EpiPens

I think that’s what they’re called, those things people stab themselves with when they have some sort of wack attack or something. Well….let me tell you something about epiPens – they’re really starting to piss me off. It all started a few months ago when I was out to dinner with about 20 people, 18 of which I had never met before in my life. We’re settling in to the table and I’m fantasizing about whether I should do liquor or wine, debating the pros and cons — fall asleep at the table (wine) or throw the table across the room in a fit of rage (liquor) when I snap out of my fog as I hear the woman next to me asking “Does anyone have an epiPen?”. UMMMMM…excuse me? I must not be hearing that correctly I thought. But no, for reals, this crazy bitch is looking for an epipen, she CASUALLY tells everyone that she forgot hers at home and wants to have one in case she starts to lose her shit. Here’s the kicker, no one has one. So I sit there for the rest of the night thinking about the fact that I don’t know one single life saving technique, it almost ruined my buzz. My 2nd epipen situation also happened at a group dinner of about 6 people. Of course the crazy, annoying chick sits next to me and announces that she has a shellfish allergy but has an epipen in her purse. At this point, I’m so furious that she even came to the restaurant I decide to tell her that I am fully prepared to use it.  I know nothing about what an epipen even is but I decide I’m just going to take it out of her purse and stab her with it while she’s not paying attention. Well, that was my plan anyway, but then a DJ came on in the middle of this nice restaurant and I forgot all about that, next time.