Can I buy you a fish sandwich?

You know what I despise about finding out for sure I'm mentally off? It was bad enough to spend first half of my life "gifted" and the second half "crazy," but now I'm terrified I might not ever get better. I'm horribly upset 'cause the generic meds aren't working at all ($5 copay vs $100 for brand), and the contrast between feeling almost normal a few weeks ago and this terrible now is awful, insulting, like poking the kid in the Special Helmet with a pointy stick. I see the doc Monday, but in the meantime, I can't make it through a full day at work, hate everything and almost everyone, and am constantly... well.... I know what I think and feel minute-to-minute, but I can't tell what's really me and what's the meds. I am sick of feeling like this when I have people who need me to be at least vaguely normal.

On a funnier, even weirder note, I'm getting hit on a lot lately- like, five propositions this week. It's mad flattering, considering I have 30 more lbs to lose to get back to my fighting weight, but kinda infuriating 'cause I feel so bad and apparently look pretty nice. Men are bizarre.

Miami Beach STINKS!

Seriously, that was the smelliest town I've EVER been to. I used the restroom in two different places, and they were just horrifying. Lotta hoochies down there, too, even big girls who should've known better. Dan and I parked by a CSI: Miami van, which was just awesome OGP, even though they're different on the show, and saw "The Hulk" to kill time. It was... loud. I had to leave before the end, because my neck med's side effects include panic attacks, and I was having a little bit of a problem, but I don't think I missed much. I like Edward Norton a lot, but I wish his ego didn't screw up half his movies. He's amazing when he's acting instead of soapboxing, and this felt like the latter.

The Eddie Izzard show was... alright. After a small controversy when it was discovered that the row our bloody expensive tickets were for doesn't actually exist (and BOY were those some rude theatre employees), we ended up with good seats about twenty feet from the stage. Eddie's a handsome devil (he has the bluest eyes I've ever seen- hm... well, top three, anyway), and wore his usual jealousy-inducing shoes. He could've used a bit more eyeliner, but the cerise coat lining matching his shirt was quite nice. His tour is only halfway through, so the show is still a bit wonky. The beginning was good- he did very funny bits about playing "air violin" and dinosaurs in church, but... it mind-smelled like he was in a bad mood. It just wasn't as smart as he usually is... re-using the damn giraffes was one thing, but barf jokes?... from Eddie? Really? Come ON! I'm wondering if "The Riches" has affected his normal accent as well as his inclination to do other ones (he didn't do James Mason when he was God, or Sean Connery with the 'hashashins'!), and he was a bit... dickish about Americans, and not in his usual I'm-taking-the-piss kind of way. Maybe the miamismell (would that be a miasma? A miasmi?) had gotten to him, too. Oh, well- it was lovely to finally get to see him live.

My neck is a bit better, but I'm furious that ibuprofen is working after an eighty-five dollar doctor visit for meds that didn't help. I'm feeling very... resigned right now. Disliking yourself sucks, because after all, there's not much choice- you can't say, "You know, I think I'd rather be Carmen Miranda today." Besides, I'm out of fruit.

Remember when Mr Mackey was on drugs...

... and his head swelled up like a balloon? My neck is MESSED UP. It's been getting worse for two days, and now you can see visible lumps in the left side and down into my shoulder, and Dan says it's all bruisey looking up behind my ear, and under my chin's swollen up like mumps, and I'm dizzy, and I keep barfing. Freaky shit- I cannot afford it, but I'm going to the doctor first thing in the morning. I can't figure out how it could be this bad from sleepin' funny last week, but it IS, and it's gotta stop. I got on webmd, like an idiot, and got all freaked out cuz the symptom thingy said I could have meningitis or maybe an aneurysm, and BUMP THAT, I am going to see Eddie in Miami on Saturday if I have to go in a coffin! This is not cool, man...

KILL ME.

If somebody would bash me on the head with a shovel, I'd be quite pleased. I slept on my neck funny a few nights back, and it's gotten progressively worse to the point of nauseating pain. Got off work six hours early, don't even care that I need the money cause I was so worried I'd get killed in traffic trying to look around without passing out. Drugs didnt work, icyhot hasn't worked, I need a neckectomy NOW.

But ooh, hey, I've lost 16.5 lbs now, so if I die of this at least I'll die smaller!