Twitch

This.  Is.  Thursday.

I spent the morning at a Doctor's office who didn't want to see my twat.  (Is it weird that upon entering an eye Doctors office out of habit I undressed and spread eagle immediately?  Somehow he found that weird).  Okay, he might have not seen my nooners but due in equal parts to my dress, static cling and wind, much of Hollywood Blvd did.  Welcome, tourists!

My eye has been consistently twitching for three days now.  No, but seriously - constantly twitching.  In my sleep, even.  In case you missed it I've also had Thriller stuck in my head for going on 8 days.  I haven't quite figured out what the connection is, but there is one.  A few more days and the twitch may evolve into a full blown, out-of-my-control Thriller dance.

So I spent my morning trying to convince him with wild hand gestures and general dramatics that I was clearly suffering some sort of stroke, had a series of undetectable brain tumors and/or that given my brain's choice in musical accompaniment this was the last phase before I'm full on zombie.  He was unmoved.  Something about stress and taking a chill pill in the form of a vitamin.

I purchased a fan as I am at the mercy of an air conditioning repairman who has ordered a part, which, naturally, happens right on the cusp of a heatwave and as there's a giant raging fire east of where I live.  It was the last fan of it's kind, and a woman was about to grab it, but in the vein of Louis CK I gave my best 'I'm taking this fan home, that's what's happening next, you decide if we're going to be on the evening news' look.  Heat makes Stork's plumage and crazy eyes poof out.  I now own a fan.

But look!  A pretty view of Hollywood from the waiting room.

This evening I will be packing whilst watching The Office.  (Yes, I know..... it's been terrible since Steve Carell left.  But if your friend says "I'm about to die a slow, painful death" you do not say "oh, okay, peace out I'd like to remember you as you were".  In the spirit of loyalty you have to watch until the sad, final twitch).

Packing for what, you ask?

Stork is going away with her Mom for the weekend.

My Mom's birthday is May 4th.  My Dad died on her birthday (yes indeed) and it will be ten years ago this Saturday.

If you are in the mood for a wee bit of grief porn, I wrote all about it here.  (You know what I mean by that.. How many times have I watched the sad YouTube videos of women going through IVF with the inevitable Coldplay song on in the background?  Answer:  A million.  Some days it's a good idea to soak in the familiar pain of others, some days it's not.  I'll let you decide what kind of day you're having). 

Suffice it to say my Mom's not a super fan of her birthday anymore.  This year she rented a cabin to get away and announced to me "I can totally go on my own, you know, I'm a big girl".  Right, Mom, I want to be the asshole on Dateline crying and seizing as I explain why I didn't just go with you.

So I am looking forward to a weekend relaxing my eye twitch away with my Mom.  In air conditioning.  Not in 97 degree heat.  I feel sort of bad that Bubba will be stuck here, sweating, taking the dogs out in the heat and enjoying the use of my fan until I get back and rip it from his grubby little hands... but not too bad.  I'm sure he and the animals will enjoy a weekend of being hopped up on pizza and beer and watching space documentaries. 

Wishing you all a loverly weekend free of twitches, unavoidable 80s songs and bad weather.

And PS - check this shit out!  I am just... humbled and honored and definitely buying myself that smoking jacket and monocle.

And PPS - okay so I blogged about that asshat who wrote on huffpo about how awful it was going to be to have twins.  Apparently a dad of twins responded (thank you for pointing it out, S!) My eye already feels less wonky.

And PPSSSSSSS - Okay I blogged some major grievances about my half sister, Summer, who is a pregnant moron.

A recap for new people - I'm adopted, I've met this girl in person once, our relationship is limited to messages and texts. She just left her husband at five months pregnant on account of his not putting ultrasound pictures on his facebook page.  Ahh, mature love.

So now she appears to be on some creepy app whose sole purpose is to find and then casually hook up with strangers.  Like grindr for straight people and with less nipples. Mind you, half of the photos in her 'mom to be' album are all pictures of her boobs (I know what you're thinking.. "oh she must mean accentuated boobs when she's showing off her belly".  NOPE.  Just her boobs) so it's not altogether surprising that these are, in fact, being used as a hook up profile picture.

How do I know all of this, you ask?  Well, every time she looks at the profile of some skeezy guy on this skeezy app, it apparently broadcasts the activity and profile to all her facebook friends including me.  So, for example, on my facebook newsfeed there is a picture of some clown with no teeth and it reads "Summer is checking out the hook up profile of Skeezy McGee".

If there is a gawd in heaven I have to believe this is unbeknownst to her.  So.. do I tell her?  Or is it more polite to pretend like it's not happening? Subquestion... How exactly do I word this without sounding judgmental?  Because that will be a struggle. Also can't fathom how awkward it would be if she in fact knows and doesn't care.

Also, at what point in arranging a random hook up with a random stranger do you slip in that you're five months pregnant and five days separated? Is that covered in baby books?