. Even if you haven’t touched the research. Spout facts and the people will be believe in your ability. TRUST ME! Note: you don’t even have to spout facts if you don’t want to. Most people will not question you. For example, if you start talking about standardized tests, and you say, “statistically speaking, there is no way for everyone to “pass” a test based on a bell curve so “rigor” cannot be determined by an invalid test,” who is really going to challenge you?
• Make bulleted lists when you go into a staff meeting or when you write a bullshit blog. Be sure to have enough bullet points to seem comprehensive and give pointless details to make the bullet points seem especially important. For example, use “for examples” frequently. Note: Titling your lists as “how to” also gives credence to the idea that you actually know how to do something.
• Shake your luminous hair out with a pensive look on your face. You know how to look competent…you’ve made it this far, right?
Guest blog post by Bryan Borland, in MedicatedLady’s absence
I was honored when MedicatedLady asked me to write a guest-post in her absence. Well, not so much honored as burdened. And she didn’t ask me so much as I demanded. Such is our relationship.
MedicatedLady is, at this moment, touring our nation’s capitol. Her trip is unrelated to the House’s recent passing of healthcare legislation, though, even so, a group of teabaggers resolved not to pay for MedicatedLady’s medication through public funding and took to protesting her visit. MedicatedLady did happen to snap a photograph of one of their crudely-drawn signs (Damn those Republicans!):
In other news, MedicatedLady would like for me report that the closest she’s come to an intimate encounter with a man while on this trip was when she entered a taxi to discover the cabbie had recently completed an intimate encounter with himself. To distract MedicatedLady, he then proceeded to blast the news at eardrum-bursting levels and got snippy with MedicatedLady when she couldn’t hear or understand his probing questions (which, no doubt, were meant to fuel future self-gratuity). Being the gracious woman she is, MedicatedLady simply stared straight ahead and shook her luminous hair until she arrived at her destination.
For your further entertainment, I will now provide a sampling of text messages I’ve received from MedicatedLady in the last month or so:
My dog just peed on me.
Say to yourself, herbs! With an audible “h.” This will bring you joy.
OMG severe storms make my ovaries and left knee hurt.
You can expect more of our mutual charm when MedicatedLady and I finally video-blog together the first weekend in April. We’ll be handing out advice to you, Dear Readers, so if there are any problems in your life you would like us to address, now is the time to send in your questions. For example, are you having trouble with the menz? Do you suffer from paraurisis, the disorder that makes urination in public places near impossible? Are you allergic to love and love byproducts? Did your cleaning lady break your vacuum cleaner? Do you have trouble spelling the word vacuum? Do you hate MedicatedLady because she has a cleaning lady? Does your dog shit on the floor and grind it into the tile to spite you? Does your mother hate the purse you carry? Did you lose your virginity to a mode of transportation? Do you constantly get mistaken for a 12-year-old girl? We can help you out with these issues and more, so don’t be shy.
We certainly won’t.
*Him being a clueless male and not my faithful dear readers.
- Say okay to cuddling, as in his definition of cuddling, not yours.
- Say alright to things you’d rather not do.
- Send a defaced Hallmark card. (Specifically, if you are sending said card to a Straight Man, be sure to include “fuck”; otherwise, he will not understand. He will ask you if you’re on your period.)
- Take off your pants.
- Say, “excuse me, sir, would you mind giving a little girl a good, hard [insert appropriate word/phrase here].
- Ignore him. Nothings says “I love you” to a man like pretending he doesn’t exist. Do NOT tell him you care.
- Laugh at not-funny jokes.
- Stack your limited cookbooks in plain sight so he thinks he’s going to be the one who changes you into a Domesticated Delight.
- Call him [insert name], but add that you like that about him.
- Give him a private pet name. Try to forget any references to human pets.
- Get sassy.
- Put on your sexy lipgloss.
- Send him a suggestive electronic message. (“What are you wearing?” works usually although I did text that as a joke to my ex-boyfriend and his daughter read it and he had to give her some excuse about how I bought him a shirt for his birthday and that I wanted to know if he was wearing it. Still, don’t feel sorry for him because he was an asshole.).
- Don’t use more than 3 words in a sentence. It’s best to keep it simple.
- Shake out your luminous hair.
- Create lists. Many, many lists.
- Breathe sighs of relief that you are keeping yourself silent.
- Drink Coke Zero.
- Feel guilty about drinking Coke Zero and go get some water.
- Watch your hard-won tan fade.
- Remember your luminous hair and shake it out for good measure.
- Distract yourself with all sorts of insignificant things all day. For example, how many tissues are cluttering up your desk anyway?
- Look for a pet online that you are completely inept to care for.
- Breathe a sign of relief that you don’t have time to go to the pound today to adopt a pet you are completely inept to care for.
- Consider your ineptitude for caring for yourself. This will offer amusement.
- Exercise and eat well.
- Try to call AT&T. You will not be able to actually speak to anybody who can do anything for you because they sense when you’re about to break up with them and this relationship is all they have.
