Judith’s grandmother was eaten by an armchair.
We don’t know how it happened.
Judith’s grandmother was eaten by an armchair.
We don’t know how it happened.
I wrote this last summer and decided not to publish it.
Tonight, I read back through it and discovered I don’t remember feeling this way.
June 11, 2013
I’ve been having this recurring nightmare; everything I own is covered in sewage but it only bothers me.
Sunday I woke up feeling absolutely wonderful, it was easy for me to get out of bed and nothing hurt. I thought about all the things I could accomplish and how maybe, I just had the flu or all my problems were attributed to some horrible food allergy. I thought I could still go to work and afford my own place while going to school. I thought this is never going to be an awkward conversation I have to have on a first date, I thought I will never have to depend on somebody to take care of me, I thought I’m going to stop crying, I thought my hair will never fall out again, I thought I’ll never worry what is going to happen if I get a cold. I thought maybe it was all nothing. I forgot about everything and started breathing.
I fell asleep watching television later that day. I woke up unable to move. My head was pounding and it felt like lead had been poured in all my bones. My arms were numb and my fingers were on fire. I remembered my hair falling out, the rashes on my face and my mri results. Heartbreak doesn’t describe that kind of disappointment. I’ve been doing everything I can to keep moving forward, it doesn’t seem to be enough. I tried to think rationally about it, I signed up for classes, I made arrangements to move back home.
It’s hard to plan for something when you don’t know or understand exactly what it is going to do to you. I may or may not be around for 60 years, I need to be able to afford a chronic illness, or, what if I need to spend time enjoying my life?
I want to snap. I want to make reckless decisions and ruin homes. I want to carve my flesh until bones are bare. I want blood to run from my eyes. I want to lose everything I’ve ever been. I need it. I need to forget who I am and all the things I’ve done, but I can’t. I keep walking upright no matter how hard I try to crawl. An iron spine taunts me and breaks my fury.
Please somebody tell me you care about the fucking sewage.
Yesterday my toothpaste fell in the toilet. I felt real sorry for myself.
Currently my laptop is overheating and burning the tops of my thighs. It’s making me angry but as of yet, I haven’t done anything about it.
I keep my webcam covered because I’m concerned some pervy hacker can see what I’m doing; he’ll see me without my makeup on, and at an unflattering angle.
For some reason I’m getting updates from Hitler on my twit page. I’m wondering if he knows I frequent the catsthatlooklikehitler website. Hitler knowing that information is of concern to me.
I’ve been playing angry cat videos to get a rise out of my cat, she no longer cares. It used to be so much fun.
I have two stories I need to finish by November, yet I’ve decided to work on Halloween costumes instead. My cat has destroyed both attempts I’ve made on my costume. Maybe she’s trying to tell me something, but she’s probably just being an asshole.
I keep cancelling plans because I never know when I’m going to feel unwell, but then my friends see me riding my bike and find out I actually feel amazing.
I’m doing an open mic night in October, come see me.
Hey Phil- It’s me Sam.
I’m just calling to let you know I can’t make it in today. That superhero alliance group, the one with all the weirdos in skinny clothes, .. yeah well they just fucked up my entire life last night.
First my cable was knocked out and then the naked green man threw a fucking plane in my bedroom. Good thing I was watching Letterman in the living room. After that the little guy in tight pants with the arrows, you know the one, came running around the corner screaming about something. I don’t know what he said because I couldn’t hear him over the airplane engine.
As I was throwing on my jacket and running out the door I noticed the Jesus haired one bashing in my car with a hammer. Apparently he didn’t care that the car belonged to me and not whoever the fuck it was they were harassing. I told him I needed his insurance information and he just ran away.
Oh yeah, that jerk-off in the stars and stripes costume stole my damn dog. He said “This fella looks mighty terrified, let me take him off your hands!”
I told him “You’re god damned right he’s terrified!! Get off my lawn!” and that’s when he kicked dirt in my face and stole Terrence!
I called the cops to complain and file something, they just laughed it off, “Oh those guys!” they said. Can you believe that shit?
This has been an absolute nightmare. I had to take a cab to the motel six. Now I have to call the electric company, the cable company and the insurance company. I have thirty bucks in my pocket and I don’t even have any hope of a thing to spend it on.
You know what, fuck it. I quit I’m not coming in.
Walking down the steps outside of her apartment, Eleanor slipped on a seashell and rolled down the entire flight of stairs. She shattered both knees and knocked four of her front teeth out.
Nobody knows what happened to the teeth. Eleanor is positive she didn’t swallow them; they haven’t come up in the toilet yet. Her dentist, Dr. Fatts thinks she may have lost them somersaulting down the hill into the ravine below. Eleanor refuses to search there, she’d have to get on her knees and look.
Rickles, a puckish raccoon from the streets, was perplexed when he caught sight of Lana, a beaver with a past, sporting a brand new set of teeth.
I have this problem with laughing by myself in public.
Several years ago I worked at a salon inside Wal-Mart. Between the hours of 6 and 8 the shop was pretty dead. I spent most evenings spinning in chairs.
One of the door greeters was constantly coming in to talk. Having a social disability she was trained in things that were appropriate to say, I was usually asked, “Oh are you busy today? Where’s Francis!?”
I’d respond, “Oh, I was earlier today, Francis had the day off.” She would shake her short crop of black hair, stare out of dazed eyes and look around for a chair to sit in. I had to come up with the things to talk about until her supervisor would come looking.
