I Just Can’t…

It is not fair. People, mean people like support workers and my husband, keep asking me if I am working on my comedy project.

I can’t. The next stuff to do involves social media. And I can’t do social media. I’d have to be profound, finding a topic and acting serious forget it, accurate, aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh, or funny, and I can’t be funny, I have toothache. And I have too many people mad at me because I missed appointments and then ghosted on social media. Well not ghosting them exactly. I am avoiding emails and social media so I won’t feel guilty, or scared by reading the death threats. Okay so no one is sending me death threats, not any that I have seen. But they could be, and probably should be. I am really annoying, the fact that I have not received death threats by email or social media is a credit to a judicial system that has scared people out of written threats. Which is why I avoid answering the phone. Although you can record phone calls but I don’t know how. Wait, if you are reading this, I do know how and I record all calls and have the police on speed dial, which I also know how to use, even on my new (only had it a year or two) phone. Be warned.

I was going somewhere with this. Oh, I can’t be funny.

I can’t be funny because the world is sad and people are sad, and then I make a stupid joke and people are even sadder, but they can’t kill me because that would be wrong, on some higher spiritual level that we believe but don’t understand. Actually no, it would be wrong to kill me because then Gavin, who is after all a saint, would be left alone with the children. Shiver noise, the only things on Earth worse than me. Yes, you are. Shut up kids!

So killing me would be wrong and you want to because I made a stupid pointless joke when you were so sad. BTW I always make stupid, pointless jokes because that is my thing. So I don’t want to put people through that because even I am not that evil.

So, no joking. But then, when I am sad I like to read stupid pointless humour to, you know distance myself from the sad. So really I should be putting up more of my stuff. Evil, evil, evil, evil! Forget what I said before I am that evil. And yet not that sexy. I mean the least, the very least you can expect from evil is that alluring, sexy, bad girl vibe. At least until they surprise, surprise suddenly reveal they are really a ghastly old hag and your soul is now doomed for no reason. And I am pre revealed as a ghastly old hag, which was stupid because now your soul isn’t doomed. Which means I have failed again and I can’t have ice cream because I have toothache.

And then I get a notice from Facebook saying that someone has had a birthday, and I missed it. And then I realise, I have no idea who that person is, and then I feel guilty because I don’t know who the person is. And then I worry that it might be one of my kids (a pseudo name they told me about dozens of times that I forgot, and maybe I should reopen the emails to check. And then I realise that knowing for sure it was my child and that I had forgotten them I could never face them again. And then I try avoiding the children until my husband notices and complains.

And its probably just Ken (name changed for plausible deniability). Its always Ken on Facebook. Ken on Facebook and Lapse of Sanity on Email. That’s who they always are, But not always always. It could be a death threat from that psychologist I missed an appointment with. But in my defence, it was a zoom meeting, which is practically social media, Have I told you about me and social media?