I’m pretty sure I mentioned that I went to the psychiatrist on Thursday. I saw one of my three therapists this afternoon and calls were made and messages were left and now I have been summoned to my psychiatrist’s office for an early appointment tomorrow. I JUST saw her. It’s like she knows about the unspoken thoughts in my head. Tricking me into going to the hospital is one thing, but how did she manage to get a surveillance chip into my brain to monitor my thoughts? I think I ought to pack a week’s worth of meds and a change of clothes, just in case.
P.S. Juve beat Roma yesterday with an unexpected Marchisio-style goal from, of all people, the rarely-scoring Leonardo Bonucci in the 85th minute. I know how to pick ’em, I certainly do.
This is him celebrating his goal in Azzurro against Norway last month (another rarity). I couldn’t be bothered to look for a current photo tonight, but this is what he does when he scores. It looks like mouth full o’ spooge to me, but it apparently has some sort of shut your mouth, stop talkin’ smack about the Bonucci not scoring no goals meaning. Same fuzzy hair. Same eyebrows. Same pursed lips and puffed cheeks. Different colored stripes. Oh I’m a lucky lucky girl with all my glorious Zebee defenders.
This post powered by befuddlement. Seriously. What does she want with me? She can’t really know what I’ve been thinking. How is that possible?