Don't Stare at Me

Today a man stared at me. I looked at him while he was looking at me but I turned away when I saw he was looking at me. Then I looked back a few seconds later, assuming he had turned his head, but he hadn't. He was still looking at me. This made me quite uncomfortable. I had worn a fair amount of makeup, so I knew I looked my best. My hat had the perfect amount of feathers in it and my dress was well past my knees. I could not think of another reasons why this man was staring at me.

I then thought that perhaps my hair was tangled. So I discreetly brushed my hair with my fingers. When I looked up the man was still staring at me. I started to feel very hot. Perhaps this man meant to murder me, or worse, take me sexually. Or even worse, stare at me even longer.

Perhaps I should leave the bus? That is what I thought to myself. But I can't get off the bus, there won't be another bus for fifteen minutes. And I don't want to stand on the corner alone. Whenever a lady is alone there are certain presumptions about the lady. I generally try and stand with others if at all possible. When it is not possible I pretend to talk on the phone. I do not believe in mobile phones of course, so I fold a piece of paper in four and pretend it is a phone. It looks quite real.

As my panic began to bubble inside me the man finally got off the bus. I realized after he pulled out a walking stick device that he was blind. I wish blind people would shut their eyes or wear sunglasses. The whole ordeal was quite unnerving.

I ate a hamburger today

I ate a hamburger today. I didn't want to, but the man I am seeing - Saul - he insisted. I enjoyed it but I spit it out even so. I didn't want Saul to know how much I liked hamburgers. Because I do. I really do. I eat them when I am sad. And when I am not as sad. Sometimes I put cheese on them, and when I have no cheese I put chips on them. Not American chips. French chips. Or English.

I am full from my hamburger. Not the one with Saul. I spit that one out. I ate two at home and I put cheese on both of them. I will have nightmares tonight. Meat makes me have nightmares. But the nightmares remind me of how fragile life is and they make me realize that if my life could end at any moment, I might as well enjoy the company of Saul, who is very boring. But it is better than being lonely before you die.

Casinos - not the Indian kind

I went to a Casino tonight. And not the Indian kind. American Indians...not the kind with the dots on their heads. The kind who wear headdresses and invented Thanksgiving. Not the kind who make naan and hummus, the kind who live on reservations and drink too much. The kind that will give you a pay day loan. Not the kind that use a lot of curry in their food and where dresses they call apologies. The kind who dance half-naked in front of fires and drink peyote...or eat it? What is peyote? I know what alcohol is and I know what happens when you drink too much of it. Ha ha...so do Indians! Not the Indians that answer phones for AT&T. The kind that cry when their land is stolen and have a bunch of tribes that are all named after Casinos.

So I went to a casino! Not the Indian kind. The kind that the state owns to help give money to black children. Is Casino capitalized? Sometimes I want to capitalize it and sometimes I don't. I am not a writer, so I don't know every word that is supposed to be capitalized. I mean, it isn't as if there is some kind of rule. You just have to memorize the words that need to be capitalized. And that is a lot of work for someone like me. Not that I am afraid of a lot of work. I just don't like it or want to do it. It's not like a spider that I jump away from. It just isn't something I want to do. Carole has to work. I don't think anyone has to work if they don't want to. But she says she does because she wants attention. Carole always wants attention. I mean, who doesn't I suppose. But Carole is boring and her work is boring and her shoes are boring. She likes brown shows. I like pink shoes. Most of my pink shoes have bows on them but some have diamonds on them. The diamonds are fake but sometimes I lie and say they are real. I like the attention.

Bad Things Happening to Good People

Why do bad things happen to good people? Bad things seem to happen to me all the time and I don't think I deserve it. Yesterday I fell down. I fell down in front of an ice cream parlor and everyone was staring at me. I saw one woman pointing. I find pointing to be extremely distasteful. Obviously her friend can see me. It did not seem necessary to point. Everyone was already looking in my direction. And I know they thought it was because I had eaten too much ice cream. But in fact I had not eaten any ice cream. I only go to the parlor to eat the waffle cones dipped in chocolate. I eat three at the store and take three home to eat in private. I much prefer to eat in private. It really isn't that enjoyable for me to eat in public but the waffle cones are too delicious for me to wait. So I sit facing a corner and try not to make a scene.

