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For the record, Bryan was supposed to read his poetry at 3:15. I was in town by 2:45 when he texted me and was like, “well, it’s done and you’re a sorry excuse for a medicated lady,” which was a bit harsh but he was a diva at a gay pride event so I give him props. Fate promptly bitch-slapped me. Before and after, respectively.

I’m not sure anyone will necessarily think this is funny but it amused me. If you want a good time, go back to your old emails and read them. Share them.

To: MedicatedLady

From: Poeticgrin

Date: 2/21/05

MEMO: It has come to my attention that some members of this staff feel that it is professional to wear denim garments below their waists.  This behavior must come to an abrupt stop.  It is counterproductive and sends the wrong message to the childrens.  If I catch any of you wearing these denim garments, I shall strip you then and there and let you feel my power. 

To: MedicatedLady

From: Poeticgrin

Date: 8/18/04 

On Tragedy (a Haiku)

Weed in a taco

Broken swings, asses, and dreams

Satan’s spawn inside

 

To: MedicatedLady

From: Poeticgrin

Date: 12/2/08

(Bryan’s poem to my/our then-boyfriend (who was in the Air Force but is not Air Force John, this guy was just a “Luke”), who later left the country without telling me/us)

Dearest Airman,
How I want to fly with you,
to say your name with a heavy “K” sound

resonating in my throat long after
I’m silent.
  
I am air sick
love sick
love struck
  
lightheaded
from this quick
change
in altitude. 

 

*An email exchange between Bryan and me concerning the matter of a straight man.* Please note, we are usually completely off the mark about straight men but we have conversations like this all the time.

From MedicatedLady to Bryan: What a crybaby Air Force John is. Seriously. If he’s blowing me off, he is doing it in the strangest of ways. I am honestly perplexed. It’s probably just coming down to I’m not giving him the nookie. He’s friendly enough and kept the conversation going for hours (texting of course). He invited me to cuddle. I considered it. I said, really? He said yes. He says, I’m going to bed (he said this before as a way to get me to hurry up and come over). So I say, So are you saying I’ve missed you or to get trucking? And then he says, no, you can come cuddle w/ me. And I paused for a moment and said okay. Then I brushed my hair for him. And then I text, will see you in a few minutes. And then he says, can we reschedule? And I say, ouch, but okay. He says he’s been up since 5 and is tipsy. I say, okay. 10 minutes later. He says, I don’t want to offend you. I say, it’s all good. 20 minutes later. He says, I’m afraid I will make a move. I say, moves aren’t necessarily bad things but it just depends if you can be swatted away when it’s time to cool it. So he says, Nope (smiley face) and I say, well then there you go. 10 minutes later. He says, I’m in my underwear. I say, Um…good? He says, yeah. I say, well, underneath my pjs I’m wearing underwear too. End conversation.

Bryan’s response/translation: I think he was horny, and then he wanted sex, and he invited you over, and then he felt guilty, and then he was horny again, and then he just masturbated.

Of late, it’s been all gloomy skies and admittedly even gloomier than I care for. I am looking forward to the weekend. Last week was rough on every front. This week has been an exercise in survival (I’ve been running a week-long program for a group of high school students), but I am patting myself on the back because I’ve made it. And anyway, life is good when you have a Coke Zero and a chocolate Poptart.

Tonight, I am going to my friend’s house to eat fattening food and watching God-awful horror movies.

What amuses me is that Sunday, I will be going to church with my rather stuffy, evangelical brother and sister-in-law and then I am going to support Bryan at a gay pride pic-a-nic. So, while my brother tries to tell me that his version of Christianity is the right one and all, I will be laughing at the inside joke.

And then, next week, I will be going on vacation next Thursday. If I can find internet, I’m bound to post because unlike Bryan, I have no qualms posting while on vacation because I want to vacate my life, not my blog. Fridays and Coke Zero inspire run-on sentences.

 I’ve started to make the rounds to blogs again. You have been the many friends I have neglected the last several months, and I am glad to see you again. Bryan would tell you, as he tells everyone else, to not mind my absence, I’m in my Dark Place. You, dearest ones, have been supportive of me since I’ve been blogging and especially of late and I want to say a pitiful but heartfelt “Thank you” to you.

