The Tragedy of PPD

willowanne@gmail.com (Auntie Willow) — Mon, 09 Apr 2007 14:48:48 -0700

Well Dearies,
I've been doing some other little side projects lately.
And today I'm not going to talk to you about stupid ole' politics. Instead, this week I'm going to show you some of the other things that Auntie has been, ahhhh, "Whipping Up" so to speak.
Today I'm going to talk to you about a very serious condition that afflicts all too many people. An affliction that is both debilitating and heart-wrenching.
I'm talking about "Prophylactic Personality Disorder" or as I have dubbed it (being the daring yet beautiful scientist to give the world this breakthrough) PPD.
Don't worry Dear Ones, you can look up Prophylactic in your dictionaries. I'm all about teaching the little ones, doncha know!
Your Mommies would probably pee the carpet (I giggle just thinking about it!) if they heard you use that word. Instead, you just point out that we all know Prophylactic means a preventative, or something that stops something from happening. You know how your Mommy makes you drink Orange Juice before that little kid she calls "Wheezy Timmy" comes around to play? Or she makes you shampoo with that Special Shampoo and use the special comb when you get back from a sleepover with the Hodgkiss Twins, the ones that are always scratching their heads? That's an example of a PROPHYLACTIC use of something.
What your Mommy is probably thinking of is something that is nasty and sinful. I won't talk about that right now. Actually, it's safer to get on with the definition of PPD.
Simply put, Prophylactic Personality Disorder is something that will safely prevent an affected person from EVER having what your Mommy and Daddy call a "Date" (where people meet and decide to become Mommies and Daddies. Sometimes when they first meet. Sometimes the first time they meet and in the backseat of a Buick!) Anyway, these unlucky people will never meet that special someone: because of their own Personalities! (At least not without Fifty-Bucks and one of those Prophylactics that your Mommy doesn't want you to know about!).
I can give you an example. We all know that little Timmy (remember, the wheezy little kid) EATS HIS OWN BOOGERS! We also all know how gross that is. Now imagine that Timmy is all grown up. Say his 35th birthday is June the 12th (I'm just pulling this one out of the air) and that he drives a Kia automobile and lives at the corner of Main and Tremont. I'm just saying. No, I don't mean anyone in particular. Yes Dearies, my ex does happen to live in that neighborhood. Why yes, he does also drive a Kia. No, I'm just p.OK STOP!
Where were we? Oh yes. Now, you can see how he's SO ICKY that no girl wants to talk to him, even though he's Thirty-five years old? THAT'S Prophylactic Personality Disorder! His very personality is preventing him from meeting someone else! And unless he can CHANGE his personality, he's never going to meet anybody, either!
No Dearies, I don't have PPD. I choose to be alone. To tell you the truth Significant Others are too demanding. ALWAYS whining with the "Please let me eat" or "I beg you for the love of God Uncuff me I swear I will never again mention that you're two kitties shy of being a crazy cat lady" and stuff like that.
No, Dears, these people WANT significant Others, but as long as there is cheap pepper spray on the market, they are unable to get a date.
Which would be a shame, Dear Ones, except if you actually MET any of these people, you would TOTALLY understand why that is so.
Yet never one to shirk her humanitarian duty, I have taken it upon myself to discover a cure for this terrible malady.
I am convinced that with Corrective Behavioral Conditioning (that means Spanking Dear Ones) I could help many of these people achieve their pathetic little goals of talking to a real-live other human being without being assaulted.
But funds are limited! I only have so many hours in the day, Dears, and I don't want to get "Tennis Elbow" again from laying down so much corrective discipline! Won't you please have your Mommy and Daddy Send whatever that can to help in this vital work? ~~My Nobel Prize~~ The well-being of these unfortunate souls could hang in the Balance!
But if one of them calls me "Sugar Tits", you can look for him at the F*$<'n Morgue.
I'm just sayin!
Now, I must go rehearse my Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech.

Latte Lectures - Psychology

The Tragedy of PPD