I also recently gained 15 pounds. I do not understand because I am very strict with my diet. And to top it all off I was talking to Carole and she made me feel like I did not do enough community service. Apparently Carole reads to children every Saturday. I think it is very suspicious to read to children. No one would want to read to children unless they had some kind of sneaky motive. The books that children read are very simple. A man rides a train. A couple of farm animals go on an adventure. I am not a simpleton. One dimensional stories do not excite me like they do Carole. That's why I much prefer the movies. Reading is for people who cannot afford the movies. And children do not like the movies, so I can't be bothered to spend time with them. But irregardless of my position she made me feel quite selfish. I am now searching for a way to make myself feel like I am giving back. Although no one really gave me much, except Humphrey when he died. But that was earned income as far as I am concerned. Giving back does not feel necessary. But perhaps it will stifle this string of bad luck.

Crazy Drivers

I hate driving. I think only lunatics drive. I hate taking the bus also. I stay at home much of the time. A have a friend, Carole, who drives. But she makes me so nervous when she is behind the wheel. Sometimes she screams at other drivers and shakes her fist. And then she is upset for hours and hours and can't stop talking about the other driver. And I tell her, I say "Carole, don't let it ruin your day." But she does let it ruin her day. And then, to be honest, it ruins my day. Because I hate listening to Carole talk. She is one of those friends that you like because she is always around. She never has any place to be so she is very accessible. However, hearing her blather on about her kids, and her divorce, and other people's driving. Sometimes it isn't worth it. I think I have a lot of interesting stories. I have a lot of felines and they are always doing something funny. The other day I put a hat on one and then a hat on another one and then I took a picture of them.

I like to draw my cats. I think I am a pretty good drawer. You don't see many drawings of cats these days. Cat drawings were very popular when I was growing up. I used to be so jealous of my friends who had cat drawings in their house. They were always so fancy. I was pretty fancy, but not cat drawing fancy. The minute I could pick up a pencil I was drawing birds. You can't go straight to drawing cats. It is a skill you must acquire. Birds are the first step to mastering cat drawings. First birds, then dogs, then squirrels, then fish, then elephants, back to birds, then different birds, then planes, then people, then houses, then teddy bears, and then and only then cats. I skipped a few steps so my whiskers are never straight. If I could do it again I would have gone through the proper steps. As it stands now I can't display my cat drawings.

Hipsters. What are they?

I keep hearing the word 'hipster' a lot. What are hipsters? Why do they wear so much flannel and over sized glasses? I have observed these young flannel wearers when I venture out for coffee. I usually like to stay in and make my own coffee. I have a very expensive french cafe press and the coffee tastes very good from it. I don't know how to use it. I have to call Carole over to make it. But she does a good job at it, and I think she likes feeling useful. She hasn't felt as useful since the divorce. She doesn't work, so she has no reason to really ever feel useful. I never feel useful and I am quite happy.

In my day we called these type of youngsters 'draft dodgers' or 'gays.' But now they are called hipsters. I suppose it is because they wear their pants so tight you can see their hips. I wore a pair of tight pants once and I received a lot of unwanted attention. People told me to "change my pants" and they said things like "don't wear your pants so tight." I didn't like all the attention so I didn't wear tight pants again. Although it was nice to meet new people. Humphrey always said that "A new friend was like a new girdle. You can't squeeze your fatass in one, so don't bother." He said it a lot. I am really glad he's dead.

My woe with toe nails

Why do toe nails exist? What do they do? I don't believe that God would make something on the body to be purely decorative, except breasts of course. But toe nails seem to really only be good for painting.