17:26 - 2003-12-01
Happy Spanksgiving
Well, I think I might have been a bit out of it last night, maybe even a tad feverish in some ways or others. I spent a good amount of time alternating between Solitaire and long, ponderous gazes at the ceiling, while the radio droned.
Not to say any of this was particularly unpleasant, I can't be sure, but I know this morning was...
I had one dream that spanned the entire night, I know because I woke up throughout it, almost every three hours, and it just picked right back up as soon as I nodded off.
So I went to school, for some reason that I don't remember, and then came home. School makes me think about unimportant things, while stimulating absolutely no thought in other essential areas...I'm not sure if I walk fast because people seem stupid or if people seem stupid because I walk fast.
The weekend was nice though.
My sister and I played a videogame where I get to beat up and sing about Stupid Little Monsters (to the Seven Little Monsters theme song by Bare Baked Ladies).
It was Lil Doodoo's idea to rent Castlevania, but she came and got me to play it after it started scaring her.
It's a good game with castles and gothique tapestries, everything is just lovely until the zombies start barfing at you.
So I thwarted revolting villains and put that famous Devo number to some appropriate use, singing "Whip it good!" (In Castlevania, you fight with a whip)
My willing-handed Irish-bag-stuffing friend talked with me until 2 AM. Thank goodness, too...My weekend was riddled with the longing that my phone would ring and I'd get to talk to one of my friends. It sounds unreasonable that I didn't just call them, but to truth I felt too pathetic to do so, to pick up an object and make an effort to fix my mood.
It was comforting and kind just to be on the other end of a phone, even if no one was saying much. The farther away you are from the Bad World, the better things are.
Plus, I think I was tired enough to be entertaining.
Now that I'm back in the world of Dad, stuff seems shinier and more appreciatable. And also a bit surreal, considering all the changes the house has undergone. Particularly the bathroom.
Ever since my dad utilized the Two Thousand Flushes, there has been uncertainty as to whether someone has peed in our toilet or made Kool-Aid in it. I brought this problem up to my dad. He responded, "Well, play it safe and don't drink any of it."
Reserch project begins maņana, and I got CAPITAL PUNISHMENT! Aww, and that's great because it's JUST WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED!
Oh yeah, and checka dis:
Friend: We'd have to fill you with helium and tie you to our wrists with string.
Me: Hmm, or I'd fly away into the sky. I'm liking this idea. *plans not to eat anymore* Floating in the air is a fine alternative to being full and queasy.
I'm beginning to think this is all we talk about.
This entry was supposed to include something...What was it...Wasn't something really fundamental...?
Eh, maybe I'll remember it later.
Anyway, my mom got a turkey--
Oh yeah, that's what I was forgetting! The drama! The suspense! The romance!
Um, perhaps that last one's kind of a stretch.
Anyway, my mom's turkey choices were a bit hasty, and our turkey ended up needed a few more days in stasis before it would be fit to eat. So Ma decided to take us to Luby's, which is one of the horrible places you know you'll talk about in the future when the world is a better place.
Imagine a school cafeteria, only instead of snotty, rude, arrogant kids there are SENIOR CITIZENS in ridiculous quantities! Everywhere! And they brought their snotty, arrogant kids!
Basically, this is where you go when you're too poor or unprepared to cough up a Thanksgiving dinner. Or when the younger generations forget you and the retirement home doesn't want you to sink into despair. So everybody packs in close, like one big, stinky, lonely, hungry family, and they stand in line for several hours, like a big, stinky family in a line for a boring, stinky ride at Six Flags. And then these illiterate non-english speaking people behind a buffet give you your choice of various steaming greasy items that you will be expected to eat.
I'll skip ahead, past the gagging and the vomiting and the Revolution to the part where I was told, contrary to prior belief, that I could cook after all!
Given little recipe cards, I managed to make nice looking entrees, that my family enjoyed eating.
Plus I speak English and can read.
This is quite a revelation to me, and it makes things much more agreeable for my future plans of excluding my broken (but much beloved faimly) from my holiday plans.
My dad waits forfor Ron to call back. I sit and hope that they invite us down to visit. Or that I do grow hollow, deflate, and recquire my friends to inflate me with gas and send me on a little adventure in the atmosphere.
Till then, I assalt my teacher's eyes with recipes for Calves' Brains.
Muahahahaha!
