You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Medicated Lady’ tag.

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.

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.

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

IF HER NAME HAD BEEN ERICA
*Poem written by poeticgrin

If her name had been Erica,
things would have worked out

differently.

In fifth grade
the stylist would have given her
a Hollywood hairdo
rather than
a too-short perm
and
JC would have noticed her then,
and invited her
to watch him play
football.

He would have fallen
madly in love with her
and written
JC + ET = 2gether
4Ever
on the inside
of his trapper keeper.

He would have spent
Saturday nights
at the decrepit old one-screened theater,

and held her hand
like he was never letting go
at least until
seventh grade

when she’d break
JC’s heart
and stamp him out
like
a fire
burning
a photo
of a girl
named medicatedlady.

I thought you’d like to know
that this Dayquil
is making me tic like
crazy.
It’s like the ticking of yesteryear.
Argh!

Best not ask if She speaks
Easy
You never know what She might say or when or who She might
Offend
Never mind the look, a glimmer from some old, beaten
Dream
Else you strike the match
Rage

If I wished at all
I would not wish you well
I’d wish for hell
For you to burn
And turn fitful
In your waking and night dreams

I’d wish for your demise
That if you couldn’t be happy with me
You couldn’t be happy at all
I’d wish for your joy to be extinguished
Your life to be hollow and barren
Your days to be filled with endless time and questions

I’d wish you dead
On the inside
On the other side
Where I was forbidden to go
Cast out
I’d wish
If I wished at all

The walls are vacant
The laughter has died
All, all the gray has left a putrid residue of black
The Abyss has opened up and swallowed us all whole

Crazy
I was crazy once
The birds flew around my head
Nested in my hair
I laughed
Ha Ha
He He
You made me like this
You made me insane
Ha Ha
He He
The peptwat inside screams
Sounds like a little old lady in heat
Time ticks slowly, quickly
I look for you
Long gone
Know you are the one who’s insane
Just wish they’d make shampoo
That would drive bluejays out

Settle in your new chair
At your new computer
At your new desk
Into your new hairdo
Your new clothes
Your new friends
Your new life
And know you’re your same old self
And you will forever burn
For what you’ve done

SOB with me

Blog Stats

  • 29,132 hits

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 51 other followers

EMAIL ME

at MedicatedLady@yahoo.com, loria29@gmail.com Or Facebook Me: www.facebook.com/loriataylor3

CopyScape

Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape
%d bloggers like this: