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The Sauce of Their Suffering
Main Ingredients:
cousin
counselor
banquet
sauce
chia seeds
scallops
bowling alley
Spice Pack:
1/2 pinch of irritation
1/4 dash of competitiveness
1/8 teaspoon of anger
1/3 smidge of joy
My cousin tells this story whenever you ask her about her bout with depression. She last told me it when we were at the bowling alley after the banquet for “American Poets who Know how to squeeze the Sauce out of their Suffering.” So she was seeing this counselor. At first I thought she meant romantically, and I still think I’m right, but she denies it.
You be the judge!
Back when she was living above the meme kitten rescue, my cousin was diagnosed as having depression by her Facebook friends. I don’t know if I buy that -- but the diagnosis got an awful lot of likes, so reluctantly she went to see a shrink. The counselor -- as I should call him -- was a big know-it-all from Harvard Academy of Shrinkage -- again, sorry to use that word. Anyway, her friends had gone to counselors from Princeton Industries Group, and she wanted to show them up.
In any event, this shrink -- counselor-- starts asking her about her childhood, why she’s so depressed, yadda, yadda -- and it’s just going nowhere -- cuz you know, he’s not really even trying. Oh, and did I mention he’s got this beautiful gleaming bald head. She couldn’t stop staring at her reflection in it -- which made her look kind of bulbous -- or was it inverse bulbous?
In any event, while she’s starting at the Shrink’s head she gets an idea and says, “you know what I think would help me?” and he’s like “If it’s more therapy, than I will bill your insurance now,” and she’s like, “nope.”
“I think, I need to find a hobby, like you suggested last session.”
“I made such suggestion. I merely said that hobbies often -- “
“No, dude, wait-- come on, work with me.”
“I daresay, I am working with --”
But before he could say another word, she was up by his side, tilting his office chair back, so she could spread handfuls of chia seeds all over it.
“What ARE you doing?” he said now in a comical German accent, like Siggy Freuds, which makes me really think she was making this up.
“Getting a hobby,” she said, joyfully. “Cha-cha-cha-chia!”
I love it when she tells that story, especially when I know she doesn’t have any more chia seeds on her. They kind of irritate the scalp.
cousin
counselor
banquet
sauce
chia seeds
scallops
bowling alley
Spice Pack:
1/2 pinch of irritation
1/4 dash of competitiveness
1/8 teaspoon of anger
1/3 smidge of joy
My cousin tells this story whenever you ask her about her bout with depression. She last told me it when we were at the bowling alley after the banquet for “American Poets who Know how to squeeze the Sauce out of their Suffering.” So she was seeing this counselor. At first I thought she meant romantically, and I still think I’m right, but she denies it.
You be the judge!
Back when she was living above the meme kitten rescue, my cousin was diagnosed as having depression by her Facebook friends. I don’t know if I buy that -- but the diagnosis got an awful lot of likes, so reluctantly she went to see a shrink. The counselor -- as I should call him -- was a big know-it-all from Harvard Academy of Shrinkage -- again, sorry to use that word. Anyway, her friends had gone to counselors from Princeton Industries Group, and she wanted to show them up.
In any event, this shrink -- counselor-- starts asking her about her childhood, why she’s so depressed, yadda, yadda -- and it’s just going nowhere -- cuz you know, he’s not really even trying. Oh, and did I mention he’s got this beautiful gleaming bald head. She couldn’t stop staring at her reflection in it -- which made her look kind of bulbous -- or was it inverse bulbous?
In any event, while she’s starting at the Shrink’s head she gets an idea and says, “you know what I think would help me?” and he’s like “If it’s more therapy, than I will bill your insurance now,” and she’s like, “nope.”
“I think, I need to find a hobby, like you suggested last session.”
“I made such suggestion. I merely said that hobbies often -- “
“No, dude, wait-- come on, work with me.”
“I daresay, I am working with --”
But before he could say another word, she was up by his side, tilting his office chair back, so she could spread handfuls of chia seeds all over it.
“What ARE you doing?” he said now in a comical German accent, like Siggy Freuds, which makes me really think she was making this up.
“Getting a hobby,” she said, joyfully. “Cha-cha-cha-chia!”
I love it when she tells that story, especially when I know she doesn’t have any more chia seeds on her. They kind of irritate the scalp.
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