It’s freezing out. I mean, it’s literally 29 degrees, and not only was everyone here but me begging to go out, now they’re refusing to come in. What gives? They’re out there naked, having a great time.
Yesterday it wasn’t much warmer, and Lily was on one of the yard chairs. What are those really called? It isn’t called a yard chair. I’m on one of those anti-seizure medications for migraines again (it’s working) and you know how I get when I’m on those. I can’t always think of words, necessarily. Anyway, she was on one of those outdoor chairs. Is that what they’re called? I have the top cushions folded down on top of the bottom cushions now, so she was on the double cushions like the princess and the pea, and she looked hunchy and cold to me. So I made an executive decision and picked her up to bring her inside.
And do you know when I picked her up, she felt absolutely warm? The combination of the sun, being close to the house, her fur, and being 100% body fat must have worked in her favor. She acquiesced to being moved indoors, of course, because she’s Lily and acquiesces to anything.
So, maybe being naked yet fur-covered is just fantastic and I’m missing out or something. Anyway no one will come in and if you ask me it seems awful and I’m happy to be inside where I have been since February.
Last night I DID attend a party. Virtually.
In college, I had this friend who I will very creatively call — No, wait, I do need a fake name for her. Hang on; let me go to the name generator and give her a name.
…In college, I had this friend named, yeah, Tricia Holloway. She had enormous bosoms. No, really, you have no idea. At the time there was this very fancy store called the Corset Shoppe, and I’d never set foot in there, but Tricia Holloway had to go there to get her FFF bras. You see now why I had to make up a name for her?
We worked together at not one but two places: a real place, where we worked at the PR offices of our college, and also at this family restaurant that served cocktails. We had pink-and-orange-striped uniforms. For the restaurant job, not the PR job.
I remember Tricia really hated the word “jizz” and who can blame her, so my boyfriend at the time came in, ordered me a girly drink for after my shift and said, “Put a little jizz of whipped cream on top” just to bug her.
Eventually, Tricia and I moved in together, because what’s better than living together after working two jobs together. We moved into this really cute apartment that was a house split up. We had the downstairs and these two guys who worked at the newspaper lived upstairs. They were a decent duo who sometimes came down and killed bugs for us.
That apartment had a fireplace and a porch swing and a built-in table in the kitchen. Man it was cute. We even had a little garden out back.
Anyway, time moved on and she moved away for some full-time job in another city and I had to get a new roommate and now here we are. Not that I’m still in that apartment with that second roommate watching 90210. That would be sad.
It really was a cute apartment though. It wouldn’t be all bad. It had a basement. I think we even had a washer and dryer. I remember Tricia, who was more practical than me and that narrows it down, looking at the laundry hookups and asking, “Is it a gas?” and I said, “Well, it’s FUN, but I don’t know if it’s a gas.”
No one likes me.
Anyway, I do have a point, here.
You know how you make Facebook friends with someone and then you never see them again? She and I made Facebook friends in aught 10 or something and I never saw one update or anything from her after that. So I don’t know if I purposely went over to her page or Facebook just finally decided to show me her, but I saw recently that she is dealing with stupid-ass chemo, and call me Sherlock but then I surmised she has cancer.
The very last thing I want to do is bug someone who has cancer. I mean, I don’t want to pepper them with questions or god forbid tell them about a juice mix that will help or what have you. But I did start leaving comments on her posts and just generally reminding her of my existence. Soon we were joking around and picking back up where we left off.
I don’t even know what kind of cancer it is, or I didn’t till last night.
“Hey, I’m selling SeneGence,” she wrote me. “Would you be irked if I invited you to my page?” she asked.
I get invited to about 50 of those pages a minute, but of course I wasn’t gonna be bugged if my friend with cancer, who I spent many years giggling with, invited me to her SeneGence page. Who named that product anyway? It sounds like a product name I’d have made up back when I played house.
Anyway, occasionally she’d have sales or announcements or what have you but I’d always forget to look, but yesterday she said she was going live in the evening. Fortunately, this time I remembered to go see her live.
I say fortunately because first of all, it was just good to see my old friend again. She of course had on a purple bandana—I forgot she was one of those purple people. Not literally. But have you ever noticed that people who like purple really, really get into liking purple? You don’t find someone who likes brown having everything brown, but purple people really get into it.
Anyway, there she was. And I forget that I actually like some people. She is one of them. She said hello to me when I logged on, which sort of made me feel like the Kim Kardashian of the event. Yes, yes, I’m here. It’s a worthwhile even now, pay me my $40,000.
But here’s the part that got me. Tricia said she wanted to go live not to talk about her products, but just to thank us. She said she just wanted to feel like a person again. She just wanted to have a reason to get up in the morning, to not wake up just feeling like the cancer patient. And that’s why she started selling these products. It gave her something to concentrate on other than cancer.
Oh my god, it killed me. It was just so graceful and lovely. I remembered all the reasons why I liked her, and why I’d forgiven her for filling up our back room with 47 cases of Clearly Canadian when we lived together.
She’s just such a good person. She always has been. I just hope she’s going to get through all this as quickly and as painlessly as possible. Also, Ima go ahead and buy her damn Genesis or Sensodyne or whatever it’s called.
I think that’s the first time I ever had a spiritual experience attending an MLM party.