Running Commentary: Rehab by Amy Winehouse

I don't know about you, but whenever I watch a movie, tv show, listen to a song, or do anything that involves taking in popular culture, I hear a voice in my head with a running commentary.  This affords me no end of amusement and food for thought.

Case in point: the song Rehab by Amy Winehouse.  

If you don't already know this, Ms Winehouse lost her war against her demons, fell to temptation once again and died of alcohol poisoning on 23rd July 2011.  She was diagnosed with manic depression, had a drug habit that she amazingly managed to kick after several years, only to once again develop an addiction albeit to a different - and legal - substance [alcohol].  Although she tried to help herself, she didn't want outside help, refusing psychological treatment.  And not long after that, she drank a hell of a lot of alcohol and died.  Draw your own conclusions.

Now on to my nefarious yet humorous observations.

1.  Is there a more fitting vice for someone with a surname like Winehouse? I swear it's like Malvolio or Toby Belch in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night!

2.  She wrote a song in 2006 about refusing to go to rehab, because at the time she thought she didn't have a problem.  Looks like Alanis Morissette's Ironic needs another unironic line: It's like refusing to go to rehab, then dying of alcohol addiction. 

3.  I now present you with the lyrics to the song, undermined by my comments. [Spoiler alert: I have a very catty running commentary voice.]

They tried to make me go to rehab, I said, "No, no, no" - I think you'd agree now that that was a bad idea.

Yes, I've been black but when I come back you'll know, know, know - We would, especially since now it would require a feat attributed only to Jesus and other unnatural beings.

I ain't got the time and if my daddy thinks I'm fine - you're 24 and you still think Daddy always knows best? Oh honey.

He's tried to make me go to rehab, I won't go, go, go - Tantrum, anyone?

I'd rather be at home with Ray - Really? You can't listen to music anywhere except at home?

I ain't got seventy days - Not any more you don't.

'Cause there's nothing, there's nothing you can teach me 

That I can't learn from Mr. Hathaway - Shall we make a bet?

Didn't get a lot in class - *Gasp* No! Really?

But I know it don't come in a shot glass - There I was thinking you preferred it by the bottle.

They tried to make me go to rehab, I said, "No, no, no" 

Yes, I've been black but when I come back you'll know know know

I ain't got the time and if my daddy thinks I'm fine

He's tried to make me go to rehab, I won't go, go, go

The man said, "Why do you think you here?"

I said, "I got no idea - Har har har.  Good one Amy.  Pull the other, it's got bells on.

I'm gonna, I'm gonna lose my baby

So I always keep a bottle near" - ...to beat him into submission?

He said, "I just think you're depressed" - No shit Sherlock. Give the man a prize!

Kiss me, "Yeah baby, and the rest" 

They tried to make me go to rehab, I said, "No, no, no"

Yes, I've been black but when I come back you'll know, know, know

I don't ever wanna drink again - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZ7BcumfEXo

I just, ooh, I just need a friend

I'm not gonna spend ten weeks

Have everyone think I'm on the mend

And it's not just my pride - Really? It's not?

It's just 'til these tears have dried - So that's why she looked shrivelled! SHE WAS DEHYDRATED!

They tried to make me go to rehab, I said, "No, no, no"

Yes, I've been black but when I come back you'll know, know, know

I ain't got the time and if my daddy thinks I'm fine

He's tried to make me go to rehab, I won't go, go, go

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the sort of thing that runs through my head when my brain refuses to shut up and enjoy what I'm listening to or watching.  I am a self-confessed commentator - you should have heard me muttering at yesterday's Master It! meeting - and the worst person to sit next to at the cinema [hey, at least I don't go into full-blown critical analysis like this one guy I know].

Until next time folks!

Sincerely,

Macs

Would you risk your life for a contraceptive?

No.  I don't care how badly you don't want to get pregnant, the answer to that question is a definite, absolute, resounding no.

What's got into Macs today?, asks my dear reader.  Let me correct you.  It actually got into me 14 days ago.  Wow, that's specific! How do you know that?, you question.  Oh, well, I'm glad you asked.  I put it there.

Let's rewind to my yearly gynae appointment in the last week of September.  It went well - I was recovering from a bladder infection so I got to miss the smear test [this is the only time I will be grateful for having urethritis!], the doctor was pleasant and helpful as always, and very sympathetic to my plight.  What? Oh, my plight, yes well.  I wanted to change my contraceptive, to something ideally non-hormonal, or else to something with a small dose of hormones, because I'm prone to depression and would like to reduce anything that could affect it.  The non-hormonal options I was interested in were shot down in seconds because I've never had kids, and even though I explained exactly how much I don't want and never have wanted any anklebiters of my own, the doc was adamant.  No to the intra-uterine non-hormonal devices.  I gave in when she used the words 'uterine tearing', because I am extremely squeamish [thinking about it, I'm surprised I'm fine with the sight of blood].

So then we went through all the possibilities remaining to us: hormone injection every 3 months [downside: if I react badly, there's no taking it out], contraceptive patch [downside: fly abroad or give my prescription to someone going to the UK to bring back a supply, because Malta is of course run by idiots who thinks preventing pregnancy is a bad thing, ergo a contraceptive that's only good for contraception is the devil], hormone implants [see downside to hormone injection], or other pill-type contraceptives [downside: I get sick too often for this to be reliable, reason 2 for changing contraception].  That left only one option: a vaginal ring that releases the same hormones the pill does right at the source of all potential trouble.

Here's the sales pitch: no remembering to take it daily, you just put it in, leave it for 3 weeks, remove it, let 7 days pass, then repeat.  Hardly any side-effects, maybe some spotting during the first month of use, but otherwise it's perfect, especially because it doesn't cause mood swings.

