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November 27, 2003

Thanks, But No Thanks

While the rest of my family is enjoying heaping platters of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato pie, green beans, and honey ham, I am currently feasting over a small plate of hash brown patties and a newly harvested can of Campbell's soup.

I hate being sick on Thanksgiving.

My family didn't seem too upset when they drove off without me this morning, prepped for the three hour drive to our (Great) Aunt Lois' feast in the Middle of Nowheres-Ville. They just hopped in the car and pulled out the driveway without a second thought about me; sitting home alone with a runny nose and a voice hoarser than Harvey Feinstein's. There was no time to have pity on my poor soul, especially since they all had thoughts of pies and cakes and sugary sweets on their minds. I didn't stand a chance.

To be fair, I've been sick since the tail end of Saturday--which is why I haven't written any new entries this week. I've either come down with another bout of strep throat (Most likely), or a sinus infection.

Yippee.

But the fact that I'm saying grace over a pair of hash browns is still depressing. I'm missing Thanksgiving--one of the only times of the year where it's okay to sit back and absolutely gourge yourself silly without any guilt. Of course, once you've eaten your weight in stuffing, all the blood that rushes from your head and to your bulging stomach gives you a zombie-like appearance, but it's all good. I'm sure that's what Squanto and the Pilgrims meant for us to do.

All this time spent by myself has been good, though. I've (barely) gotten started on the first of not one, not two, but three huge-assed essays that Professor Ha assigned us. Half of that heavy workload is due to my uber procrastination, but the rest is made up of the minimum nine page essay final she passed out yesterday. What the heck is wrong with this woman? Does it look like I have the time to sit here and peck out at least nine pages of crazy stuff in a little over a week? Nu-uh. I could understand all the heavy workload if this were an advanced level class, but it's only a 200 level literature course. With all the stuff we're doing, you'd think this were some introductory graduate level class. Sheesh.

I guess I'm also glad I didn't go because it gave me an escape from watching my jerk-face father act ridiculously fake and stupidly charming in front of all his relatives. It drives me crazy; watching him put on this weird "face" for everyone else, when deep down I know what kind of a liar he is. I know it, and he knows I know it. So we end up playing this messed up game of fakeness around the relatives throughout the day, which makes me want to scream. Most of this is just a result my strange repulsion of my father--I can hardly stand to be around him more than five minutes. And if I find myself holding a conversation with him, I feel disgusted.

And speaking of disgusting....

After watching bits and pieces of this year's Macy's parade, I managed to stumble upon a rerun of Martin Bashir's interview with Michael Jackson on VH1. I remembered how last year, I watched the whole thing with fascination... And now it's just plain sad. I don't get any joy from watching crazy stuff like that. The weird thing is, that the kid who's currently charging Mike of child molestation is actually in the video. I heard it on the radio a few days ago, and found out for myself that it was true. When I watched it last year, they showed the faces of the kid and his brother and sister, but this time, they've blurred it all out; and even beeped out the names of the kids. If the lawyer's for this kid are supposed to be so hush-hush, why are they even showing this stuff on TV? Who's really supposed to be protecting this kid?

Ehhh, everything's so messed up.

Today's Soundtrack: "My Own Best Friend," Beyoncé

Best Part of the Day: Breaking Thanksgiving turkey tradition in favor of a frozen chicken pot pie. Now that's rebellious.

PS: Joanna, take it one day at a time. One day at a time.

posted at 5:51 p.m.

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