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(Continued from NEO CLASSISM (PT. 2))
Remember in the old days when you got so sick of talking about yourself in therapy that you, like me, would concoct some outrageous story about not being able to return for a few weeks due to the UNFORTUNATE world cruise you were FORCED to take? You, like me, might even smile wryly and continue this retarded charade by remarking that in addition to the claustrophobic state rooms and inedible food one is forced to endure on board, you would have to ‘press on’ with your trip despite lacking the gems of self discovery that only your shrink’s special brand of psychiatry are able to unearth. Maybe your shrink, like mine, would give you a concerned look and alarmingly suggest that you talk to the receptionist about rescheduling your missed appointments THE ABSOLUTE SECOND you return from your ‘vacation.’
“Thank fucking God,” you’d think as you breezily left her office, for the next few weeks, you, like me, could be as big an asshole as you wished and when confronted, drunkenly tell everyone you were in therapy and ‘working-really-hard-right-now.’ Perhaps you, like me, used that same line after waking up underneath some trick’s coffee table while he holds smelling salts under your nose and a cold compress to your head? Am I ringing any bells? No? Well, fuck you Nancy Drew.
Sadly, my K hole and Jagermeister bender glory days are long gone, but I’m still trying to find new, underhanded ways of ditching my shrink appointment. Now, of course, the bitch has SKYPE and makes me keep my appointment whether I’m in Los Angeles or Timbuktu. This week, while sunning my fat ass on the glittering beaches of Mykonos surrounded by gorgeous boys with easy smiles and dubious natures, I dropped my Mojito and nearly fell off my lounge chair for my shrink had the audacity to suggest that my son Ethan’s inability to understand and/or empathize with those less fortunate than himself might actually be MY FAULT!
“What,” I snarled. ”How can this be my fault?”
“Well, didn’t you tell me that after Ethan suggested that New York smelled like poor people, horrified, you cancelled your ‘field trip’ to Cartier and instead took him to H&M to see ‘real people?’
“Of course, not! What kind of a fucked-up parent do you think I am? I would NEVER inflict my child to that kind of abuse! H&M, please. I took him to Saks you bitch and you know it!!!” As I screamed at the bored looking shrink on my computer screen, Stavros rubbed my aching neck as Niko ran to get me another Mojito.
(To be continued)
Todd,
There is nothing worse than an abusive, self-loathing, sadistic shrink who is obvioiusly jealous of your exemplary parenting skills. You deserve better than that Sweetie D. Madame Zelna is a better guide for your parenting tips and journey to self-actualization. Stop paying these over-educated drug pushers with medical degrees! >wink<