Pass the Zoloft

Living in L.A., it seems like everyone and their mother is on prescribed antidepressants. Some might say it's because of their mother, some might say its because they're married to their mother. But the fact is, in a town named after shiny, smiling angels, clearly no one in Los Angeles wants to be unhappy (hence the very clever stringing of"anti" and "depressant". ) With this compound word bringing in almost as much money as the non-FDA approved "Star" and "Bucks", this blog will attempt to unravel exactly why everyone is so unsatisfied with life. It will ponder why we rush to jobs we hate only to rush home to families we complain about. It will question how our society can't communicate with each other, yet racks up gi-normous cell phone bills. It will consider how we won't talk to our neighborhood gas station attendant and cashier, but we will vigilantly check into the blogs of strangers to find answers to life's daily quandries, such as, "Why is motherhood so hard?", "What happens after death", and "Does diet Coke with splenda really taste as good as the original?" I'd like to take a crack at some of those burning questions right now, but I have to take my Zoloft.