ardent bullshit comes down every faultline gushing heavily into jest kindly luscious melons nodding openly post quakes resting still to undermind various wonderous xylophones yawning zealously

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Goal of the Week


To not chew off my fingernails. I know, sounds simple. Sounds easy. But for a perpetual grow-them-out-until-they're-long-and-then-bite-them type of person, this is hell. Well, maybe not hell, since that's more of like a place where there's trick ice cream (i.e. non-fat iced lactose-intolerant hydrogenated nonmilk) & you have to listen to Michael Bolton & Nicolette Sheridan album on repeat. But you get what I'm getting at.

I figured that last night would be the demise of the nails, peeling 15 lbs of potatoes & all, but nope. Last night we had about 10 people over for a Thanksgiving among close friends and I learned that fried chicken can, in fact, be really good.

So did Georgie & Henry. Bastards.

We cooked lots of food & had pie & fresh-baked cookies & fried chicken & potatoes & stuffing & salad & green beans. And then we decorated the tree & did interpretive dance to the Rad soundtrack.

Send me an angel.

And I remembered how awesome Nick is (as if I could ever forget). But that's not the point. I can't chew my nails off because next weekend is a big deal. Schmale's getting married. Can you believe it? I can but still remember walking to high school together every morning, cheerleading practices & getting late night phone calls in college about whatever problem had come about at 3 a.m.

If you see an enormous red boob & hip conglomeration walking down the street, it's probably me. I'm fronting as a killer tomato.

But really, it's a superformal event & really, I have to say that the dresses aren't bad. And some really important Catholic guy's doing the ceremony. So fingernails are important. And so are manners. That means that I'll have to FCC myself like I did during radio shows. ***damnit.

Regardless of the formality now, I'm still holding her to our plan to sit in a backyard & smoke pot out of corncob bowls as grannies, giving our assortment of grandkids candy.

Okay, time to give Tiffany's more money. Buy stock now, it's about to go up.

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