Smile! It’s a Xanax moment…..(alternative title; how to work your way through an entire packet of anti anxiety meds in less than 24 hours..)

Bloggers notes:

I would like to point out before some other smart arse does it for me that Alprazolam is not available in the UK under the name ‘Xanax’.  However, I chose to post this blog under a title which is a parody of the old Kodak advertising and ‘Smile! it’s a Alprazolam moment’ didn’t really work.  Also, I am and always have been somewhat maverick with medication.  For example, if the recommended dose is two tablets…I will take three..(or sometimes four). My body is a feisty bitch and has an unbelieveable tolerance to most medication. I had a stay in hospital a few years back after downing enough pain killers and antidepressants to knock out a rhino and the doctors were at a loss as to how I wasn’t dead. With the threats that I had done severe damage to my liver and shouldn’t drink alcohol, like EVER again still ringing in my ears, I made a full recovery.  Seriously, no malfunctioning body part is ever going to stand between me and a bottle of Côtes du Rhône……………..

  I am not for one moment suggesting that anyone else does the same, just merely pointing this out to prove that, Yes. I can get through a whole packet of anti anxiety meds in 24 hours..That is all.. Please continue reading

Xanax Moment #1

My alarm went off at 4 am.

Pills popped to dull the suicidal thoughts I often feel when I realise it’s a day with the morons and not one of my stay in bed, get up when I like and do writing stuff days = 2

Xanax Moment #2

Bizarre conversation……

Me: *dropping a whole load of envelopes on the floor* Oh for fuck sake….

Miss Portuguese Mafia-Target: Whoops you! Never mind…I am always doing things like that…

Me: Meh, me too….muppetry…story of my life….

Miss Portuguese Mafia-Target: Oh no! I’m sure you’re not as bad as I am…I wish I was more like you….

Me: Really? Maybe you should spend an hour in my head…you’d soon change your mind..hahahahaha!

Miss Portuguese Mafia-Target: *looking slightly creepy*…There are a lot of people out there…*waving hand at office window towards the main work floor* who are jealous of you…and would love to be like you….

Me: Eh?

Miss PMT: Oh, I’ve said too much already…I can feel myself getting embarrassed….*grabs paperwork and trots out of office*

This disturbed me some what as not only did the whole conversation not make any fucking sense, it also bought all the horrible memories of my ex female housemate who used to steal my dirty laundry for reasons which I don’t even want to think about, flooding back……..

Pills popped to help me with the anxious thoughts that I may now have my own stalker and need to put another bolt on the gates to my house and stop hanging my laundry (especially underwear) on the line to dry = 3

Xanax Moment #3.

My village is on a flight path from Norwich International  Airport. This isn’t generally an issue as not many planes fly over and this is mainly due to substantial delays for the following reasons:

1) By International They mean that they have posters of Australia and America on display in the check in area and they serve Chilli Con Carne in the restaurant. The bulk of the flights only go to places like Aberdeen, Jersey and other British holiday favorites such as Madgeorka (Majorca).

2) They only seem to fly over the village on a Tuesday. I suspect people are arriving all week but it takes passengers several days to work out that following check in, they need to part with £10 ‘airport tax’ or those little gates to the Duty (far from) Free and the over priced and understaffed café just don’t open. - The distinct lack of information posters explaining this is probably for the airports staff own protection. I mean, see the poster declaring it will cost you 10 quid before you check in? You’d kick off, right? And probably end up being arrested for assault and get dragged off by Air Port Police for a body cavity search. However, if you see the poster while furiously trying to stab your boarding pass into the little opening at the front of the security gates and a high viz clad member of staff taps you on the shoulder and points it out? You apologise profusely for being such a douche and are only to happy to part with your tenner to get away from the 3 mile long queue of tutting and muttering passengers built up behind you..

3) Returning passengers are subjected to a 15 hour wait in the freezing cold in a queue snaking across runways to get through passport control because they are too fricking tight to extend the passport control area or at very least erect some of those plastic bus shelter type things to keep the wind off.  Allegedly the £10 ‘air port tax’ – which incidentally up until a couple of years ago used to be a £5 ‘air port tax’ – is supposed to go towards extensive building and improvement works.  There never seems to be any evidence of improvements – and in my humble opinion, attaching large pieces of plastic sheeting to plaster board and the occasional drill noise doesn’t constitute ‘extensive building work’ – but I bet the Staff Christmas parties are fucking amazing!..Just saying…

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes! So there I was, laying in bed with Jen Lancaster (don’t even go there…) When I heard this plane in the distance..and it got louder…and louder..and louder..and the house started to shake..and there were noises coming from that plane that I really did not want to hear while it was flying over my house.  I genuinely, honest to goddess, no piss taking here, thought it was going to crash in to the row of houses. My heart literally skipped a beat as it flew over and I was waiting for the impact. I just sat in bed staring at the ceiling and shaking…I was too afraid even to go to the window and see what the fuck was happening.  Obviously it didn’t crash, but even as it flew off into the distance I was waiting for a BOOM!! as it crashed somewhere else.

