What the FUCK?

I have never heard of this guy, nor have I seen his album cover before my friend Jonny Pape alerted me to it. This is such a bizarre coincidence. His album came out in 1991. Mine is from 2005. Did he go forward in time and rip me off? Or was my photographer a secret JM Jarre fan? I mean, LOOK!

IT’S FUCKED UP!

And then there’s this chick:

She comes up when you image search MY name.

The red coat.

Did someone think she was me because of the red coat? Well, her name is Rose Melberg, and apparently she makes good music. I have no idea when this photo was taken, but, I mean…JEEZ!

What should I do? Contact these people and get a new band together? Consider them my nemeses and start an internet war? Just delight in the coincidence and chuckle to myself over Bailey’s and a fucking cinnamon bun?

HMMMM?

I’ve been on a cocktail of medications for the last ten or so years. You’d think I’d have this pharmacy thing down pat.

Wait- let me start again.

Pharmacies have been around since, oh, I don’t know, at least the 1800s. You’d think they’d have this “being a pharmacy” thing down pat.  And you would be sorely mistaken. Yes, I am on a number of medications, mainly to keep me from going postal. Now, when the fucking pharmacy screws up my prescriptions that keep me from going postal, I go fucking postal! It’s inane. Just the other week I had a panic attack walking into the CVS to pick up my panic meds. I don’t know, maybe at this point it’s a Pavlovian response because I can’t remember the last time anything has went smoothly at that goddamn store.

One time in the not-so-distant past, I was reduced to a crying ball of pathetic on the dingy rug of the damn place, calling my doctor’s emergency line, trying to explain to him, between pants, why the asshole pharmacist wouldn’t refill the perfectly legitimate script I had. The fucker was beyond condescending, “explaining” to me why it is that I needed a refill, and if I had taken my allotted amount, I wouldn’t be in this situation. LIKE I DON’T KNOW THAT, DICKSMEAR!!! That’s why my doctor called in the refill in the first place. GOD! Like I need to be scolded by a fucking white-coat wanna-be who’s supposed to be part of their “supportive and friendly” staff.

Now I try and get my orders in days in advance. This just gives them more time to screw it up. More than a few times, I have found myself with two options: fucking wait for them to get their shit together and get my meds eventually (Christ knows when) or calling my doctor’s emergency line (because they always wait til after his office hours to fuck up royally) and bothering him for the umpfuckingteenth time, surely making him wonder if there’s a med he can give me to stop my evening “my pharmacy fucked up, AGAIN” calls.

Jesus Mother Christ, don’t fuck with patients on mental health meds! I’m gonna start writing the screenplay for “Dog Day Afternoon 2: The Pharmacy.”

Only…it won’t be a screenplay.