Me: I’m out of my anti-anxiety meds again.
Victor: You don’t need those. Just relax.
Me: I could relax more if I had some xanax.
Victor: You need to get off the drugs. You know what I do to battle anxiety? I have sex with prostitutes.
Me: No. Way. I battle anxiety by having sex with strangers for money!
Victor: Waaaaait a minute…
Me: Oh my God! You!
Victor: I did not even recognize you without the wig and the tube top.
Me: You totally still owe me money.
PS. Does this post make sense? Because I’m still a little high and it might be missing an entire sentence for all I know. I’m still on the drugs but I’ve sobered up enough to realize that the red warning label on the box of steroids they gave me to help fight off infection says “THIS MEDICINE MAY LOWER YOUR ABILITY TO FIGHT OFF INFECTIONS!” The hell? Also, Victor would like me to clarify that while he did not fire the riot gun this weekend, if there had been a tiny leperachaun outside he totally would have nailed it and he doesn’t appreciate my doubt.
Comment of the day: I can only hope you were a little high when you chose to sell your wares in a tube top. Perhaps the tube top is contributing to your anxiety. Perhaps you should knit a tube top out of xanax, like a candy necklace. Then you could relax when you were all tarted up.
I’m not high. ~Epiphinita