This week’s session wasn’t so hot.

Janice, Dr. Lynn’s assistant with the wandering eye, told me that Dr. Lynn had run out for a spinach salad and asked if I would wait. Now, when I say wandering eye, I don’t mean that Janice visually gropes men in the presence of her boyfriend, or that she’s prone to adultery. I mean that her right eye literally embarks on its own nomadic journey towards her ear each time we converse face to face. It’s incredibly distracting, so much so that her words are usually muted to my donkey ears once that crazy eye starts sliding sideways. I mean, come on woman. Get that thing under control. Although today, I heard what she was saying loud and clear.

Janice (eye in place, behaving itself): Oh hi Donkey Pegasus. Dr. Lynn ran out for a quick spinach salad so she’ll be a few minutes. That okay?

Donkey Pegasus (eyes straight forward, hooves planted firmly in place despite the fact I’m instantly pissed that Dr. Lynn has no problem thwarting my time but man, when that clock of hers hits 50 minutes her time is spent): No, that’s fine Janice.

Janice (right eye beginning to jiggle and unhinge): So how are you? Dr. Lynn said that you started a blog.

Donkey Pegasus (1, 2, 3, 4, 5,): She did now? Oh, I get it. Now I’m really starting to figure her out. Dr. Lynn likes spinach salad and she doesn’t like doctor/patient confidentiality. Not much heed paid to Hippocrates in these parts, eh?

Janice (right eye looking out window, left eye looking at me): Wha?

(By the way, that counting thing is something Dr. Lynn taught me. She said that counting to ten when I feel instant anger will diffuse and buffer my initial reactions. Likely story.)

Donkey Pegasus (6, 7, 8, 9, 10): Nothing, forget it.

And just then, as though these small encounters with Janice are staged to test me, as though Janice’s wandering eye is some devious test of tolerance, Dr. Lynn comes gallivanting into the office. Her hair was in some quasi-bouffant and she had a giant splotch of vinaigrette on her yellow suit. She’s tall, and the suit makes her look like Big Bird (and oh how I hate Big Bird) or a big stupid banana with a brown spot.

Dr. Lynn (noticing me noticing the stain on her jacket then acknowledging the stain by rubbing it with her hand, as though her hand is some magic laundry wand): Oh, hi Donkey Pegasus. Thanks so much for waiting, come on in.

I plop down on Dr. Lynn’s black leather settee as she gets herself a Pellegrino.

Dr. Lynn: Care for one?

Me: Not unless it’s a Tanqueray martini with six tomolives.

Dr. Lynn: What?

Me: Nothing, forget it.

Dr. Lynn (Getting serious now, leafing through my ‘file’ and straightening her severe, chunky eyeglasses): So. I’ve been reading your blog.

Me: So I’ve heard. Young Janice nearly made it seem like you two gals kicked up your heels, popped some corn, and treated it like Sex in the City night in the Castro.

Dr. Lynn: I hardly believe that.

Me: Welll…Uh. Ripley’s Believe it or Not!

(Great. I’ll be replaying that lemon of a comeback for at least a week, constantly reinventing and improving it, chipping away at it, smoothing it curves like Michaelangelo would, until I’ve sculpted the best comeback ever. I mean, it will be tight and lean and graceful and witty. Just perfect, really. But what for? The moment has passed… nobody’s listening. What’s it all about Donkey Pegasus? Then comes the remorse, then pure shame, followed by the ordering of two large Round Table pepperoni, onion, mushroom, and jalapeno pizzas and eating them all, gorging myself, until I can fit no more loathsome carbohydrates into my empty soul. Then the tsunami of regret rolls in under the Golden Gate and washes over me until I’m catatonic in my nest, gulls circling overhead with pity in their calls. And donkeys are lactose intolerant, so I’ll have bad gas too. Jesus God, what a stupid comeback.)

Dr. Lynn: All I said to Janice is that I’m suggesting a blog to some of my computer savvy patients as a healthy outlet for their expressions. She asked me if anybody had taken on the challenge and I told her yes, but only one: Donkey Pegasus. I was proud of you and that’s why I told her. I did not, however, tell her the content of the blog but let me remind you that www.donkeypegasus.com is publicly available.

(Great, bring on the guilt.)

You know what? Let’s skip the rest of this part. I don’t really think this part is all that interesting. Let’s jump to the part where Dr. Lynn tells me that she thinks I have a drinking problem! As if!

Dr. Lynn: Donkey Pegasus, I think you have a drinking problem.

Me: What? Me? You’re crazy. Drinking problem? Me? Naw, really? I mean, Dr. Lynn, I hardly think I have a drinking problem.

Dr. Lynn: Donkey Pegasus, can I read you the list of alcoholic beverages I’ve either heard you mention or read on your blog just this week?

Me: If that’s something that would satisfy you, sure.

Dr. Lynn (clearing her throat, sitting back in her chair): Seven gin martinis with a total of 42 tomolives in one night. While I’m most concerned about the alcohol, I do feel compelled to mention that there’s enough sodium in 42 tomolives to be of concern to a donkey. I’m just saying. Anyway, I went on to count an egregious consumption record during your trip to Las Vegas. Something like 27 margaritas, 39 beers, a box of wine, not to mention anything you didn’t mention or drank while you were blacked out. Donkey Pegasus, donkeys aren’t supposed to drink this much.

Me: I’m not a donkey. I’m a donkey pegasus, alright? There’s a difference.

Dr. Lynn: I don’t think your wings make it okay to binge to this intensity. I’m only saying this out of concern.

Me: Fine, so I overindulge a bit. But only in party settings.

Dr. Lynn: You don’t drink in your nest at night when you don’t go out?

Me: Dr. Lynn, do you think I have a refrigerator in my nest?

Dr. Lynn: I really have no way of knowing.

Me: Cocktail shaker? Jigger? Ice cubes?

Dr. Lynn: I was just asking.

Me: Martini glass? Tomolives? Cocktail picks? I mean, come on Lynn. That’s a lot of gear.

Dr. Lynn: What do you eat then?

Me: I get takeout.

Dr. Lynn: Do you really think that’s a healthy diet?

Me: Jeez Dr. Lynn, who are you? My mother?

Dr. Lynn: No, I’m not. But now that you bring her up, I wish we could talk about her. I’m sure she’s somehow at the root of these issues.

Me: Alright, time’s up.

Dr. Lynn: Actually, we started late today. We still have five minutes.

Me: How about you take the extra five and go work on that stain.

Dr. Lynn: (Speechless.)

I tell ya. This woman is giving me an ulcer.