-_-

You know what that face means people.  You know it, I know it.  Allow me to fill you in on the hell that has been my life since 5th October 2013.

Day 1: fine and dandy.

Day 2: fine and lazy.

Day 3: worry.

Day 4: worry worry.  Stress.

Day 5: stress.  Anger.  Stress.

Day 6: stress.  Anger.  Anger.  Anger.  Stress.

Day 7: stress.  Anger.  Stress.  Try not to cry.  Misery.

Day 8: misery.  Stress.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Misery.  Anxiety.

Day 9: misery.  Stress.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Misery.  Anxiety.

Day 10: misery.  Stress.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Misery.  Anxiety.

Day 11: misery.  Crying.  Stress.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Stress.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Misery.  Anxiety.

Day 12: misery.  Stress.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Crying.  Sobbing.  Crying.  Sobbing. Misery.  Stress stress stress.  Anger anger.  Crying.

Day 13: misery.  Stress.  Sobbing.  Stress.  Anxiety.  Stress.  Anxiety.  Sobbing.  Weeping.  Bawling.  Sobbing.  Misery.  Anxiety.  Crying.  Try not to kill myself by driving into something intentionally.  Sobbing bawling sobbing weeping sobbing crying sobbing bawling sobbing groaning.  Fear of leaving the house.

*something awesome and cool happens*

Day 14: Fine.  Fine.  Fine.  Anxiety.  Fine.  Anxiety.  Okay.  Anxiety.  Stress stress stress.  Okay.  Anxiety.  Okay.  Crushing disappointment.  Admit defeat.  Pretend all is well.  Try not to sob.  Calm down enough to explain what's happening.  Okay.  Bitter disappointment.  Frustration.  Frustration.  Super-frustration.  Anger.  Anger.  Crying.  Misery.  Fear of seeing other people.  Fear of communication.  Panic attack.  Anxiety.  Panic attack.  Crying.

If you bothered going through that, you'll have noticed the part where I said I tried not to kill myself.  I haven't had seriously suicidal thoughts since I was a young teenager going through the double whammy of puberty and depression.  As you can imagine, these sudden feelings of wanting to die added to my already excessive levels of panic, because if there's one thing I love it's living, and I wouldn't swap my life with someone else for anything because I really really really love my life.

Bring on resorting to the Internet.  I typed in 'nuvaring causes depression anxiety' and a plethora of forum posts show up.  You can imagine how sane I then felt: I wasn't the only woman turned overnight into a psychotic bitch whose crying exceeded her water intake all because of a little ring.  Yay me.  Then I saw the dates on the posts: 2008.  2007.  2006.  2005.  'Ah, so this bastard has been around for ages after all.  Interesting.' thought I.  Then: 2011.  2012.  2013.  'AHA!'  And I'm thinking, how does a gynae worth her salt not know how badly this thing can affect women with a history of depression?

Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to say: if you, or your lady, have had problems with your mental health, stay far away from Nuvaring.  I know I'm getting rid of my supply.

Sincerely,

Macs

Experiments in cooking

Coming to you live from my bedroom, I have been sitting down for at least half an hour because I'm tipsy.  Been having a go at the bottle, have we? No, no, not at all.  Actually yes, just a little.

Oh hush.  It's not what you're thinking, so wipe that smug smirk off your face you cheeky muppet.

Every now and again, motivated by cravings and boredom, I get the urge to cook.  I usually end up cooking the same recipes over and over, so sooner or later I get exasperated and try to change humble recipes into something tastier.

Today's attempt: vegetable soup.  Special ingredient to change up the recipe: red wine.

Yes, that's right, I'm tipsy on vegetable soup.  Since I'm sure many of you like, if not love, wine, and food, and wine in food, I'm sharing the recipe while it's fresh in my mind.  I call it... *tum tum ta TUM!*

Vino Veggie Soup [Alas, there isn't a synonym for soup starting with v! Join me in disappointment.]

Ingredients!
2 round marrows
2 carrots
1 garlic clove
1 large celery stick
3 small potatoes
1 cup of broad beans [Maltesers, these be our beloved ful]
1 cup of red wine [I used Bardolino, much to my horror upon discovery - far too good to cook with surely!]
1 teaspoon of salt
1 chicken stock cube
2 tablespoons of tarragon
1 teaspoon of turmeric
1 cup of rice
Lots of water [I play this by ear ;)]

1. Chop les vegetables!
2. Grab ye a big pot, turn on ye olde burner on a low flame, pour ye sunflower oil [or any oil suitable for light browning of les vegebables] in ye big pot.
3. Add les vegebables to ye big pot, biggest/hardest ones first, leave 5 minutes and add the rest.  Stir every so often - obviously don't let it burn!
4. Add yer turmeric and 1 tablespoon of tarragon.  Leave the veggies a-cooking till they darken a tad.
5. Add 3 cups of water, yer chicken cube, and yer cuppa vino.  Take a nice big swig of yer bottle of vino [This may have been unwise of me].  Leave yer pot on a low flame, add yer other tablespoon of tarragon, and leave yer pot like so for about 10 minutes.
6. Pretend I'm not saying 'yer'.  I'd stop but I've an Irishman yammering in me 'ed.  Yer lucky yer only getting an overload of 'yer'.
7. Back to yer soup! It should be steaming just a little.  Now's the time to add as much water as ye reckon yer pot will hold without watering down the soup too much.  Add yer cuppa rice.
8. Ye can turn up the heat now if ye like, or ye can leave it slow cooking, use yer judgement.

As for how long you cook it, well, I like my soup veggies to have a bit of a crunch, so I don't leave them more than 20 minutes simmering away.  It's all according to taste, ye ken?

I think I'm off for a lie-down.  Oh, deary, deary me.

Sincerely, 
Slightly tipsy,
Macs