Entertain by picking brains, Sell my soul by dropping names

For those of you who like reading fleshy and, uh, salty prose of a humorous and Id-rich variety, word is that Hookers On Stilts (AKA our blogging Twin Cities cohort and Attorney, Britt Lindsay Esq.) is back on the menu. Please click on the link to your right where her name appears, and ZAP! Internet magic will take over and entertainments galore will sustain you. We are lazy, lazy bloggers and won't put a link here in this post, but you can read and don't have a sub-standard education, right? We promised we'd help drum up some attention for HOS. Please don't let us down.

So, did you know that in, like, less than 12 hours, OGFP will be setting up camp in the U.S. Cellular Field nosebleed upper deck section and AC/DC will be pumping through the PA and we will be thrusting our arms in the air like an overcaffinated baboon in mating season as our world champion baseball team takes the field? True. There will be pictures, eventually. We're getting to it!

You know what stings? Spending $190 on a single bottle of medication. Adult Attention Defecit Disorder is expensive. This medicine makes us feel queer. And we don't mean in a way that makes us want to get our prostate jingled by quivering man parts. OGFP suffers from loud brain syndrome. Always yammering away in there, the gray inner-skull stuff makes our sleep patterns suffer, creates situations in which we are less than the ideal co-worker, leads us to the sauce, saps the creativity, etc. Our brain is trouble (but not quite troubled).

The costly brown pills do indeed help, but we feel re-wired and odd, and we suppose this is the point, but still. If your brain has been one way since you can ever remember and then things feel radically different, it makes you take pause. But if you can't really put your finger on why things are different, exactly, it vaguely feels kind of creepy. Medicine is fucked up. Weirdest blog post ever!




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