 So as I navigate unfamiliar waters in the Lighter-than-my-Dark-Place Place, I bid you a good day and weekend.

Hello Dearest Reader,

I have very much enjoyed blogging on wordpress these many months and I have grown very fond of many talented folks. I have wondered often, what’s going on inside this or that person’s head? So I am hoping that you will come with me as I ask fellow bloggers, what’s in your head? As always, this is intended to be both light and serious and I suppose it’s up to you to figure out what’s what.

All things start with Bryan Borland, aka poeticgrin, but I hope some of you will allow me to “interview” you in the future.

1. Meatloaf wrote a commentary about how love has bounds. Whatever he won’t do for love is irrelevant; his point is that he’s not going to let love be all-consuming. Do you find that objects in the mirror appear closer than they are?

If you listen closely to the verses, MedicatedLady, you would hear that Mr. Loaf clearly says what he won’t do for love within the song. For example, “I’ll never stop dreaming of you every night of my life” or “I’ll never forgive myself if we don’t go all the way tonight.”  Such things are never irrelevant.  If your lover says to you, “MedicatedLady, do you ever let men hit it from the back?” you might think to yourself, “Self, I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that.”  Or you might think, well, I’ve given him two of three orifices and two out of three ain’t bad.  At that point, knowing you as I do, I would have to say that you would prefer objects no where near your rear view, mirror or no.

2. Why are you cheerful when the world is dying all around you?

Generally my cheerfulness is chocolate or sex induced.   Or chocolate-sex induced.  I recommend incorporating and co-mingling the things one loves.  Unless those things include two forms of sleep medication and texting ex-flames. Or salsa and sex.  Salsa and sex do not go together either.

3. Can you write an on-the-fly poem about the wasp nest just outside my door?

STING OPERATION

We build our home with mounds of dirt
And plot a way to score: insert
Our stingers when she’s not alert
To sneak a peek, buzz up her skirt!
A flying fleet who came to flirt
We’ll show her who can make it hurt!

4. How has your writing evolved in the past year?

My writing has gone through puberty and has enjoyed a growth spurt.  I feel as if I’ve matured a bit as a poet.  I’ve learned to make the most of spacing, that within a poem, every line, every word, every punctuation mark must be significant or it should be edited out. Slashing the cliche’, the repetitive, the overly-indulgent – those are necessary things of which I’ve become aware.  I’m still working on them, but I think I am making progress.  I believe that when a writer can hit that delete button and remove unnecessary but beloved verses/lines/words, that’s progress.

5. What is your philosophy of writing the truth? Is it concrete, objective, variable? Or something else?

Nothing is concrete.  That’s why I love poetry.   Poetry is anything you want it to be.  If I have written a poem, once I send it out to the world, it’s not mine anymore.  It becomes the readers’ personal property, and those readers can shape it into anything they wish. My hope is that they shape it into something that moves them, that recalls a love or a hope or an ache.

6. How does one who is medicated inspire love and encouragement instead of inciting riots and despair?

A happy poet is an unproductive poet, M’Lady.  When my life is grand, I can count on yours to be unfortunate in some entertaining way.  When life hands you lemons, I write about them.

My poems Patio Gas Can and Since the Day I Was Born will be published in the 10th issue of Breadcrumb Scabs Magazine, one issue after Bryan Borland makes his debut in the same. Why can’t I ever be first? This is just like the time he won the creative writing award in Mrs. Matheny’s class.


I’m activating Bryan’s password-protection strategy on published poems, which is to say Bryan is password-protecting parts of this blog, which is to say even I won’t have access to it.

I have been irrevocably offended. In a poem recently submitted to me for approval/critique/kicks, someone used  two of the three word phrase I use in one of my delectable and entertaining poetic series. This violation will be worth a life time of 6’s and 8’s– never a 7!!

Dear Medicated Lady,

 

“Can you define ‘irony’?”

 

Paul

 

Dearest Paul,

 

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?

socratesoul

 

Dearest socratesoul,

 

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.

 

Medicated Lady

 

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??

 

1writegirl

 

Dearest 1writegirl,

 

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.

 

Medicated Lady

 

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.

poeticgrin-Kettle

 

Dearest pg-Kettle,

 

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?

