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….