On an extremely slow day when I was standing outside watching the snow fall, she came up to me and said “John is in the wheelchair again.”
I didn’t know who John was and she walked away before I could ask.
Today I was cutting a guy’s hair when that memory came to mind. I started to laugh. The client had no idea why this was happening, he had a reasonable look of confusion on his face. He asked how long I’d been working there.
5 years ago I was buying toilet paper and gum when I noticed a box of snuggies in the checkout aisle. The image of a person wearing a snuggie being chased by a masked murderer flashed through my head. The knife wielder was pissed off about snuggies. He hated everything about them. I heard frantic hoarse breathing and saw the terrified victim, their eyes wide with horror. The snuggie would be flapping against their bare legs as they tried to avoid tripping over the front of it. I couldn’t decide which image was funnier, the snuggie runner wearing ankle boots without socks, or the person being barefoot causing the sound of foot slapping on the pavement. I was dying.
There were two people in front of, and at least three people behind me. I couldn’t control the laughter. I had tears streaming down my face. It was the funniest and most humiliating moment of my life.
I called my friend Linda and told her about it.
Christmas rolled around..
This is what a true friend does:
God is the popular kid in high school who doesn’t like you unless you have the name brand jeans.
The Devil is the kid who sits alone and will be your friend just for talking to him.
I’ve had a twitter for quite some time. I’ll go a week where I’ll update it non-stop and then I forget all about it. I don’t know how to find, and also, maintain the followers I have.
Of course I googled how to build up a following and one of the suggestions was making an instructional video.
I don’t really do anything. I’ve spent my evening eating cookies, and I must say, I’m pretty good at it.
There is nudity, it’s just magic so you can’t see it.
so um.. I don’t see how this helped with the twitter.
I don’t know if I’m noticing because of my age, or if there really is an abundance of these “What men want” “what women want” articles. After scouring the internet for the most common themes here are a few points from both sides:
1. Women like their men to buy them presents just because.
2. Men lie to you to make you feel better about yourself. “Does this outfit look okay?” ”Yeah poop, it’s lovely”
3. Women like hearing sweet messages whispered to them when they least expect it, “Oh you, I just adore you.”
4. A man wants a woman who is playful (such as playing sports and what-not)and super sarcastic.
5. Women don’t like it when men complain.
This is all bullshit.
My sex doesn’t have anything to do with how I respond to this. My ability to empathize and use reasoning do. In short, I’m a human before I’m a vagina.
A. I make my own money, if I want something I already have it. If I don’t, it’s because I couldn’t swing the Benz payment. If you go and get it for me then I feel obligated to get you something in return, which is pretty shitty of you because I’m already short on funds, way to be an asshole.
B. The only time I will ever ask if my outfit is okay is if I don’t know the dress code. I don’t give a shit about your attire, if you want to dress like Lloyd Christmas go right ahead. I didn’t consult you when I bought the clothes, obviously I already like them, your opinion doesn’t matter. BUT, if something is glaringly obvious, you’re supposed to be my friend, “Hey, you have something in your teeth” is greatly appreciated.
C. I can’t understand hot breath and hisses. I fucking hate it when somebody whispers to me. I have to say “What” or “huh” about five times before I just start pretending I know what you said. Don’t do it.
D. I find it pretty hard to believe everybody likes playing sports and dating a person who is either a huge asshole or just joking all the time.
E. I LOVE it when the person I’m dating complains about something. Depending on how you do it, bitching can be a real bonding experience. Nobody wants to date a person who is thrilled with everything. “I fucking love the Kardashinanagins!” No, you don’t. Everybody hates them. Talk about how you secretly watch, because you loathe them so much you can’t keep your eyes off. That’s a god damned conversation right there.
These are just my thoughts on issues, and I am still single. So…
Maybe I should start playing tennis with my gear that somebody else paid for, while calling everybody a bitch, with my boyfriend whispering sweet nothings I can’t hear until he speaks up to praise my bad behavior, “My my, I just love the way you berate all my friends. No complaints coming from this guy.”
My microwave turned itself on about 10 minutes ago.
I looked up how this would happen… and right now a message from iTunes popped up telling me the item wasn’t available in the US, I wasn’t even on iTunes. What is happening with my stuff?
Anyway back to why my microwave started on it’s own volition. According to a few ‘Ask so and so’ sites, my device needs a new brain. Well I would say so. I didn’t even it know it had a brain. Never once has it ever had a helpful suggestion. I’m little pissed. Clearly I’ve been shafted in the microwave department. My whole life could have been filled with instrumental information.
“What the shit is Pi divided by xyz?”
“Shit, what’s xyz?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what Pi is? I thought it was a pastry. ”
“Oh jeez, this is one for the microwave.”
“OHhhh, I forgot we had that extra brain.”
How did I miss out on this? I needed that microwave years ago. I could be in a mansion. I could have a Rolls-Royce. I could have had all that plastic surgery I wanted!!! This is fiendishly unjust.
I have to share a washing machine. I live in a one bedroom loft. There is a constant moaning coming from across the hall. One of my neighbors was dead for months before anyone noticed. The smell was around, sure, but the tenants aren’t the most hygienic of folks, and the stench was ignored. I have to get out of this place.
Could somebody swing by and grab Stephen Hawking’s microwave for me?