Oh. My. God.

I know I said I would never be cranky again but that is before I remembered I was going off my drugs! @#$!*^%

There is not even a quarter-dose of Celexa floating around in my little brain, and lemme tell you something. I am crazed!

Crazed as in a lionness pacing her cage wanting to get the h*ll out and go somewhere, f*ck someone, eat something, buy sh*t, climb a mountain, run, move, POUNCE, anything but SIT IN A LITTLE CUBICLE AND EDIT THE MOST BORING STUFF ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH.

Ahem. I am restless. Yes, that would be the word. Restless. It doesn't help that there is nary a romantic prospect in sight on which to unleash my tremendous energy. Hellooo boys! Can't you see me here? Cute as a button and hot to trot? What is the MATTER with you all? What's all this BAGGAGE you're dragging around? Don't you know we've got one life to live and I'm in heat. NOW?

So I "unhid" my personal ad. Because what's a girl supposed to do when the men in her life are ex-boyfriends? MOVE ON, that's what. I can't look at the ads myself because all I see is this - "I'm a 36-year old guy looking for women ages 20-21!" - but I can let them find me and see what happens. It's always good for a laugh or two, a way to dull the sharp edge of boredom.

My demons are on the loose, people - boredom and loneliness and anxiety - all fighting for a piece of me. They won't win, of course, because I can always go back on the drugs. Meanwhile, I'm gonna battle them myself, but that noise in my head is awful loud. Excuse me while I crank the Green Day to DROWN IT OUT.