Click here to go home. by xPheremone
Click here to go home. THEY CALL HER DR. X

Tired of all the anxiety your little Crowe has caused all these years? Sick of the migraines you get when you see Russ cheating on you with yet ANOTHER woman? Well ... IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD!!! But maybe we can help. Email us your troubles. Dr. X is more than qualified to diagnose and treat your ailment! She holds a Pm.S. degree in Reverse Psychology specializing in Criminal Pathology. She has over 15 years experience in psychological settings - mental hospitals, fortune cookies, boyfriends, "group therapy" (taking an uzi to the in-laws) - you name it.


Dear X,

I find myself in a bit of a perplexing situation as of late. On one hand, I have the "American dream," but on the other hand, there is this deep seeded gnawing from somewhere beneath my soul that I am unable to explain, much less begin to understand.

It all started on normal Saturday evening with a trip to my local video store. I decided on a movie that had a lot of buzz at the time, yet I had never seen it. It was the Academy Award Winning "LA Confidential". It looked promising, just perfect for the nights entertainment. It had action, mystery, good cops, bad guys, damsels in distress, bullets (gotta have bullets) everything a guy needs to relax and enjoy the night. Being a former officer of the law, I felt I could handle anything. Little was I aware what awaited me in this wonderful make believe world of deceit and deception.

I was instantly drawn into the most intimate moments of the characters lives. I found myself particularly drawn to one of the main leads. The strength of honor, complexity of self and the ability to command the screen with a simple gaze or silent gesture intoxicated ... no, mesmerized ... no, captivated every fiber of my being. I wanted to be in LA, I wanted to be back in the 1950's with beautiful dames and cool gents. I wanted the full experience promised by the enticing video jacket. I wanted to investigate the murders of several patrons at the corner diner and inadvertently uncover a drug deal gone bad, police corruption, and a prostitution ring. I wanted to be them - one of them in particular.

As the ending of the movie drew closer my heart plummeted to the bottom of disappear knowing that I would have to leave the stimulating world of illusion and nose-dive fear first back into my lack-luster millpond of a meaningless existence. I was instantaneously and unequivocally depressed.

It was at that moment the bitter reality of my pathetic life was replaced by the divine deity of inspiration. I knew now that I had it within me to change everything. I would recreate myself. I would change the way I walked, talked, dressed, drank, slept, spoke, everything. I would become the person I began to now idolize from the movie. I would be reborn.

Here is where the complexity of my situation has become most evident. I need your help. How do I, goodness this is embarrassing. How do I (sigh). Hell, I will just spit it out -

How do I explain to my wife the fact that I have chucked the suits, ties and long, boring work days in exchange for a more flowing, relaxing gorgeous white satin dress and intimate parties? How do I tell her that I replaced the middle class, all American hair cut for a luminous long blond wig? And what can I do to let her know that I now prefer to be called Lynn Bracken or if you're really, really naughty (and can pay enough) you can call me Veronica Lake? Oh, and do you think that these shoes match this dress (see photo enclosed)?

Sincerely,

Inexperienced and Impressionable


X: Tom? Is that you Tom? I recognized the address on the envelope. Remember me? We met at the masquerade ball Disney threw last Friday the 13th. I was Tweedle Dee and you were ... well ... what were you anyway? Snow White? So how's Nicole and the kids? This is great! Oh, I'm so excited I didn't even read your letter. Lets see ... oh ... oh my ...


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