- Think of the mayhem that is about to ensue in your book about people dying horribly and how you will be haunted very soon by the images you create in your head.
- Go to Family Dollar. Yes, it’s ghetto but it’s also fabulous.
- Plan how many hours of sleep you are going to get tonight.
- Enjoy Bryan’s descriptions of your heart condition.
- Appreciate that Keith Urban, even though he is exceptionally well-groomed (to a troubling extent).
- Make a hair appointment.
- Make an appointment for a one-hour massage in August.
- Worry if your dates in the next two weeks are going to judge you harshly because your roots are showing.
- Continue to watch your tan fade.
- Fondly remember the time long ago (say, 2-3 weeks ago) when you were fond of that horny Airman.
- Let the good people of the world know that you know what a chapbook is now and how Bryan patiently explained this to you 5 different ways because he thinks you a simpleton, even though you told him you understood his definition the first time he explained it.
- Correct emails that are sent to you, grammatically-speaking. You can do this mentally or in a Word document.
It’s happened. A continuation of a saga I thought was as over as it was going to be.
Maybe it’s predictable. But the wind is knocked out of me and I feel as though my life depends on how I recover my breath.
My ex-boyfriend emailed me, asking how the world was treating me. When I saw his name in my inbox, I started shaking. I felt like crying. Now, I’m just shaken.
How long have I wanted to hear from him. How long have I wanted to tell him off. How long did I ache because of him. I still want to tell him off, but I do not want to open Pandora’s Box. It is a bitch to close. I resent this shit being brought up again. Let me do a brief refresher: My ex was an asshole. He told me in bed that he had no affection to give me. But apparently he had other sinister things to give, which have since cleared up, but who can forgive someone for making them skank.
And so since I’m trying to stay in my right mind and not having a knee-jerk reaction, Bryan has encouraged me to take this to my blog and faithful readers. And I will say this: Bryan is probably one of my biggest supporters when it comes to the menfolk. He does understand that there is a lot of first-hand learning that must go on in a girl’s life. He also said this is a good thing because even though I am stunned, this gives me a chance to control “closure.”
- No response. Stony silence.
- “Well, ex-boyfriend, the world recently told me in bed the other day that it had no affection for me and then gave me a STD.”
- Part 1: “Fuck.”
- Part 2: “You.”
- Nothing. No stony silence, no tell-off. Just be strong and leave it be. I’m not sure I’m strong enough.
- “The world is treating me great.”
- “The world is treating me great since I got the restraining order.”
- “Well, to tell you the truth, there are no sunshine and rainbows. Let me catch you up to speed: a friend of mine got jumped by a grizzly bear and a “grizzly bear” if you know what I mean, I suffered the loss of my aunt, I have had approximately 1.5 mental breakdowns since we last spoke and approximately 1.5 of them were a direct result of you, I hate peas. I have had a guy leave the country without telling me, had one who wanted to cuddle, one who is very available, one who emailed what is the most confusing rejection slip I’ve ever gotten (to be highlighted soon on this blog, if I get bored), one who was leaving the country to go fight in Afghanistant when I met him, and one who is a therapist…”
- “I’m not going there with you.” (This was his response whenever I wanted to talk about horrible things like feelings and meaning.)
- Send a link to this blog so that technically all responses are delivered.
- Any ideas? Thoughts of encouragement? Truly, I would love your input and I can assure you I have affection for you, dear reader, and I will not give you a STD.
- Questions for the masses, specifically you, dear reader:
- Do you think it’s acceptable to have an irrational urge to have an Airman?
- Why do guys who are available make me uneasy?
- What are human pets?
- Can you motivate me to lose weight? I’m getting chunky. My mother said so.*
- Black is the best fair-weather non-color there is. I recommend it. However, even if it’s supremely cute, one might find it best to avoid wearing the black lace top when one has an itchy sunburn. Savvy?
- I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain?
*Bless her heart, my mother does not mean to be mean. She just says what’s on her mind and well…it’s not always the most tactful. Also, she resents having me as a daughter…she really wanted Bryan.
Dear Medicated Lady,
“Can you define ‘irony’?”
I am reading a book about this schizophrenic lady who goes on rants, creating the proverbial word salad. Now. I shall attempt to answer your question in the same format.
Irony? Because I need more iron siren, crying. Do you cry? Why are you crying? Why are you trying to kill me? Killing shilling do you like the English? Cheerio. [indecipherable singing]
Dear Medicated Lady,
Oh no! My dealer just prescribed me Wellbutrin to pair with my Zoloft… But I think if I lather, rinse, repeat and fluff! I should be alright, no?
This combination is actually quite good, I think. See, Wellbutrin has an “energizing” effect (read manic), which is confusing for people who stay in bed for weeks. I remember seeing sunshine…until I started having gruesome and vivid images of me hurting myself. The problem is I feared for my life because I had energy, where before it was simply too much work to go through with personal injury. However, Zoloft has a much more calming effect. I didn’t notice it helping depression as much as anxiety…which means it sucks the energy and emotion right out of you. So, I think you could benefit from the true antidepressant properties of Wellbutrin since you’ll have the two meds duking it out on the energy front.
