No surprise.

Asshole Removal Agency

Last night, when I got home from work, I told two of my oldest "friends" to go to hell. None of you know these dipshits--they're people I've known since I was in college--but...well, let's just say that for the past three years I've only ever heard from them when they want something from me. Married people (at least those of my approximate age-group) seem to always act that way with me: Rich IMed me on Sunday to say hello, and while I was talking to him his wife (who used to have a severe crush on me years and years ago) IMed me as well, apparently from another room of the house. So I have both of these dummies talking to me about how much the other is driving them crazy and how much they want out of the marriage and blah blah blah...the same old crap I've been hearing from them forever. Then, of course, come the requests for money and so on.

The thing that really bothers me about this is that I've known these two for ages. Rich used to be one of my best friends at Cal U. I worked with Cindy at the Writing Center for years. They were both perfectly okay people--in fact, I regarded them as some of the best folks I ever knew...and at one point in time, they were. So even though I thought they were insane for getting married (definitely not compatible in any way) and, of course, I became each person's confidante in bitching as soon as things started going sour a few weeks after the damn wedding, I stuck through it all because these people were among the first folks I ever could call true friends. They stood by me during some awful times my last year in grad school and, of course, I stood by them, individually and collectively. I lost a lot of money over the years to them, but I never expected it back, because I gave it freely...all the while knowing that it was becoming more and more apparent that I was being taken advantage of. But I kept on, because these people were my friends.

Well. Over the last three or four years, I've heard from them only seldomly--at random times, and for random reasons. They've moved around Uniontown about five hundred times, so I've never been able to keep contact info for them...so I usually just hear from them via IM. Like I said, Sunday, they both IMed me and, of course, all they really cared about was asking about whether I could loan each of them a "couple of dollars." I told them both I was going through some hellish times right now and didn't have a penny to spare. At which point--I kid you not--they both made up excuses and signed off.

Lovely. All these years I've been waiting for any kind of return on my investment of friendship here, and this is what I get?

Last night, when I got home from work, I found a mess of IMs waiting for me. Rich and Cindy both left me messages bitching about how I'm impossible to get ahold of and blah blah blah, and both ended, again, with requests for a "few bucks" to be repaid next month. Yeah, like I'm going to lend money to a pair of dumbshits who haven't even talked to me in months and whose current whereabouts I don't even know.

Needless to say, I reamed them both good. I've finally hit the wall: I am SO SICK of people I care about or have cared about taking advantage of me, or expecting me to be perfectly amenable to any kind of crazy demands from me because I am their friend and, naturally, that's what friends do--unless I were to make such a request, at which point it would be deemed completely unreasonable. I am sick to death with people who expect me to be a friend, but, no matter how long I wait for them to come around and act the same way, never address me with any kind of friendship when I damnwell need it. Fuck this shit. I'm taking a weedwhacker to my catalogue of friends, and I suspect that a lot of weeds are going to be trimmed out of my life soon, because I've finally had it.

There. Rant over. Time to go to work and then my damned doctor's appointment.

I'm surprised *I* ain't datin' her....

Jennifer Wilbanks. Quite frankly, the only Jennifer I will ever trust is dorothymonkey, and this current "Runaway Bride" thing completely confirms that I am 100% justified in that attitude.

For those of you who don't know--as I didn't until just last night (because I barely pay attention to the news, and I don't give a rat's ass if someone vanishes unless I know them)--this Jennifer Wilbanks chick was about to get married to some fella when she vanished. Literally, vanished. A massive, 3-day-long, nationwide manhunt ensued, and when the dumb bitch finally called to let everyone know she was still alive and in Albuquerque, she told her parents that she'd been kidnapped. Only to later retract said statement and admit that she'd just gotten cold feet before the wedding and amscrayed to get away from the pressure for a while.

Now. Nothing wrong with cold feet. That kind of stuff happens, and you can't fault the girl for suffering from last-minute anxiety....But you sure as hell CAN fault her with going about it in the worst possible way. I can only imagine the anguish and worry her family and her husband-to-be must have suffered in those three days because the stupid twit didn't have the courtesy or the courage to just say, "Hey...I'm getting a little freaked out here and need a few days to chill." For all they knew, she was bound and gagged in some psycho's trunk, being driven out into the middle of nowhere, there to be raped, slashed to ribbons, and possibly eaten before having what's left of her dumped into a shallow grave. That's what usually happens when young women just disappear, after all. To compound the insult to simple decency, she had the nerve the whip up a kidnapping story to justify herself in the end.

