Facebook Posting While High

November 13, 2015 — 19 Comments

Dear Journal,

We’re all prejudice towards at least one group of people. It may be Mexicans, gays, clowns, cripples, and/or cat-lovers. And, Journal, don’t bat your eyelashes at me and say ‘But I love everybody,’ because it’s bullshit, and you know it. If you’ve made it this far in life without rolling your eyes, huffing an exasperated sigh, and making the general statement, “I can’t stand [foreign customer service representatives/fast food cashiers/Walmart shoppers/Kardashians],” then I’ll stop choosing to be gay. It’s only fair as we’ll both be claiming something that is not true.

Before the outrage commences, please note that there are two categories of prejudice: prejudice against people who can’t change who they are (geriatrics, gays, people of a different race/ethnicity), and people who can (Christians, men with hair buns, bronies). I, in this missive, am addressing the latter. I completely agree that ridiculing and oppressing people who can’t change who they are is as ignorant and futile as demanding cats to stop scratching the arms of my new chair. This is why I reserve all of my discriminatory remarks for the latter type because I believe that, under the assumption that we’re all driven to be liked and appreciated, doing so helps these degenerates strive to be better people. After all, social media has proven that vying for the approval and appreciation of another is the new meaning of life.

I don’t mind announcing my prejudices because they’re not my fault. Like you, I acquired this mentality through family interaction, enduring negative experiences, and surrounding myself with snobbish peers, and no amount of self-righteous Facebook posts are capable of deprogramming a bigoted brain (so please stop; we really don’t care if you got mad watching that video of the fast food employee who doused a seemingly homeless man with a cup of water after luring it to the drive through window with a burger even though this seemingly homeless man could very well have been the richest man in town and just fashionably and hygienically challenged – who’s prejudice now).

My personal prejudices are the result of either arrogance (mommy bloggers, poor people, country music lovers, political pundits, and midgets) or fear (religious zealots, dentists, and midgets). However, today I want to address the latter, specifically dentists. Some people are racist, some are sexist; I’m dentist…ist.

I don’t discriminate in my hatred for dentists. It’s not like they were born that way. They chose to be dentists, and dentists choose to terrify me. Well, they don’t terrify me as much as what they do to me that terrifies me. And I’m not alone. When I share this fear of mine in conversation, the beneficiary of my attention often interrupts me with, “Me, too!” And after reminding them that our discussion isn’t about them, I go on to explain that whenever someone inserts something into my mouth that I can’t swallow, I react with a level of stress that only kidnapped, cross-dressing Taiwanese prostitutes lost in northern Alabama can understand. As a matter of fact, I am probably one of the few Americans capable of striking “Piss Yourself While Having Stress-Induced Seizure From Dental Procedure” from their bucket list.

I’m unaware of the origin of this, but unlike most I mentioned above, treatment is available for dentistism. I’ve learned that a few options for remedying dentistism are positive reinforcement (fuck that), cognitive behavioral therapy (and that), peer support (you’ve got to be kidding me), and/or pharmacology (fu…oh wait; now we’re talking). I still hate them, but because JeBuddhAllahGodRatan threw the formula for a popular oral sedative across the Helleavens and onto Dr. David Sheehan in 1969, I can finally tolerate a visit to a dentist’s office without having to wearing a diaper.

Unfortunately, the latter treatment option comes with side effects. Although the sedative allows me to peacefully sleep during the procedure, it prevents the recollection of an entire day of impaired judgement I call a black-out high (where I appear to be normal but am high as fuck and will not remember any of it later). Previous black-out highs have resulted in the purchase of that horrible 2005 dramedy, The Family Stone; an irate letter to my neighbor written in the voice of an angry six-year-old cavegirl; and a mountain of Little Debbie snack cakes piled on my coffee table.

You may be wondering why I am rambling about prejudice and drugs. Or maybe you are thinking that what I experience is a common phobia. In response to the latter, I say, “Nope. I hate dentists. The fear is just a branch of my prejudice.” To the former, I say, “I am writing this so as to explain my behavior on Tuesday, October 27, 2015 as it was on this day that I was scheduled for a dentist appointment at 8:00 am to replace an old filling.”

