One annoyance I suffer is from people with the same disorders as myself. Sleeping hard the other night at two in the morning, I was awakened by my accursed telephone. It was my best friend, John Smith. He was crying and told me that he couldn't sleep. I angrily replied, "Well... I can!" and hung up. After that call, I couldn't sleep. I rang up John Smith but there was no answer.

Complaining about pains in various parts of one's body is not a good way to start a conversation with me. John Doe, another friend of mine, said to me the other day, "My shoulders are so sore I can barely move my arms, and my feet really hurt."

After a few seconds, I responded, "How do they feel now?"

"The same," he answered with a questioning look on his face.

"Hmmm... I guess talking to me about it doesn't help." I tossed him a bottle of Tylenol. It was a large economy-size bottle, and knocked him unconscious. I didn't mean for the bottle to strike his head, but to be honest, I didn't really care how hard I threw it or where it landed. John had some relief from his pain, and I had discovered a method of causing Tylenol to be instantly effective. I considered the experience a successful therapy session.

Jane Smith, another friend of mine, was venting to me about her cable rates. I threw her remote control at her cable box, destroying both in an accident involving air and gravity. Then I calmly stated, "Problem solved. Now you can watch the same shitty channels as I get on my 9 inch television at home. Don't forget to cancel your cable bill, else the senseless destruction of your electronic equipment will have been in vain." Jane thanked me profusely and told me to get the hell out her house.

Jim Jones is an all right bloke, but his hands tend to shake all the time. He's got anxiety, a little worse than mine. It can get to be pretty frustrating. I reassured Jim yesterday by telling him that anxiety is cool -- it avoids the victim from having to spend his or her money on caffeinated soft drinks and illegal stimulants. He was grateful for the advice, and walked away without saying goodbye. It was one of those occasions where his hands shook so much he accidentally punched me in the face. I consider that a "thank-you" because I had forgotten my Tylenol that day and the force of his blow knocked me unconscious. I woke up on a street corner at two in the morning. I called John Smith for a ride home, but there was no answer.