Who do I have to blow to get an appointment with a fucking psychiatrist?

Let me explain.

I am, I guess, an insomniac (I hesitate to use the term “insomniac” because it is a medical term and I am not a doctor, though I do know a lot about recreational drugs). Though I don’t always have trouble falling asleep, my sleep is restless and intermittent, occasionally broken by a dream that is too vivid or by an impending sense of urgency or by my roommate Ben coming home drunk at 2am on a Wednesday night and yelling, “Jay! Get up! You fucking pussy!”

I have been a like this for quite some time, but over the past few months it’s gotten worse. I have also been having extremely vivid dreams. I know, I know – everybody wakes up and says, “Man, that dream felt like it was real”, but the only way I can explain my dreams is to say that they are even more vivid than those dreams and much more frequent. And these dreams are either extremely horrifying or extremely sexual. I gotta say, the sexual ones I don’t mind – it’s the really, really scary ones I could live without. But it is a major let down to wake up after having a crazy sex dream to find myself alone, in the shower, with only my socks on. Talk about a whole other level of disappointment.

I went to my doctor and told her about this. She, like God, hates me, so instead of prescribing me sleeping pills, she suggested I go “talk to someone” about this. I have recently been given additional responsibilities at work (a sort of default “well, the only one available that can do it is Jason”-type promotion), and because of this my doctor thinks my “high stress” job could be the reason for my trouble sleeping. My question is: what is so high stress about my job? The four hours a day I spend on fantasy sports? The six hours a day I listen to music? Or the two hours a day I spend on the phone with my friends? You choose.

But I’m open to it. I always knew I’d have to see a psychiatrist some day, so I guess it’s good to do so before I become a sex offender, rather than after (sorry, that should read “convicted sex offender”). The problem is that it’s very hard to get an appointment. They’re either all booked up or they only do “medication management” or they’re no longer accepting my insurance – what the fuck?

So I will say this: when I go ape-shit and start picking dudes off from the top of my apartment building because I can’t sleep, that blood with be on your hands Messrs. M.D.

Bastards.

[oh, and have a good weekend]

Has anyone been following the story of the British cave explorers who got stuck in the underwater cave in Mexico? Basically, these Brits were exploring these underwater caves, which have miles and miles of caverns, when the water levels rose and they were trapped. Mexican authorities quickly learned that they were trapped, but the Brits turned down the help of the local authorities, instead preferring to wait for the Royal British Navy to come and rescue them.

Now, if my ass is trapped in an underwater cave, I don’t care if the fucking Wolfman comes to my rescue – just get my ass out. Don’t get me wrong – I hate Mexicans as much as the next guy, but come on.

But the story has a happy ending: the British Navy guys came and rescued them, so now they’re safe (although I think the Mexicans are going to question them about what the hell they were doing there). I’m wondering what the conversation was like and how awkward it was after the rescue between the British guys who were rescued and the Mexican guys whose help they shunned:

British Cave Guy: [with heavy British accent] “Listen mate, it’s nothing personal or anything…”
Mexican Rescuer Worker: [with heavy Mexican accent] “No, no senor, it’s fine.”
BCG: “It’s just that, you know -”
MRW: “No, you don’t have to explain. It’s fine, really.”
BCG: “Well, I just don’t want you to think that I don’t think you know how to do your job.”
MRW: “I don’t know why I would think that – oh, maybe because you’d rather wait in a cave for an extra three days and face death at any moment rather than let me rescue you? Is that why maybe?”
BCG: “Oh come on – it’s just that I know that our Navy is very familiar with things like this!”
MRW: “I live here! I am familiar too!”
BCG: “Look, I’m sorry, ok? Please – let’s not fight. The important thing is that everyone is safe.”
MRW: “You’re right. I am sorry too senor. Let us put this behind us.”
BCG: “Jolly good chap. Have a good day, and thank you again.”
MRW: “Yes, you too. [under his breath] Bitch.”
BCG: “What was that?”
MRW: “Nothing senor. Good day.”