I'm starting to worry that my anti-depressant is making me fearless when I should really be fearful, I'm talking full of fear. And it's starting to affect those around me. Just last week I dragged Pip into my craziest idea yet-public speaking on a giant stage. Once a year there is a big asbestos conference with distinguished speakers and free breakfast. This year there will be a change in that never varied program- Pip and I are going to speak (but they're still having the free breakfast). Yikes.
When I say "big" conference I mean hundreds of lawyers from all over the country. I mean lots of big dogs in a giant ball room listening to us tell them something about asbestos when they already know everything!
Pip and I have until November, but we've already started working because we have to be great and we have to write a paper. I forgot about the paper and might have thought twice about doing this if I'd remembered, but it's too late to back down now- we're on the program!
I practically begged for this gig so no matter how terrified we are we have to go through with it. Pip may kill me. In fact, if I go missing for longer than a week someone please call the police because Pip has chopped me up into pieces and is keeping me in the freezer along with the chicken and the pork chops. You see, I might have pushed her just a bit. She kept saying "no", but I kept hearing "yes"! I date-raped Pip. Though in fairness to me she was sending mixed-signals by suggesting our topic and talking about the great hotel we'd get to stay at in Miami. That's like taking your top off in front of your date then screaming when he reaches for a nipple. Right?
What has gotten into me? Besides Husband and Cymbalta, nothing! And Husband has never had this courage-inducing affect on me. If I lose my job for making an ass out of myself I am suing the drug manufacturer. I could probably take them on myself cause I'm that good and I am Cymbalina, after all.... There I go again! I better scale back the dosage. Or maybe up it.