Shock Treatment

I’ve been having one of my manic spells this week…not sleeping much, thoughts whirring through my head, cleaning more than I have in the last nine months. I suppose I should give myself credit for recognizing all the signs and being proactive to cycle it down, but it’s almost like a trainwreck in that it’s hard to stop once it starts. I counted money at church on Monday after work and couldn’t get to sleep after that, which carried over to my phone crashing due to an AT&T software upgrade on Tuesday, which then in turn carried over to my truck nearly dying on Wednesday…at which point I had already taken several deep breaths and also thankfully have an intuitive father who had been looking at “new” trucks online for me (how’s that for a run-on sentence?). So once I got my phone fixed got a new phone at AT&T because the Mega I bought off eBay was faulty to begin with, I called my friend who was kind enough to take me to look at this truck my father had found online. Being in such a predicament and short on sleep, I was pretty much sold when I saw it and test drove it. Thus I put the whole truck on my AmEx and thought I was done with the whole deal. Hah, but I still needed to deal with my “dead” truck–not actually dead, but it needs an awful lot of work–so I spent about an hour sitting in another friend’s garage on Wed. before I had to come into work while he worked on *his* car, which was also having issues. He finally conceded that he was probably too busy to look at my truck, so I got a couple of hours of sleep before work and then cleaned out my old truck in the fast food parking lot where it had stalled out. There’s not many things more humbling than doing that at 7:30AM, esp. when dozens of people see you and don’t offer any help…clearly I was cleaning out an abandoned vehicle in my mind only. I did get home that morning and finally got some sleep, just out of desperation. I prayed about whether or not I should keep the truck or sell it…I kept thinking if I had a farm it would make a good “farm truck.” Taylor–that was my truck’s name (Taylor 2.0 is the new Tacoma)–was my baby these last 9 years. I babied it, I petted the dashboard all the time, I talked to it…I did everything but wash him regularly. Good Southern guys don’t ever wash their trucks regularly, do they? (TBH, I hadn’t washed him in 17 months…perhaps that was taking the theory a bit far.)

Fast forward to Fri. morning when I “sold” Taylor to my co-worker and then couldn’t find the title to save my life. Long story short, I was honestly just glad he (my old truck) wasn’t still sitting in the fast food parking lot abandoned, and that I knew he was going to someone who would give him a little TLC. Also fast forward to Sat. afternoon when I finally found my title in a copy paper box under a plethora of greeting cards, casino memorabilia, and these:

I believe I bought these for 25-cents each at a thrift store/drift store which was relocating right after I moved to Vegas, but I’m honestly not even sure. Have I watched any of them? Of course not…and I also have a Jane Fonda one and a Debbie Reynolds one (I actually have watched the Debbie one and it’s amazing). Speaking of which, I’m seeing Debbie tonight (Sun.) here in Las Vegas. It’s her last show before she “retires,” which I don’t believe for a millisecond, but my friend insisted we go after obsessively attending her casino auction for a month and me re-reading her autobiography, so I’m looking forward to it. (Her daughter Carrie Fisher, her son Todd, and her granddaughter Billie are performing with her…it should be sweet. Debbie is 82 going on 83.) Here’s a pic of them from their first show of the 3-night run on Fri. night, at the South Point Casino here in town. And yes, I’m wearing my vintage Debbie Reynolds Casino shirt I won off eBay…

deb carrie billie todd

I wanted to end with how much I’ve noticed this week that I’ve purely said/written/texted/e-mailed things with the intention of getting a reaction outta people. Like, several/too many times to count. It definitely goes with the mania, but I’ve also realized I enjoy doing that in general…shock treatment, if you will. I never mean to be hurtful, but it’s fun not taking things too seriously. And sometimes just saying whatever’s on one’s mind–when bottling it in would drive one to the brink of insanity–is good therapy in a way. Small world: Carrie Fisher has been doing shock treatments for years and raves about them. On that note, I’ll close with a wonderfully campy, quite shockingly ridiculous, 60s Scopitone performance from her mum Debbie Reynolds…here’s the *YouTube link* since WordPress won’t let me embed on here. Hope everyone’s enjoying their fall and getting more rest than I am. I intend to take some extra melatonin on my nights off and catch up on my sleep.

brt

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