A Freudian Slip is When you Say One Thing but Mean your Mother

When I graduate from College in May, I will automatically be bumped from my mother's heath insurance. Of course, this idea sends me into all kinds of twitching inducing anxiety fits. What if I don't find a job? What if it doesn't have health insurance? What if no health insurance company will take me!? I am the sickliest person ever? It's the truth; no insurance is not good thing. How will I keep myself stock in the drugs that save my sanity? The drugs that my uncle likes to call “mood elevators”. The term mood elevators makes it sound like I’m living my life in a perpetual state of bliss. So if you know where I can buy these “mood elevators”, I WILL pay top dollar. And besides my “mood elevators,” how can I pay for the ER trips for all the ERASERS I'm bound to shove up my ear? Yes I did get an eraser stuck in my ear at 17. That is a long story that makes me look like a bimbo.

But if my fears about health insurance aren't severe enough, I get an e-mail from my mother today asking, "Hope you're feeling better. I guess you'll just have to use "herbal" remedies, tea leaves, and yoga to get well after June heheheh!!" This of course sent me crying into my closet wrapped up in a fetal position and rocking slowly back and forth.

So laugh all you want mommy dearest. Because when I get out of that the closet, I'll have stories I can tell on you, that make Joan Crawford look like Mother Goose!