Don’t commit suicide.
The creating of luminous hair always makes things better. Remember to shake it out.
Dear Medicated Lady,
I’ve heard Ambien and Lunesta both have side effects such as ‘driving while sleeping’. Can you confirm or deny this?
Lastly, perhaps you could get alimony from Bryan??
You’ve come to the right person.
I can confirm that Ambien will fuck you up and you will not remember much about it (and only will it come back to you in a fuzzy state if it’s brought to your attention by other people or evidence of your transgressions). For example, I was an Ambien texter. Lord only knows (and maybe Bryan) how many crazy texts I sent out, some of which got me in major trouble since I sent them to my should-have-been ex. So I ended up getting myself back in his clutches time and time again. Also, I’ve been told that I’ve fallen asleep for several minutes while talking to people on the phone or I (allegedly) tell people I’m “crackers” and I’m dating a guy from “beef.” Also, I had this “dream” where I was driving on the interstate one night and I realized I was driving under the influence of some medication and was not staying in my lane. I had a momentary sense that I shouldn’t be out. One can only hope this truly was a dream. Now, do not get me wrong. Ambien was pretty much worth it in my opinion.
Perhaps pairing it with benadryl was not the best idea, seeing how it made the effects that much more potent. But what I learned is that I could very easily enjoy an Ambien-only diet if only I could have it. It’s a punch drunk feeling. Also, I would marry it if the politicians weren’t so gun-ho about the Bible saying people should only be allowed to marry people and not inanimate objects.
Lunesta made me sleepy and I had no episodes in which I questioned whether I ruined my life the night before. However, a word of warning: Lunesta is expensive as hell. Ambien has a generic version.
Hope this helps.
P.S. I would ask for alimony but then Bryan would call me and demand we “settle up” all the time and it would piss me off.
Dear Medicated Lady-Pot,
*this novel of a comment has been truncated due to sheer length and copious amounts of bullshit and lies*
Perhaps you should re-evaluate your relationship with this Bryan person. Ask yourselves *yes, plural* did he really mean to helicopter you out of the swing and break your ass? Or was he simply trying to give you affection and show you a good time? When he sprayed you in the eye with cherry air freshener, was he simply being a concerned friend and didn’t have a way to tell you that you smelled bad? When he folded you up into the wall-bed, was he actually attempting to – well, sorry – on this one, I’ve got nothing. Regardless, I would submit to you that despite your posturing as the victim, you are not the battered gay housewife in the relationship – this Bryan person is.
I’ve found that quite often abusers find a way to blame the abused. Like that time a guy got mad at me for making his bed the way I wanted to and accused me of wanting to change and manipulate him. Did this Bryan character intend to consistently attack me? Bryan knows my luck. Bryan is in love with my luck. Bryan likes to see what I do with life’s lemons…and in effect creates situations in which I have to suffer and overcome obstacles. Or simply suffer. Or suffer and go to bed for weeks.
Also, more evidence. Bryan once fell and cracked his ankle and used it as an excuse to refuse to go parasailing.
Also, are you trying to kill me?
Dear Meded One,
When you host “Bindo’s Eulogy Slam” with what’s his face, I would like everyone to be given free meds at the door. I figure that the meds I have not taken and the amount it would have cost is quite substantial, but my request stands. I would offer the royalties from my book sales to help out but alas, I doubt it would cover a days supply.
To cut costs, I shall begin to save all the samples I get at my doctor’s. That way, the people can flock in and get a taste to see what they like and don’t like. For those who find chemical heaven, I will have my shrink available for wholesale prescriptions and such. He’s a very nice man. He will ask you to rate your depression on a scale from 1 to 10 and you will frantically try to come up with a number, but you won’t remember numbers. And you won’t remember what you said last time, so you can’t remember what you have to go on in comparison. You will feel the awkwardness of the moment and still not have an answer. The doctor will write something in his notes.
You might ask him if he’s trying to kill you.
Dear Medicated Lady,
Can you please change the blog roll website you have posted for me?
Consider my freckles as what, sexy lady? (In reference to my writing blog last week.) Beauty marks? Connect the dots
in a tattoo parlor to resemble the Milky Way?
Hey! That’s visually appealing. Can I use that
for my next piece? XXX for a triple threat?
Dearest U. Tree,
I cannot help you. However, I will have my technical assistant and chief manipulator, Bryan, get on this right away.
Feel free to use this as a XXX supposition. I was intentionally vague as to the consideration of freckles so that the reader could consider all possibilities. My brother used to look for constellations in my freckles. I also have a freckle birthmark on the side of my face that looks like a thumbprint. So somehow, some way, Uncle, you get my cosmic melatonin and I certainly can appreciate that.