Apparently, during my most recent swagger down memoryless lane, I had delusions of being a profoundly clever, and philosophical writer, comparable to Mark Twain or William Faulker. To prove this supposed genius, I posted absurd thoughts to Facebook, and I have absolutely no memory of doing so.

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To my horror, this didn’t stop with one post. I evidently posted whatever grandiose idea that waded into my hazy head, failing to heed my best friend’s advice to “Step. Away. From. The. Facebook.”

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Some of those that didn’t know my circumstance became concerned. I am grateful Mom was able to explain.

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Noticing the literary suicide happening on my feed, Mom saved what little reputation I had left of being a reputable writer of tasteless dick jokes and raunchy articles about gay sex by transporting me to one of my favorite places in the world, Muddy’s Bake Shop, where she let me eat my fill of cupcakes and cookies while taking candid pictures.

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This being one of them.

When I “came to” that night, the mystery of my day continued to reveal itself to me. I discovered that I promised to read a friend’s script, looked at a potential house to buy, got a haircut, and texted random shit to friends. For example:

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Don’t even ask. I have no fucking idea.

It may take some time for people to take me seriously as a writer again (if they ever did in the first place as it’s pretty hard to hang with aspiring lit fic writers and poets if you’ve told the world about that one time you farted during sex). Until then, I will hide in shame in the company of my five cats, hoping the world isn’t judging me as harshly as I am judging them.

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19 responses to Facebook Posting While High

  1. 

    Omg… the worst is the Ambien walrus. I told my husband to stop letting me get online if he knows I’ve had Ambien. I say and write all sorts of things I shouldn’t and I do all sorts of things I can’t remember. (I blogged about it too, actually) and while others may enjoy my foray into lack of common sense or any type of brain to mouth filter, I find it embarrassing to get online and find out I’ve broadcasted my sexcapades from the night before on my facebook. lol

    Liked by 1 person

    • 

      Oh wow. I’ve heard such terrible (hilarious) stories about the Ambien. I would be so terrified to take it.

      Like

      • 

        You know, it worked great at first. You fall asleep literally before you know it apparently. lol But if you take it a while or you take it and don’t lay right down, you start basically trying to function in a state basically like sleepwalking…or sleep eating, or sleep-screwing…. It’s a mess.. And much like other drugs, things that seem brilliant on Ambien, don’t seem so smart when you’ve come back down…if you remember them at all. lol

        Like

  2. 

    I remember your dentist stories from days past … in fact the Best Buy excursion is one of my favorites. I LOVED that your mom took pictures for posterity. Maybe you need a cute dentist?

    Liked by 1 person

  3. 

    **also why I do not facebook……..

    Liked by 1 person

  4. 

    I love you!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. 

    People do by far more unexplainable things than only writing weird texts when being ‘under influence’ (And I know what I’m talking about!)
    But I find your fear of dentists serious in one way, since I know several friends of mine who have it as well – and still you made such an amusing blog post out of it. I admire you!!
    (Hmh… just out of curiosity… why is a country music lover arrogant? 😉 )

    Liked by 1 person

  6. 

    Two things about this post made me the happiest person ever:
    1) You made a list that was only “Christians, men with hair buns, bronies.” I immediately got super irritated at a Christian bronie with a man bun. I WANT TO FIND ONE!
    2) I read this while high. Not joking.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. 

    Ha. You do look pretty buzzed. 🙂 Thank God for your mother.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. 

    1. At least you didn’t say CENTRAL Alabama. We are totes reasonable here.
    2. Absurd.
    3. My father…the maniliest man’s man that ever manned threw such a hissy fit at the dentist’s office back in 1985 that it is STILL talked about today. I can’t go in for a cleaning without the hygienist grinningly saying, “Now you be sure to tell Donald that we all said, “Hey.””

    Liked by 1 person

  9. 

    That was brilliant. You look high as fuck in that photo with the cupcake. I tend to write super amazing poetry when HAF but when read later on I’m left scratching my head. S’all good though – when’s your next dentist appointment? 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    • 

      Ha. A cleaning is, maybe, 5 months away. But they are gentle with me during those so I don’t need the drugs for that. The hygienist once tried using some sort of electric plaque remover device once, but I told him not to use it so it was all good.

      Liked by 1 person

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