happy birthday to meeeeeee!!!

Well, another day, another year older. THIS year, I got, as an early present, a prescription for Zoloft. So, now with my zoloft/adderral cocktai, you can actually start calling me again and I will be LESS likely to yell at you. (though, no guarantees) SO bring on the birthday calls!!

When my shrink said, too matter of factly for my liking, that I was depressed, I started arguing with him, which he in turn said was a sign of depression (see blog about NOT ever dating a shrink) I was QUITE certain that my measure of whether I was depressed or not was quite scientific. You know that commercial where they voice over says "WHO does depression hurt?" and it shows various scenes of depressed people neglecting their kids or zoning out at work etc.....well they also show the sad forlorn dog sitting by the door pathetically holding a tennis ball in his mouth. just sitting there because his depressed owner is too depressed to play with him.

THAT used to be my depression check point, because I would say to myself "oh, well, I am NOT depressed because I do in fact, every single goddamn morning, play ball with my spoiled brat dogs" and then I look at said dogs, passed out on their designer dogs beds, exhausted from their morning ball playing and I say "you guys don't EVEN know how good you have it! You could ba like that sad dog with a depressed owner!"

But alas, that check point was wrong. when I drove away from the shrink's pad, I was so confused. I kept thinking "how did that happen to me? My dogs never sit by the door with a sad look holding their ball...I CAN'T BE DEPRESSED if I play ball with my dogs!!!" it just didn't compute.

then the light bulb went on. Here's the X factor i had not calculated....

MY dogs would NEVER just sit by the door with a ball in their mouth looking sad. It actually would never even occur to them. When they want to play ball, they stalk me around the house, each with a ball in their mouth. If I try to ignore them via depression, one drops the ball repeatedly on my lap, while the other shoves the ball in my face over and over. If I still try to ignore them in my depressive state one will drop the ball, stare at the ball and bark..., while the other climbs 80 lbs of fat yellow fur on my lap and hovers over my face mere centimeters away, breathing HARD with the ball in her mouth growling. My depression was masked you see, by obnoxious relentless labrador pursuit. Good think I had a shrink intervention!

anyhoo, back to MY BIRTHDAY. I'm off to vegas tonight to celebrate. Hopefully I'll catch a good .99 cent buffet. I like all things COACH and Pottery Barn. just in case anyone was wondering.