When not keeping society with myself, I have one friend my age, the rest are people much older than myself. The one my age and I have been friends 17 years or so, and in those years our interests have taken divergent paths, but we remain firmly linked together in our own way. The older friends, however, were the ones with whom I had lunch.  One of them, I’ll call her Bess, wanted to do something nice for my 33rd and our friend, Bob’s 79th birthday who born on the 8th too…told you I hung out with an older crowd didn’t I? The oldest of our merry crowd is 87, Bob’s wife, Lily. I feel closest to Lily, though heaven knows we’re rather different. She has the personality of a lion while I’m a chicken, age not mellowing her temperament, which can be super hilarious.

Bob is about 8 years younger than Lily.  His family lived way up north, but I guess this is where the US deposited him when they discharged him from service. He contracted malaria in Korea and lived to tell about it, but got sent home.  A man like Bob is too tender-hearted to be Rambo anyway. He once said, “We fired but couldn’t see the targets. I hope I didn’t hit nobody.” Not everybody is so kind. I once heard a WWII veteran say “I killed me 500 Japs in the war and if I could, I’d kill 500 more,  but the government says we can’t now.”  Total WTF moment there, but he was a bit non compos mentes.

Anyway, back to Bob. While here, he met Lily. Once during their loving courtship, Bob kept joshing her about something, maybe an oddly fitting coat, while in a diner. In full Lily-rage, she picked up a bowl of soup and hurled it at a wall. Some 50 something years later, she still won’t go there to eat. Luckily, the rest of their relationship and marriage was less turbulent. I wish I could have seen that, though. Lily is a tiny woman,  not even 5.’  Too bad they didn’t  have jokers with camera phones and Youtube in the early 50s.  Bob just smiles now at his wife, calm as can be, and basically lets her have her way, a dynamic that seems to  work for them.

We all met Bess and her husband, Arnold, at Wendy’s. I opted for the dollar menu burger because I hate to spend other people’s money, you know? Bob and Lily live on a fixed income, so it’s always fun to see what they found as a re-gift for me. It was a cute figurine of 2 snowmen. I love Christmas stuff; it’s enduring if I don’t break it. We got Bob a raunchy Christmas card befitting an elderly man not enjoying the active Bob Dole lifestyle.  The card was of a fat, ugly middle age stripper whose titties vibrate when you open the card.

Bess, who is in her 50s, won’t go to a doctor to save her life, but I have a feeling the poor woman actually wants to die on some level.  She has neurological issues and refuses to get help. I can’t really say much considering what happened to me back in September:

Pissing blood  =  no doctor

Severe pain in my stomach = no doctor

Accidents = no doctor

High fever and dizziness = nope

Vomiting = Doctor, but only because I know next step to set in is blood poisoning thanks to Web MD, not so much my mom’s begging.

So yeah, not the best person to lecture someone about doctors, but still. She was in pain sitting with us, pain running up her leg. Earlier in her life she rode in a car that leaked monoxide inside,  plus her mother had Parkinson’s.

“I’m going to be so miserable going up to see the baby, but I have to go this weekend or we won’ get to see her for awhile…Oh I’m so miserable! “

It turns out that her family are coming to North Carolina, but her no count son and daughter-in-law can’t come here. She loves that baby so much and her sorry asshat of a son too. The son did an unthinkable thing, a slap to her and Arnold. Arnold had adopted Bess’s children, and though he’s always in a bad mood, he was good to those children. Anyway, Dipshit changed his name and his baby’s name too to his maternal grandfather’s name “to keep the name of his family going.” You know that had to hurt his poor mother. I recall one time I was at Bess’ house and she talked of running over one of her cats, and she said sadly, “My son loved that cat more than me.”

Bess is one of those unfortunate souls who was born with a “Kick me” sign on her forehead. While my “kick me” sign is  written in rose-pink, hers sign is fire engine red. I felt that rage I hate so much boiling up as Arnold said nasty things to his wife. If I could remove my emotion of anger, I would. I equate anger with being “bad.” My therapist is working with me on that one.  I generally don’t get mad if someone does something to me, I can rationalize that I deserve it, but it boils if I see someone being bullied. Bess asked Arnold to get some condiments and something else and he flared.   “You just sat by the wall so I’d have to do everything”

Bess’ eyes were tearing up again.  I said in a pretty hateful tone loud enough to be heard, “Don’t be upset, Bess. He’s just in a BAD MOOD.” Man, I was getting my dander up.

“He’s always like that,’ said Bess. It’s my party and she’ll cry if she wants to, cry if she wants to, cry if she wants to.

When someone needed something else, I said pointedly, “I’ll get it.”

Oh well, free burgers.

Afterward, Bess insisted on taking us for doughnuts, so we went to Dunkin’ and I had a chocolate one and one with rainbow sprinkles.  Sourpuss spent this part of our fine gathering staying in the car and calling his father. The funny thing is he isn’t a bad guy. He’s nice if one talks to him and would do anything for you despite his treatment of his wife. I think he’s anxiety ridden and that’s enough to get tad cross. Rubbing  his face like someone who can’t be still, my hands are always doing something too (could be boredom too. Who am I? Dr. Phil?).

Once we had left the joyous crew, my mom and I went looking around shops. First Best Buy but didn’t see anything that this fool would part with her money over. Then to Kmart, the ‘K’ in Kmart standing for “Klassy.” On our way inside, a Salvation Army woman began to ring her bell harder and tap it against her bucket,which to be truthful, made me somewhat annoyed. If I have a dollar on me, by golly, I give it to them. Which this season amounted to 2 dollars in my holiday travels about town, but today I didn’t have cash. On our way out, I didn’t  see  her of the persistent bell, so I said “Oh good the witch is gone” (witch being meant in the context of the Wicked Witch of the West, not as a slight to Pagans).

But whoops she was huddled against the building taking a break. No doubt she heard me. Damn. Damn. Damn and damnation. Sorry about that, Woman, wherever you are.

On to Toys ‘R Us where all the unlaid 30-somethings go on their birthdays. Oh hell yes, Strawberry Shortcake dolls, buy one get the second 50% off! You know, I’m all about value. Then, in the clearance section, I found one of the Sweet Secrets dolls from their unsuccessful relaunch. Cute? Yes! Anorexic? Um yeah.

Toys ‘R Us Strawberry Shortcake Exclusive Set
Magic Braid Strawberry Shortcake
New Anorexic Sweet Secrets Doll
A 1980s Sweet Secrets Doll Before Joining Weight Watchers

Next, went to Baskin Robbins and bought myself a birthday cake, which was featured in my firstvideolog. Good times! It was fairly cool out that evening, so we left the ice cream cake in the car and went to Pizza Hut.

The next day, my best friend called and she took me out for Chinese at a beautiful restaurant as her gift to me, and we went to a consignment shop, then a thrift shop. I bought my mom a snowman (the one in a picture before my second videolog, the one that was way too long like this post is) and a snowman napkin holder for her snowman collection.

Holy me, finally the end of this post, almost 2 months after my birthday, but who cares, right?

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