I wasn't spawned from a computer, just raised by one.

Monday, November 24, 2008


I really should be working on my sketch for tomorrow's class, but in a last ditch effort to procrastinate I've been surfing the blog world. I'll undoubtedly end up polishing it off over reruns of Fraiser, The Golden Girls, and The Nanny far into the wee hours of the morning. In the mean time I'll write here.

It's been an odd couple days. On a high note I spent an amicable day with my mom surfing the isles of my hometown’s Seafood Festival. Where I bought part of what will become my niece’s birthday/Christmas present pack extravaganza (I’d post what it is, but I don’t want her to happen across this and ruin the surprise), approximately 20 new books for about 8 bucks, a crab cake burger, a super cool ring that’s shaped like a bird taking flight, and some very pretty bracelets.

On an extremely low note I lost one of my little girls, Penelope. For those of you who don't know, i.e. everyone, Penelope was a very sickly hairless rat, and despite the fact that she had stopped growing in size months ago and that her weight fluctuated constantly I was still sort of blindsighted. She's been sick pretty much the entire time that I had her so I guess I just figured she'd continue to pull through. She was always very active and so affectionate. She will be missed. I just wish that I had taken some pictures of her.

I can't believe this year is almost over. It doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving to me. It’s weird. I remember when I was a kid, there was always this big to do, unorthodox sure, but it was a big deal. All the relatives would come to my parent’s restaurant, which would have closed after the last of the afternoon coffee drinkers filed out, and we would set up this huge buffet in the back with all this amazing food and we’d spread out all across the dining room, and Uncle Albert would say grace and we’d all eat Aunt Shirley’s cherry cheesecake and lather absolutely everything in my Dad’s special ham sauce.

This year we’re going to a restaurant. Just me and the ‘rents. Enough said.

As God is my witness someday, my family, I’ll have a Thanksgiving that would make the most desperate of the housewives blush with shame. I’ll even let people watch football if they must. The perfect stereotypical holiday will be mine I say!

Okay, so it’ll never happen, but I’m damn sure going to buy myself a can of cranberry sauce even if I won’t have anything to put it on this year.

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