Right now, it seems as though she will eventually be charged with a variety of misdemeanors, but, quite frankly, she doesn't deserve a few fines--she deserves to have her teeth smashed through the back of her idiot skull. Leaving someone at the altar, for instance, is not a crime...but faking a kidnapping and inciting a nationwide manhunt IS--to some degree. A crime that, of course, should be punished by the administration of *some* kind of fines and/or trial...but, ultimately, the best punishment for such childish action (from a 32-year-old who should, dear gods, KNOW BETTER) should best be administered by those who were specifically injured by her actions: her parents, her friends, her fiance, etc. And yet...her fiance is gladly taking her back. His parents admit she's still welcome.

What. The. Fuck.

I know I can be a pushover when it comes to someone I love--I'll gladly let them walk all over me and just smile and take the bullshit. But not in a case like this. I had to deal with a similar situation with my ex Jennifer quite a while ago, and I must say it was one of the most unnerving, harrowing, and flat-out devastating experiences I have ever gone through. When she finally turned up again (after only an hour and a half), I very nearly died with relief...until, of course, I found out the reasoning behind her vanishing--an occurrence almost as childish as Jennifer Wilbranks. I cannot believe I didn't leave my Jennifer on the spot. I guarantee you that if someone were to do the same to me again, I would wash my hands of her immediately.

Seriously...how can you forgive something as idiotic as vanishing on your wedding day and leading people to believe you were kidnapped, when instead you were just scared and wanted out? No amount of love could make up for something that irresponsible and stupid. Were I getting married to someone and my bride-to-be admitted she had cold feet and needed "time out," I'd certainly be pissed--but only because of the aggravation of having set up the wedding, gotten all the people together, etc., all for nothing. But if she admitted such, and I at least knew what was going on, then there's no way I could fault her for doing so. But pulling a Jennifer Wilbanks? That is so unimaginably juvenile, when she turned up, I would tell her to go to hell and never darken my doorstep again.

Fibromyalgia

That's the tentative diagnosis after my visit to the doctor's today. Luckily, the blood tests have ruled out anything particularly serious like lupus and various neuro-degenerative disorders*, but because fibromyalgia is so extremely rare in men, my doctor doesn't want to begin a specific fibromyalgia treatment regimen for it until his diagnosis is confirmed by a specialist--a psychiatrist or a neurologist. Why a shrink or a nerve-doctor for such a confirming diagnosis, you ask? Because fibromyalgia is apparently a neurological condition, and is generally treated using a specific SSRI called...something--I can't remember the name offhand, but I've never heard of it before today. It helps regulate the serotonin reuptake in the body's entire nervous systems, not just the CNS or brain.

The thing is...I'm currently taking an SSRI: Celexa. Whether or not this stuff conflicts with it is not known to a GP like my doctor: the little pocket reference he uses for drug interactions does not specify any major interactions, but since both Celexa and this new stuff are SSRIs, he figured it's best if I get looked at by a specialist in using those drugs to treat nervous conditions to be sure there are no interaction problems that, say, only a psychtech or neurologist would specifically know about.

On the one hand...thank the gods I don't have anything serious. My aunt has fibromyalgia--has had it for nearly eleven years--and she's being treated with SSRIs now, and is apparently showing a great deal of benefit from them. She still has to take fistfuls of pain medication daily as well, but at least her intake of...I believe she's on oxycontin, has greatly been reduced. So. I may not find myself addicted to painkillers after all!

But. I was warned NOT to think that this condition is not serious. One, it's NOT easily treated: the SSRI treatments have primarily only been tested in women (ten women get fibromyalgia for every one man who does, so male trials haven't been very common), and may or not may not work as well in a different biochemical environment. Plus, the nature of the problem is that in some people it comes and goes, but in others once it takes root the best you can ever do is supply painkillers, anti-inflammatories, and SSRIs to control the over-reacting nerves that are thought to be causing it in the first place. Hell, no one even knows what the hell fibromyalgia actually IS...and no one really knows why certain treatments work wonders for it in some people, but do nothing in others. The best we can do is try the standard treatments and see if they work. Otherwise, there are different treatments like vitamin therapies and stuff that might work as well (and can actually be used in conjunction with others).

In the meantime, though...despite how much it fucking hurts sometimes, it ain't fatal.

And I've got another three weeks' worth of Vicodin to go through.

So I'm set in the meantime. I'd better be...because I can't get an appointment with either my psychtech or the one--and only one--neurologist in Uniontown until the middle of June. I called both offices today and was told that is the earliest either could possibly see me. Thank god this shit isn't, like, Nerve Attenuation Syndrome (aka the Black Shakes), because by the time I'll actually be able to see them I'd be a quivering useless lump. I need to contact my GP's office tomorrow and see if maybe they can refer me or something to a particular doctor in Pittsburgh or Morgantown, say, who might be able to see me sooner. The sooner this diagnosis is confirmed, the sooner I can begin more than just palliative therapies.