Dollar Tree Walkthrough

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And then my best friend told me to ‘drop dead.’ How nice.

Bitchfest 2019

Feeling a tad morose. A wee bit lugubrious. A little low. She who usually only contacts me for a favor, hits me up to watch her dogs for the weekend. Mercifully, as bad as this sounds, she’s down from 8 to 4 dogs from the elderly ones passing away. God, that sounds awful, but 8 poorly behaved dogs is a lot to handle. Four dogs, one of whom has diverticulitis and shits up the house, is enough. It won’t be so bad, but as always, I feel she isn’t telling me something. Maybe she’s just having an impromptu beach weekend, but I have the feeling she’s sick physically, emotionally, or both. I wish everything wasn’t a game of having to surmise what is happening.

And the real bitch of the thing is I had her as a reference for me volunteering for Crisis Text Line… and CTL says they never received her reference. Though she says she sent it. I don’t even want to ask. Maybe it was too upsetting for her to do, maybe it’s a mistake. I just really want to be able to say one day I made a difference. If I drop dead tomorrow from one cheeseburger too many, there will be no noble epitaph for my life.

Lisa -Filled a void in her mother’s life. Then her mother died, so she fed some cats.

Oh well, life is what you make it, I guess. I’m up to 60 YouTube subscribers. Three are men into fatties and belching, the rest are people just being nice. Still, that’s more than I thought I’d get. If I get internet famous, who needs a useful life.

Another thing. I’m convinced my upstairs neighbors loathe me. I was sitting outside when the man came out. I said hello. He didn’t say hi back. Not the first time either. Then his significant other game along with their two kids.

“Who is that?” said one kid.

“Someone you don’t need to bother,” said the mother. Maybe she didn’t want the kid bothering me, but I felt dismissed as the crazy cat lady. No other acknowledgement. I once even introduced myself when she brought me back my alarming phone when I lost it. No reply except that she had been trying to go to sleep. Maybe they’re just pot smoking assholes.

But then I also fucked up. I’m pretty sure I did. There was a little pink drawing desk all muddy from being left outside. It was left in the hallway two weeks, so I figured it had been abandoned. Maybe it had not been. I use it as a bedside table since my mattress is on the floor. If I put it back there, it’s an admission of guilt. I feel bad. Maybe they hate me for that too?

Anyway, Happy Memorial Day weekend!

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Twitching

My right arm just below my shoulder is pulsating off and on as though it is a separate being. For some reason, the occasional twitches and pulsations of my body are fascinating to me. I think it’s my nerves. Every few seconds comes the twitch, which lasts for a few more seconds. The pulsing is so fast, I can’t count how many times it pulsates. What a thrill.

Sometimes it’s my right eye, rapid like a bird beating her wings. Then I must capture it in the mirror or with my camera, my own private freak show. Fortunately, this twitching happens infrequent enough to be amusing to me and even calming. Look I’m still alive! There’s my brain misfiring again.

Starting in high school, I noticed in my left palm a vein that I could watch pulsate if I rested my hand just so on my desk. This must’ve seemed like a swell parlor trick to me because covertly watching my vein pulse also calmed me.

I twitch my nose also, but this is voluntary. But I’m so used to doing it that it’s more I have to consciously stop myself from doing it. It’s like twiddling your thumbs, except it’s my freaking nose. I also move my mouth too. Match.com here I come!

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