Gobble, Gobble, Hey - 11.28.02 - 11:54 pm
Look!

I fucking hate Thanksgiving. I should be drunk right now and crying over construction paper turkeys. Or at least smashing some gourds. I should be drunk and I'm not and I'm not going to be because I just took some sleeping pills and I'm not an idiot.

At dinner, we all had our own glass of wine to lessen the shock of actually sitting at the same table at the same time and even possibly having a conversation, and my mom kinda winced when I downed the glass in one gulp.

And then she did the exact same thing.

I fucking hate wine, too. Makes my head ache. And my chest.

Oh, and I totally fucked up my cranberry bread. I don't know what the hell I did, but that has to be the most disgusting thing I have ever put in my mouth. And I've been known to eat things that shouldn't be eaten for money. Mere nickels, even.

Anyway, this depresses me. Since nobody reading this has known me for seven years, the depression caused by this mishap may seem a little odd. Well, a long time ago I did a 4H project on quick breads and cranberry bread was my bread of choice. I must have made fifty loaves of that stuff before the 4H year ended. I knew my goddamn cranberry bread, OK?

Of course, I was pretty sick of it and hadn't considered making it again until tonight. I had forgotten the recipe and couldn't find a copy anywhere, so I tried my damndest to remember the specifics. I thought I had it down pretty well, but obviously something went horribly, horribly wrong because that sure as hell ain't cranberry bread.

On a more happy (or creepy...I can't be sure anymore) note, yesterday one of the library aides came up to me and said, "Was your super secret boyfriend here yesterday?"

I said I don't think so, why?

Oh, cuz there was a guy who asked me about you. I was wondering if that could have been him.

My embittered little raisin-like heart kinda went "hey!" and I asked for details.

Of course, it wasn't LBC. That would be too neat and I am not allowed neat. But it also wasn't a friend of mine i.e. he was "really nice and peaceful, almost. Not at all creepy."

Because you know the first question I asked after establishing that it was not LBC was "Oh, shit. Was he creepy?"

I am slightly curious. Mostly suspicious. So goes my life.

Anyway, I want to take a bath. I ache for reasons I do not know. In fact, right now it feels like someone is trying to separate my leg muscle from my shin bone by using salad tongs. It's nice.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

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