Therapeutic Gangster Rap

There's just something about Thursdays that automatically make me feel like shit. And what is it with random showers of heavy ass rain on a Thursday anyway? Basically, Thursday is an asshole. It was however, interesting to (tentatively) embark on my adventure of seeing a therapist. There I was sitting in the waiting room expecting a frail-looking woman with round spectacles to peep from behind the wooden door and ask me - with a very Keanu Reeves monotone - to come in. Imagine my surprise and awkward facial expression when this bubbly adorable woman emerged smiling and chirping hellos. Ok Thursday...

There was no couch, no weird instrumentals fucking with my subconscious, and no one sitting across the table nodding and taking notes while randomly inserting an automated "mhm". She's almost as animated as I am, didn't outright gawk like my girlfriends but she reacted like a regular human being would and best of all she's HILARIOUS. Like, I think she may have been Eddie Murphy (a la Beverly Hills Cop not Pluto Nash) in a previous life. I. Love. Her.

But of course this would not be a tale of my life if there wasn't something awkward amidst the interesting social interactions. I cursed. I cursed at my Christian therapist. Not my usual F (and MF...and C...and friends) bombs but I said shit and asshole a few times. I was actually quite proud of myself. What self control I possess! She was able to confirm my sanity (aaaaaahh!!!) and assure me that I wasn't in fact fuckin up. Did I mention she was awesome beyond all definitions of awesomeness?

Following the relief of my visit I was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to listen to gangster rap. Wu Tang Clan ain't nothing to fuck with. And neither is B.I.G. Thuggin Thursdays. It was perfection.

The saga continues!

Your Zen Master,


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