 

ML-Pot

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.

bindo

 

Dearest bindo,

 

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.

 

Medicated Lady

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?

Uncle Tree

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.

Medicated Lady

So from time to time I get questions from people about their lives and what they should do/deal with certain situations. As a result, I’ve decided to answer some of the most pressing questions on this blog. Please, feel free to contact me with additional questions or advice.

 

Dear Medicated Lady,

I am just now learning the tricks of the trade of shaking out my luminous hair in uncomfortable situations. It’s a tall order but so far I’ve had great luck. My question is, though, how does one get not only luminous hair but sexy hair in the first place?

  • Own your roots, even if they are growing out, even if you haven’t seen them in years. Brazenly walk through your life knowing what your roots are.
  • Wash and fluff.
  • Get a side bang. That way, you can cover your eyes just so when looking up at the menfolk. They’ll either think you’re sexy or be reminded of the girl from the Ring. But someone somewhere thinks that girl is damn fine so either way, you are set.
  • Fluff some more.

 

Dear Medicated Lady,

 

What medications are you on? What for?

 

Past and present, I have been on several medications. I’ve compiled a list and my reaction to them for those who are interested in becomes Medication Persons.

 

  1. Zoloft: great for anxiety but those pesky death preoccupations still exist. It’s probably not the medicine’s fault.
  2. Valium: Curbs anxiety but my head would hurt like a mo-fo later.
  3. Alleve: I’ve taken four today and still have a headache. I wonder if over-medicating can cause rebound headaches? Surely not. Maybe one more would do the trick?
  4. Xanax: Nice, but I was only prescribed three and only took 1.5 before I became a close friend’s personal pharmacist when she was in a jam.
  5. Hydrocodone: Heavenly, especially once the pain went away and I could really enjoy it.
  6. Codeine: It was used as some form of cough syrup and seems like it made me groggy but ewww on the taste. Give me pills, I say.
  7. Tylenol: I wonder if I should get some for my headache?
  8. Wellbutrin: Even if technically, you are not bipolar, you may be driven to a manic episode and be ultra-unstable for months. Some might say you never “recover,” and your personality completely changed. Some people will say you were bipolar in their poems, although they are careful to point out that because you are not rapid cycling, they obviously weren’t talking about you.
  9. Lamictal: Mood stabilizer. I ask you, dear reader, is it working, do you think?

10.Prozac: Now, years later, I’m taking an old-school SSRI.

11. Baby aspirin: Ain’t nothing baby about it if you take 5-7 at a time.

12: Ambien: Heaven except for 1) texts and conversations and men I don’t remember writing/having/doing, and 2) it wears off too early.

13. Lunesta: Expensive and not better than Ambien.

14. Ambien CR: Works longer than Ambien but your prescription company might bitch-slap you with “we ain’t paying for your sleep relief” crap b/c you want a real fix to your problem.

15: Lisinopril: It’s supposed to help my pressures.

16: Ibuprofen: I have too much pain for any one pain reliever to take on. I think of it as a sort of medicinal “team” approach to pain.

17. Benadryl: Great for sleep and allergies. But the decongestant kind will make you crazy.

18: Some other antidepressant: Disastrous effects, but who knows exactly what it’s called.

 

The combination of meds is not advisable and you really should only use medications according to their prescribed uses. It should also be noted that the prescription should actually belong to you. Don’t steal someone else’s pills or you will wind up like my Aunt Karen’s Daughter.

 

Dear Medicated Lady,

 

What would do for a Klondike bar?

 

I don’t think it’s about what I would do for a Klondike bar. I think it’s about what Burger King can do for me. Or Ben and Jerry’s. Or pizza. Bend me over and smack my booty, sweet things.

 

Dear Medicated Lady,

 

Why are you friends with poeticgrin (Bryan) after all the horrible things he’s done to you?

 

I have been asked this question many times. The answer is simple. I am an abused gay housewife, and the people in that Mexican restaurant tried to warn me. With their searching eyes, they implored again and again, “are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” I knew what they meant. And besides, I mean, even though it seared my retina, that car spray did smell like real cherries.

I dreamt of you

today

 

though I didn’t see your face

 

I knew

it was you

 

the number was seven

and it was bright yellow

SOB with me

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