re-make/re-model
This post is, in part, about the perils of Biggie the Blanket. Since his Karen Relationship, he's become increasingly erratic, & he should finish with his woman 'cause she can't help him with his mind: she's ruined his life, & he should be taking addictive experimental antidepressants instead of all the herbs. As soon as Dave met Karen, his personality began to change: he became lazy -- he stopped taking care of his apartments -- & paranoid: "The government is wiretapping our phones". Part of his paranoia is doctors: "They don't do anything for you, & they just give you a big bill". The Invisible Hospital tried to kill Mother & the Electric Hospital deliberately killed Uncle Bill by performing an unnecessary bypass. Ever since the dread Blanket-man met Karen, he's been sick with some kind of respiratory problem, for which he takes echinacea -- which a massive study just showed is worthless (a study that is, no doubt, a conspiracy on the part of the drug companies). So after summer came rolling around & he got out of town, he went to visit Fearless Taco once, & was dragged into an ER throwing up blood. They measured his blood-sugar as sky high, but he's not doing anything about it since "that doctor didn't know what he was doing".
Knowing full well that if I called him, he'd shout at me, I eventually decided to call anyway. All I knew was that he'd bought a house in a town of 900 people with no clear plans as to what he'd do in the future. John had given me his cell, & I got Karen when I Kalled; Biggie was in the shower -- at 10:45, his time. She took down our number & had him call back on their regular phone -- first sign of paranoia, he refused to give out his number as it's "unlisted & we like to keep it that way". I told him that Trish has her license & is now working at Pizza Hut, then asked exactly what it is he thinks he's doing out there -- according to Taco, for awhile they were going to buy a computer & Karen would illustrate children's books & then for awhile they were going to raise shih tsus -- a laughable plan; Precious was so fat because of her diet of table scraps. He became angry & said, "We're remodeling". When I asked what else, he yelled, "remodeling is a full time job". I asked once more what he was planning to do once he was done remodeling, & he yelled, "Why are you so damn concerned about our own fucking money?" -- or maybe it was "fucking concerned" & "damn money", whatever the case, there was a damn & a fucking in there.
I'm just worried that he has no practical plans. He thinks the money he got from selling his property -- which Mother basically just gave him -- will last indefinitely, & you can't make a living selling fat dogs. It's also predictable that the skinny dog he married will divorce him as soon as the money runs out, & then he'll become suicidal. But there's nothing I can do. I tried to tell the family that Blanket-man had it bad before he left town, & he's reached the point now, with his paranoia of doctors, that he's not going to consult a psychiatrist until he's dragged forcibly into a hospital.
Knowing full well that if I called him, he'd shout at me, I eventually decided to call anyway. All I knew was that he'd bought a house in a town of 900 people with no clear plans as to what he'd do in the future. John had given me his cell, & I got Karen when I Kalled; Biggie was in the shower -- at 10:45, his time. She took down our number & had him call back on their regular phone -- first sign of paranoia, he refused to give out his number as it's "unlisted & we like to keep it that way". I told him that Trish has her license & is now working at Pizza Hut, then asked exactly what it is he thinks he's doing out there -- according to Taco, for awhile they were going to buy a computer & Karen would illustrate children's books & then for awhile they were going to raise shih tsus -- a laughable plan; Precious was so fat because of her diet of table scraps. He became angry & said, "We're remodeling". When I asked what else, he yelled, "remodeling is a full time job". I asked once more what he was planning to do once he was done remodeling, & he yelled, "Why are you so damn concerned about our own fucking money?" -- or maybe it was "fucking concerned" & "damn money", whatever the case, there was a damn & a fucking in there.
I'm just worried that he has no practical plans. He thinks the money he got from selling his property -- which Mother basically just gave him -- will last indefinitely, & you can't make a living selling fat dogs. It's also predictable that the skinny dog he married will divorce him as soon as the money runs out, & then he'll become suicidal. But there's nothing I can do. I tried to tell the family that Blanket-man had it bad before he left town, & he's reached the point now, with his paranoia of doctors, that he's not going to consult a psychiatrist until he's dragged forcibly into a hospital.
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