Isn't that the end of it all? A pill that reduces anger, nullifies my Danish-Swedish Elin-esque temper and curbs my appetite all in one? True 'nuf. It's real and it exists. It's called Uranium Nictricum 30c, and it can be had in a dosage of 30c for 9 bucks US. Furthermore, it's legal (we don't live in Amsterdam after all) and all natural and organic.
Yes, of course it's homeopathic. It's the only way to fly.
As She told me before, "create a section for homeopathy," so starting with this blog, I will. I'll also go back and retag and recategorize the other daily pains I solve with natural medicines. Heck, if I can get rid of my slug problem with my neighbors' stale beer (does beer actually go stale? I have no idea. It all tastes stale to my uncultured mouth), then why not place something under my tongue that abates my internal vesuvious from eruption.
Here's the deal.
"Let me tell you," begins my Swami, his thick, Persian accent rich with wisdom. "Ever since the tsunami, the winds were blowing over Arizona. Every one of my clients in this area were having anger problems. Then nothing," he intones, his voice drops like a whisper during mass. "Then all of a sudden, my clients from Oregon and Washington started calling me--just like you-- expressing concern over anger problems." (I would never....) "So I looked up the weather patterns and sure enough, the winds are over the northwest. Of COURSE you are going to be suffering from anger."
This diagnosis eleased me from the undue burden of actually taking responsibility for my so-called anger, which in hindsight, I'm not even sure I experienced. I pay good money to be thusly validated.
"Take Uranium Nictricum 30c," he suggested. Knowing this stuff isn't always readily available in my wee-bitty town that caters to all things boxed, bottled and carbonated. "I'll send you some."
He did, and my now non-existent anger issues evaporated like the ever-hovering Washington clouds in mid-August. Seriously. I was no longer short-tempered, almost like a Valium-induced happy state that Rog called a "wierd sort-of mellow." It was the anti-Sarah, a normally loud, rather hyper type of person my friends know and tolerate. Swami told me to take it every other day until I sorted myself out (yes, you read that right. Apparently, the bad mo-jo in the air can seep in to the very skin on the body and sit there, like a boil ready to burst). "It must get out," he said in conclusion.
I waited with fear and trepidation for a Job-like experience, the house to fall on my kids, the cats to get eaten by a mountain lion, but lo, in the desert of Maple Trees that surround me, nothing untoward happened. Well, that's not exactly true. I was so friendly, Rog got downright amorous. Time to go off the Uranium Nictricum.
PS. I was kidding about the reduction in appetite. It's in full force. I will tell you when I get that pill:)
Yes, of course it's homeopathic. It's the only way to fly.
 |
| My swami. Don't be fooled by the tie. In a decade, I've only seen him wear either silk shirts or loud, hawaiin prints Don't hold it against him though. He's got the greatest head of hair known to man. |
Here's the deal.
"Let me tell you," begins my Swami, his thick, Persian accent rich with wisdom. "Ever since the tsunami, the winds were blowing over Arizona. Every one of my clients in this area were having anger problems. Then nothing," he intones, his voice drops like a whisper during mass. "Then all of a sudden, my clients from Oregon and Washington started calling me--just like you-- expressing concern over anger problems." (I would never....) "So I looked up the weather patterns and sure enough, the winds are over the northwest. Of COURSE you are going to be suffering from anger."
This diagnosis eleased me from the undue burden of actually taking responsibility for my so-called anger, which in hindsight, I'm not even sure I experienced. I pay good money to be thusly validated.
"Take Uranium Nictricum 30c," he suggested. Knowing this stuff isn't always readily available in my wee-bitty town that caters to all things boxed, bottled and carbonated. "I'll send you some."
He did, and my now non-existent anger issues evaporated like the ever-hovering Washington clouds in mid-August. Seriously. I was no longer short-tempered, almost like a Valium-induced happy state that Rog called a "wierd sort-of mellow." It was the anti-Sarah, a normally loud, rather hyper type of person my friends know and tolerate. Swami told me to take it every other day until I sorted myself out (yes, you read that right. Apparently, the bad mo-jo in the air can seep in to the very skin on the body and sit there, like a boil ready to burst). "It must get out," he said in conclusion.
I waited with fear and trepidation for a Job-like experience, the house to fall on my kids, the cats to get eaten by a mountain lion, but lo, in the desert of Maple Trees that surround me, nothing untoward happened. Well, that's not exactly true. I was so friendly, Rog got downright amorous. Time to go off the Uranium Nictricum.
PS. I was kidding about the reduction in appetite. It's in full force. I will tell you when I get that pill:)
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