I'm good enough, smart enough...

And gosh darn it, people like me!

Too bad Phil Hartman had to go and off himself (not to mention his wife) because I could use some self-affirmation Jack Handy right now. I used to really cherish his "Deep Thoughts."

Any way, carefully plotting one's own suicide (ways and means) isn't exactly a healthy way to spend the weekend, but I've just about got it down now: something lethal (obviously) yet relatively painless (rules out shotguns or firearms of any sort, drinking lye-based household products, driving off cliffs, and virtually any or all excessively painful ways people have used to take themselves off the map). I always wondered about people who kill themselves drinking Draino. I mean really you have to be really desperate and really enjoy a very long, agnozingly painful death as your insides basically dissolve into goo and god knows what else.

Incidentally I once watched this Dr. G: Medical Examiner episode in which they discovered that some poor schmuck drank a fifth of whiskey, then shot himself with a shotgun, only to merely shoot off a part of his face and skull. He then stumbled around his hotel room blindly, took one look in the mirror and saw his disfigured face, and then proceeded to shoot himself twice more before he finally got it right. Ironically, he was killing himself because he felt like a loser that couldn't do anything right--must have been an even bigger bummer to find out he couldn't even kill himself properly.

By the way, I really dig Dr. G. I wish I was her, or at least had her job, because then I'd be working with dead people. Who a) you aren't risking your license by killing, because whoever heard of dying twice, other than people who have coded and come back to the light, or soap opera characters who can bend the laws of science and physics to their own liking and come back from the grave five years later as some damn fine looking living corpses b) dead people don't talk to you and make irrational demands.

Any way, then I realized that no matter how miserable I feel right now, it would be silly to kill myself. Especially over dumb complaint made by a stupid family member who I have already decided will end up spending her eternity in the afterworld doing a variety of unpleasant tasks like scrubbing out bedpans and emesis basis, specimen containers and cleaning hospital floors. By licking them clean. And that would be on a good day in Hell. I won't mention what other things I hope Lucifer has planned for her afterworld experience.

No, it's not exactly because The World Needs me, or anything, because Lord knows there would be about five people on the planet who would actually care if I died--six if you count the dog as a person, and then he'd probably only care because I am his Source of Dog Food and Expensive Doggie Treats--but then I thought about the people that would care, and how that would be totally unfair to them, because they are the ones I know really do love me. Also, I am neurotic, and kept thinking shit like who would have to pay off my stupid student loans, or take care of my dog?

Well any ways, I'm quitting (soon), and finding a place that will validate and support me as a nurse. So there.

Because, in the words of Tom Petty, you can stand me up at the gates of hell and I won't back down.

And in the words of Jack Handey: I'm good enough, smart enough and gosh darn it, people like me.

And in the words of some biblical writer: Dixit Dominus Domino meo; sede a dextris meo donec ponam inimicos tuos scabellum pedum tuorum. (The Lord said to My Lord: sit at My right hand until I make thine enemies thy footstool. )