My antidepressant does not work in Houston or its suburbs. I would like to know why the commercial for it did not warn me of this unfortunate side-effect. “Can cause weight gain and completely lose its effectiveness if you are anywhere in the vicinity of the 4th biggest city in the United States.” That’s what they should say.
Don’t ask me why it would work in the rest of Texas, but not in Houston. All I know is that it was working fine when I left San Antonio last Friday, but as soon as we hit the Houston metropolitan area I was wondering why I hadn’t drowned myself in the toilet at the Cracker Barrel where we stopped for lunch.
I’m sure this had nothing to do with the fact that my husband questioned any and all navigation suggestions that I offered for three hours straight.
And it seems highly doubtful that the stress of my daughter’s synchronized swimming tournament would make me want to stick a bobby pin through my eye.
There was nothing remotely depressing about being accused of breaking our zillion dollar camera, “but not on purpose”, by my husband, either. Because that made me want to stick a bobby pin in his eye – and that doesn’t really count as depression, does it?
I’m absolutely convinced that there is some kind of GPS embedded in my pills that launches a self-destruct sequence as soon as I get within 30 miles of NASA.
Wait a second. What exactly are those guys at NASA doing right now since we no longer have a space program?
Messing with my pills, that’s what.

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There’s only one antidote – steer clear of Houston, my friend. I hear Sydney is a great place to visit (hint, hint)
I may have to visit Sydney so I can do some scientific research on the anti-depressant GPS system.
What a fine idea! I shall ready the spare room…
Hey SSFAM – there was somebody walking their bulldog down the street as I drove past yesterday. I had to stop myself looking twice to check if it was you. How’s that for blog-world weird?
…particularly because I have no idea what you look like!!!
Was the dog Pooping as He Walked?
omg. drowning yourself in the cracker barrel toilet. hysterical (sorry). this post cracks me up. and, i’ve only been to cracker barrel twice in my whole life and both times i wanted to die. not because of what you said, but because of my germaphobia. so, i’m pretty sure it’s all okay. hope the tournie was great. :o)
Cracker Barrel is just a bit too full of cutesy things for my taste. It’s not really a good place for a cynic to dine.
I hate when the NASA guys start mucking around where they don’t belong – in our private business. And thanks for mentioning CrackerBarrell. Now I have the inescapable urge for a biscuit. Or two. Or six….
Sorry about that. Didn’t the image of someone drowning in the toilet put you off?
Hope the meds kick in for you soon. Depression sucks.
Yeah, I probably need to switch. That sucks too.