Randy makes it so easy to talk shit about him. Bless his heart. He lobs softballs to me every day. I totally appreciate these softballs, because every time I worry about running out of things to write about, he acts all Randy-like and I have blog material that practically writes itself.
Right this second, for instance. It’s not what he’s saying, it’s what he chose to watch on Amazon. He’s watching Corpse Grinders. Remember that scene in Pulp Fiction where Jules is talking about not getting hamburgers because his girlfriend is a vegetarian? “My girlfriend’s a vegetarian which pretty much makes me a vegetarian.”
You have to read the next sentence in that voice. Randy’s watching Corpse Grinders which pretty much means I’m watching Corpse Grinders.
He tried to explain the plot to me.
Randy: Okay, so they made this cat food and it was really popular and they ran out of meat, so they started digging up corpses and grinding them into cat food. Then, cats ate the food, develop a taste for human flesh, and start eating people.
Me: I’m going to take a shower.
But I really digress.
I am not looking at the TV. I can just hear it. Screeching cats, screaming women, and really lame tension music. And the bed is shaking because Randy is laughing really hard. Silly ass motherfucker.
Mostly, though, he’s a sweetie pie. He does try to help me feel better.
This summer is kicking my ass. The cluster headaches I usually only get in the dead of winter have been fucking with me all summer. I have one now, so I am typing with one eye closed.
My work related stress has been relentless. I have to upgrade software that is crucial to the entire business. In three states. I am not comfortable with this upgrade. I am not sure of some things that have to happen. This project has been looming for a year and now it’s rushing at me faster than the time it takes me to come up with an excuse to get out of a social event. Hopefully, the first phase will be done and over with by the end of the month. Then, the really scary phase is next, but honestly, I just want to get over this first hurdle. I can’t possibly worry about both.
So, Randy has had to live with anxiety Michelle for most of the summer.
He knows talking me out of it isn’t an option, and honestly if he tried, we would both end up butthurt. So he makes me laugh as much as he can and makes thoughtful gestures to try to help me get a handle on my shit.
One of those gestures was to buy me these Guatemalan worry dolls.
The story is, you tell your worries to the doll, sleep with doll under your pillow, and the doll takes your worries away.
They don’t really work.
It’s a nice thought, though. I mean, other than it’s kind of creepy to think of a tiny little doll squirming around under my pillow and fucking with the thoughts in my head.
For all that is fucking holy, the dialogue in this movie is embarrassing. “Stop meddling in my affairs” and “I’m sure Willie is fine Tessie. You know how winos are.”
Although, to be fair to the worry dolls, I haven’t been doing it right. Randy got me a bag of worry dolls. I gave some away to the other women in my office and I taped a doll to my work monitor.
Holy shit, you guys, I’m a monster. That poor doll just wants to cart off the worries in my brain and I have her captive and bound by tape.
Now, I am not sure what I should do. Should I free her from her prison and bring her home? What if I do that and she’s really pissed about her captivity? I might wake up in the middle of the night with a tiny little dagger shoved into my eardrum. Or even worse, what if she meets up with her worry doll sisters and takes other people’s worries from her sisters and shoves them into my head? I’m telling you, there is no room.
Pretty sure if anyone can turn a Guatemalan worry doll into a homicidal maniac, it’s me.
I will risk it with my doll. I will release her from her prison and tell her my worries and then squish her under my pillow.
Maybe it will work. You don’t know.
Oh, and sorry about the Corpse Grinder spoilers.