Pills popped to help me cope with the trauma of almost being an air crash victim = 4.

Xanax moment #4

When I eventually drifted off to sleep, I had a dream that I was at an antiques auction. (Rock and roll. :-) ) I was interested in a set of tea cups and side plates and I had picked up 3 of the set but One Direction were also there and one of them - don’t ask me which one, they all look the same to me, but I think it was the one with the stupid sweep over hair and the scrawny body..wait? isn’t that all of them? Okay, it was the one who slept with Taylor Swift..Wait? isn’t that all of them? – Okay, one of the scrawny little skanks had the other cup and saucer and wouldn’t let me have it. Arsehole. So then I really needed to have a wee so I started looking for the toilets.  I kept asking directions but people kept sending me to the wrong place. I eventually ended up in the café area and asked a nice waitress who took me straight to the loo’s.  I thanked her and then as she was walking off down the stairs I dropped my umbrella over the banister and it hit her on the head and opened up.  I apologised to her and told her I wasn’t trying to kill her or anything and I couldn’t understand how it had opened up because I had snapped the handle off it earlier and it had gone all floppy and dead…

Pills popped to help me deal with the fact that One Direction stole my tea-cup and saucer. = 2

Xanax moment #5

I was woken up at around 3 am by the most hideous growling noise. It was like a loud dog growl and the stuff of horror movies. I jumped out of bed and hit the light switch. There, sitting in the middle of the bedroom rug was my little soft cat, hackles up, all teeth and fangs on display staring at nothing..WTF? What’s up fella?? I asked.  He kind of came out of a trance, done a little kitty cough folded his nasty teeth away and started mewing at me like a kitten….So now what do I think? Was he having a similar odd dream to me involving stolen tea cups and out of control brolly’s? Is my house haunted? Is he a wolf in kitty clothing?

Pills popped to cope with the shock that mummy’s little boy sweetness snuggle kitten may in fact be an evil snarling vicious beast (or indeed the infamous Hooge Poomah) in a soft, fluffy coat = 3

Xanax moment #6

My alarm went off at 04.00 throwing me initially into a state of disbelief, then panic, then sheer anger that it only seemed like 5 minutes ago since it was 9 o’clock the previous night and it was indeed another moron day.

Pills popped to mute my aggression = 2

So there we have it! 24 hours and 16 happy pills.  Not bad! Yay me! *pats self on back*.  And just for the record the total so far today remains at 2. – Though I did almost inhale the rest of the packet when I thought I had deleted this entire post during editing about 20 minutes ago….


12 thoughts on “Smile! It’s a Xanax moment…..(alternative title; how to work your way through an entire packet of anti anxiety meds in less than 24 hours..)

  1. re: Madgeorka (Majorca) = I always thought it was pronounced “My Orca” as in “This big killer whale I own” but, according to several younger women with whom I worked, your pronunciation is correct. And since you’re from England and you, personally, invented our language, I have to err on the side of you. And righteousness. If I still spoke to them, I would call those girls and apologize for being such a snot to them regarding the pronunciation of Majorca.
    And then there was Ibiza. Several years back, Escada came out with a womens perfume called Ibiza Hippie. I worked in a perfume shop at the time. My co-workers always told customers to try “I Be Za Hippie”, laughing at how cute that was. I be za hippie. NO! I BE ZA HIPPIE! I SO MUCH HIPPIER ZAN YOU! Once again, my misplaced cultural awareness lead me to correct them; I informed them, “It’s pronounced ‘Eye Bee Thuh’” and they said, “No. It’s I Be Za,” and I said, “No, it has something to do with some old king of Spain having a lisp and rather than having people giggle at his speechery, he just made a proclamation that all Z’s and S’s were to be pronounced as “th” and that has stayed on in some areas.” Only, now I suspect I made that all up and it probably really IS I Be Za.
    I hate having my smartness taken away.

