Today Totally Brought To You Courtesy of Xanax

I was pretty aggro most of the morning, which is my wont.  Then I has an epiphany:  Hey!  Maybe I should just up my own dosage. 

No, it wouldn't be the first time I've done it.  And it's not like it's an inordinate amount of Xanax that will send me careening off into the Never-Never Land of Sleep, Coma, or Shiny-Thing-Grasping.  Sometimes taking more helps, but sometimes it does not. 

It's not very often that I wake up and don't want to kill someone, so I just take my one little pill when I wake up and wait for coffee and, as a direct result, inherent betterment.  If that doesn't happen with coffee, then I am usually flipping out by 10:30 and wondering how to fix EVERY PROBLEM WHICH EXISTS IN THE WORLD or, more frequently, attempting to choke someone through my phone.  When in this maddened state, I tend to A) accuse random people of stealing my sandwich, B) accuse random people of stealing my pen, or C) accuse the Earth for continuing to turn.  Pretty amazing stuff, really, Xanax.  Their slogan should be "Xanax:  It Calms a Bitch Down."

So after taking over double what would be normal for me, I was, in fact, calmer.  Less crazified.  Less wanting to maim with a portable desk heater the next asshole that called or walked in my office.  And for that, I thank Xanax. 

Thank you, Xanax, for allowing me to keep my job. 
Thank you, Xanax, for making me aware that my sandwich is simply hidden underneath some stuff in my drawer. 
And thank you a billion, billion times over, dear Xanax, for saving me from a life of crafting shivs, bleaching the shit outta sheets for hours daily, and living in a cell whilst I go by the name "Honeypie."
Just thanks.