The Quest For Mental Health, Pt.2

I went. Yesterday.

After work I had my first session with a licensed clinical social worker in an effort to quiet the voices that keep telling me to shove the weekly status reports down the staff assistant's throat until she stops breathing if she steps into my personal space zone one more freakin' time.

And lets not forget the other voices that INSIST I lay on the couch watching Gilmore Girls reruns instead of, oh, I don't know, FINISHING MY THESIS.

So I went and she asked me all these retarded questions and I gave her all these pathetic, whiny-baby answers and she agreed that I needed to keep coming, and more often than the Empire BC/BS allotted 12 visits/year. I swear I saw dollar signs over her eyes...

But it wasn't 100% terrible, so I'll give it another 4 sessions before I decide if that stupid pity face she gives me is really annoying or only annoying to Lady Estrogen, who happens to be in town for the next couple of weeks...I'm gonna start charging that bitch rent...

*smooches...trying to get over the fact that a STRANGER was all up in my business yesterday, AND THEN I had to pay her...*
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my co-pay is officially WACK!