Tuesday, July 10, 2007


Yesterday, while cleaning our apartment, my wife came across a slip of paper which she handed to me the moment I walked through the door after work.

"Why didn't you ever fill this?" she asked, with no small amount of shock.

I looked down to see exactly what it was that she was talking about, and there in my hand lay a prescription from my neurologist -- for sixty Vicodin.

It had been issued to me right after I got out of the hospital.

In April of last year.

Which means that it's no longer valid.

It's times like this that make me appreciate the exquisite healing power of crying myself to sleep.


Beckylooo said...

Oh shits. I so needed that guffaw. Thanks for that.

Anonymous said...

See, this is what you get for feeding us your blog - take a rest from it, and stop running home to write for nimrods and down a few vicodins..

I mean thats what I do after I write some of my own guile

VOTAR said...

I just watched Nancy Grace's breathless, teary-eyed round table discussion on those idiots in Houston who gave a toddler Exstacy, filmed it, and posted the footage on YouTube.

And I thought, man, what a travesty.

What a waste of a perfectly good hit of Exstacy.


Chez said...

Was the kid a little girl?

If so, I'd like to know where you were when this happened.

Karl and Mia said...

Dude, you should probably clean your home more often. Seriously, maybe it was one of those "signs" that you were supposed to do this healing on your own in your own way.

namron said...

I say this with the utmost admiration and as a sign of respect. . . . .it's called "growing up."

Al said...

I must be a total wanker...I had and filled a 'scrip for Vicodin when I deftly used the back of my skull to stop my vertical progress after hitting an Evian bottle doing the Ocean Drive slalom. I took one and tossed the rest out...concussion felt worse on the meds.

Vicodin said...

Oh my goodness...I hate when I go unfilled. It leaves me with that "empty" feeling. Kinda like home sickness but worse.