    OMG! And airport tax?? I’d never even heard of such a thing until we got detained in Osaka airport in Japan because we were out of money and couldn’t afford airport tax. What the hell is “airport tax”? That makes NO sense! Isn’t that just covered in the cost of the damn ticket? Why is there a tax to leave the airport? OMG! We cried. They let us go because hysterical American women in the airport is not a good way to welcome people coming into your country, I suppose.

    What are you reading? Here I Go Again?

    And I am SO glad it’s not just me who is like, “One Direction? Does that describe their hair and looks? They flop their hair in the same direction? Their style only goes in one direction? At least you could tell the Back Street Boys or N*Sync apart.” Then my niece hits me and I kick her down the stairs and the cops come over. Again.

    re: “mummy’s little boy sweetness snuggle kitten may in fact be an evil snarling vicious beast (or indeed the infamous Hooge Poomah)” While I can relate to this terror (remember, I caught my precious sweetheart angel baby de-braining a mouse. With his teeth. It was scary) WE ALREADY KNOW YOURS IS THE MYTHICAL HOOGE POOMAH! Why can’t you just accept this? Stop with the denial already! You can’t move on until you admit there’s a hooge poomah in your house.

    Aaaaand, you’ll note, I make no mention of the alarming amount of pills you took to get through your day because THAT part seems totally normal.

    • No, you are correct in your pronunciation of Ibiza so your smartarsedness remains intact. Yep, airport tax. I love it, although ours is to get out of Norwich! Not back. When I flew back from Montreal several years back we had to pay airport tax to get out of the airport to fly home. Sadly I had the money, but I did explain to the nice man that I would have been happy to pretend to be skint just so I could stay……

      Do you know, one of the best things England ever done was palm One Direction off on America. ( you’re all so welcome! Just think of it as payback for Beiber…hang on, he’s Canadian isn’t he?)

      And as for pills? Seriously, my body seems to get used to medication really quickly so I need more to get the proper effect, sadly the same can’t be said for alcohol and I still get completely trollied after one bottle of wine, no matter how hard I practice…lol

      • Your body doesn’t respond to medication because you’re too healthy. Since you don’t process meats and fast food and that stuff, your body doesn’t know HOW to deal with synthetic toxins so it just shoots the medication right back out. If you ate like an American, these pills would be fine for you. Wine, on the other hand, is made from grapes and your body is totally used to processing fruits and vegetables so it knows just what to do with wine.
        That’s my medical opinion and while I’m not a doctor, I play one on WordPress.

        So I got Ibiza right? Ahhh, that makes me feel better. Fewer people to apologize to. Well, in my mind. Because I’m not about to apologize to any of these morons in person. It’s not my fault they’re dumb.

        And, yeah, Bieber doesn’t belong to us. I don’t want him; I’d deport him if I could. It’s like we’ve become the dumping ground for little boys with silly hair and stupid clothes. I’ll bet my grandmother said that about the Beatles, come to think of it.

      • I like “Eleanor Rigby”…because it’s depressing. And I was scared of the screaming blue Meanies as a kid. OOhh! me too! I like a good depressing tune especially with a few strings.

  2. And also – Wow! That was a super long comment I left. Probably longer than the original post. You should probably fire me. However, you can’t because I am one of those stalkers Miss PMT spoke of.

      • That could easily be a running series throughout the course of an entire year. And unless I die, it will be an ongoing series that can last many years. We’ll be the new Doctor Who…just going and going and going…

      • OMG! I LOVE that! And then everyone gets all confused as to who is chasing whom and one comes out the door and another the plant and the third a dooryway and they all end up in the hall, looking at each other, then they reassemble and start proper chasing again! I LOVE THAT!

  3. Your comments are as much fun as your posts! YAY! I totally pictured an old school Scooby Doo hallway chase there. I’m kind of jealous that you get happy pills. I’ve been asking my doctor for those for YEARS, but he won’t give them to me. I should probably get a second opinion. His degree is written with a crayon on the inside of an old McDonald’s bag. Normally, I’m not one to question a degree, but the word “medicine” is spelled wrong. It’s not medal sin, Dr. Poopypants. I just noticed that last week…

    • haha! I only have my emergency drugs now for when I really start to lose the plot and Chris loads them into a dart gun and chases me through the village. You should have a GP’s like mine. They give you anything just to get you out of the surgery and the next patient in through the turn style……

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