(no subject)
Tonight we "carved" pumpkins here at the nuthouse. It was dumb because we can't use real knives because they don't trust us not to go around stabbing each other and ourselves. I dunno if you know this, but it's hard to cut a fucking pumpkin with a "saw" the size of a toothpick. Seriously, that thing was so effin tiny. It's like when a kitten bites you, but it doesn't hurt because they have tiny baby teeth...or...well it's like carving a pumpkin with a kitten...basically. It took the better part of two hours to carve out HAPPY HALLOWEEN. Everyone else seemed to go for the standard two triangles and a mouth. They were finished and off watching It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown while I was still on the second P in happy. In hindsight, I should have gone with something easier, but I'm not a quitter, you guys, so I stuck around and saw it through to the end. It looked okay, I don't have a camera or anything or else I would have taken a picture because stories are better with visual aids.
When I was done, they just piled it on the table with all the rest. No candles or nothing. This place lacks follow-through. I needed those two hours for sleep.
Oh yeah, so the other day I wanted to cut out a picture I saw in Glamour, so I asked for scissors. They gave me child safety scissors, you guys. Man, how embarrassing to be nearing 30 and not be able to use just regular scissors. Even retarded people get to use regular scissors. First off, safety scissors don't cut for shit. Secondly, they're designed for little baby midget hands so they're hard to hold. THIRDLY, if I ever try to kill myself again, it won't be with a damn pair of scissors. Who has the time for that shit?
It's just, I know rules are rules, but I feel like I should get some kind of special treatment sometimes, I guess. I mean, I do live here, yeah, but I also work here. I never miss therapy and I don't start trouble. My boss lets me drive her car, but I have to use safety scissors. At work, I use a boxcutter to open boxes and my letter opener is razor sharp, but they give me safety scissors. None of that business makes any sense. I don't think it's necessary to treat people like children just because they have a few problems. If ever in my life, I heard of someone dying from scissors, I would accept it, but I haven't...so I shan't.
SAFETY SCISSORS:
DON'T PLAY THAT GAME.
end transmission.
When I was done, they just piled it on the table with all the rest. No candles or nothing. This place lacks follow-through. I needed those two hours for sleep.
Oh yeah, so the other day I wanted to cut out a picture I saw in Glamour, so I asked for scissors. They gave me child safety scissors, you guys. Man, how embarrassing to be nearing 30 and not be able to use just regular scissors. Even retarded people get to use regular scissors. First off, safety scissors don't cut for shit. Secondly, they're designed for little baby midget hands so they're hard to hold. THIRDLY, if I ever try to kill myself again, it won't be with a damn pair of scissors. Who has the time for that shit?
It's just, I know rules are rules, but I feel like I should get some kind of special treatment sometimes, I guess. I mean, I do live here, yeah, but I also work here. I never miss therapy and I don't start trouble. My boss lets me drive her car, but I have to use safety scissors. At work, I use a boxcutter to open boxes and my letter opener is razor sharp, but they give me safety scissors. None of that business makes any sense. I don't think it's necessary to treat people like children just because they have a few problems. If ever in my life, I heard of someone dying from scissors, I would accept it, but I haven't...so I shan't.
SAFETY SCISSORS:
DON'T PLAY THAT GAME.
end transmission.