November 28
Well, good lord. Long time no see! Sorry about that, and sorry about the entry I'm subjecting you to, here. It's rambly and not too cohesive. Like me!
Also! It's that time of year! Want a festive holiday card from me? From Turdmonster? From Johnny Shutup (that would be a trick, hey?) Want to send me one? Drop me some mail!
First Things First:The thing I am most thankful for about my long weekend (besides being off for a bunch of days, obviously) is that on Saturday, we (we=Nick, me, our nephew Dustin) took a ride to New Jersey to go to the Japanese mall. Not because I needed anything, but really more because I was overdue for a visit. I'll get the earth shaking part of the journey (and my weekend) out of the way first: I paid $1.06 for gas. On Wednesday, I'd thought I was the shit because I paid $1.19 in Connecticut (which really is cheap, people. This is Connecticut!), but great jumping jesus! A buck SIX!! Further down the road, we saw a sign promising a dollar FIVE, but it was one of those speculative looking stations, so I splurged for the extra penny. Truth be told, I didn't actually NEED too much gas, I just wanted to know what it was like to pay that little. It was like getting something for free. Sweet! I am retarded, it's a fact.
Thanksgiving:
I didn't ever tell the story of the turkey, did I? Heh, okay. Like three weeks ago, Angelo calls me up and tells me that he and Eleanor are getting a FREE TURKEY from the Ghetto Supermarket they frequent, because they've spent like a jillion grandparent dollars there in the year plus they've lived in Connecticut. He goes on and on about the wonderfulness of the turkey they will pass on to me, and he reports that he is planning on getting us a nice...(this is the important part)...TWENTY POUND BIRD. Right. Twenty pounds of turkey for 5 people. Do the math. His reasoning behind this? Well, it's clear. Come on, you all should know. If it's free, get MORE, this way you're getting MORE free!! I pointed out, to no avail, that I typically cook about a 13 pound bird and the additional 7 pounds might just make for a bit too much food. "DANE!" he replied, "Just feed it to the DOGS!!"
Though the idea of my dogs digestive systems after eating 7 pounds of freshly cooked turkey was interesting to consider, I told him that it was still too much bird. Long story short, he was undeterred by my insistence that 20 pounds was too much, and informed me he'd be dropping it off THAT WEEKEND. Like, three weeks early. I bargained him away from three weeks to two, and vowed that my mother would be the one to dissuade him from arriving at my doorstep 3 weeks before the actual date with a 50 pound turkey we'd unquestionably have to keep somewhere else. Do YOU have room for a gigantic bird in your freezer? That's what I thought. Neither do we.
In the end, he was talked down to 14 pounds and it was delivered 5 days ahead of time, which gave us enough time to swap refrigerators (heh, another long and utterly pointless story, so I'll spare you) and stand about in silent jubilation, watching our holiday meal thaw. Good times, my friends. Good times.
I have been incredibly lucky about Thanksgiving dinner. I'm not sure how many of you are designated chef for the day, but it's not an easy thing to pull off. Nay, it is a honking pain in the ass. You all may recall what happened last year, after my mother attempted to pick up a cast iron skillet fresh from an hour in the oven (or you may not. It wasn't such a big deal, heh).
Oh, wait. I didn't have anything really to say about last year's even, other than nothing bad happened this year. Everything I cooked was perfect. I made the dreaded 4 loaves of cranberry bread, all perfect. That's right, bitches, I am a queen, and we're STILL eating leftover turkey.
Are There Songs About New Jersey?
The journey to Jersey was fairly unremarkable, save for a few things:
1.) Hanging from the George Washington bridge was perhaps the largest flag known to man. Seriously. People were having to slam on their breaks as to not hit the people around them--everyone was staring up at the thing. It made me feel all patriotic and cool inside. Couple that with the fact that if you look in the area of downtown, that which used to be there is no longer, it was both creepy and cool. Speaking of:
2.) Driving towards the mall, we were treated to the sight several soldiers guarding the foot of the bridge, with guns. If I was a Gun Person, I might know what kind they were, but I've no idea. They were mighty. And it bugged us all out a little.
3.) Dustin's first wasabi. Aww...
4.) Across the street from Ikea (which is across the street from Newark Airport, if the highway can be considered a street, which I suppose it CAN be, if you're me. In any case, being across from Newark is cool because of my airplane obsession) is a place called, uh, Rexplexx or something. It's one of those indoor skate parks, with a few lame lame video games and some sad looking kids at their birthday parties. The best thing about it were the two virtual reality rides. Dustin and I saddled up into the MONSTER TRUCK, were strapped in, and the next thing I know, the whole ride is upside down. It was supposed to be. It was, by far, the strangest thing I've ever done with a nephew. We both laughed so hard, I squirted pee. I can not vouch for the state of HIS underwear. That would just be weird.
5.) The night after Thanksgiving, Nick and I were in bed watching television. On came a show about the history of fast food in America. Of course, you can not have a show about fast food, and not talk about my favorite, the ever lovely White Castle. Now, White Castle had been on the brain for both of us for a week or so, since we'd decided to go to Ikea, et al, because there is no such animal here in CT. So! Right there, in front of us, on the glowing screen! White Castle! Tiny meaty goodness! Oniony and small! We vowed that we would go the next day.
Well, the next day, after we did all the stuff we were doing (heh, and this his how stupid I am: I made us listen to "License to Ill" all the way there, because they talk about White Castle so often) and got back onto the highway, where we discussed the best strategy for finding a Castle without actually knowing where one was (I only know where they are in Brooklyn, alas). "We will use the power of our hunger. It will lead us in the right direction!" and by god, that worked. Well, that and some directions from the guy at the $1.06 gas station. In my defense, I knew enough to be in the right neighborhood, and with our sack of 20 cheeseburgers and 4 fries and onion rings, off we drove, happy as 3 people sucking down nasty ass burgers in a pickup truck on a rainy saturday night in New Jersey can be. Which is pretty damn happy. God bless you, White Castle.
6.) Another reason I adore the Japanese: there is a product designed specifically to wash women's underwear soiled by menstrual blood. Yep. If a guy cuts himself, oh, say, uh, trimming the lawn (if you know what I mean, and I THINK YOU DO), and bleeds all over his boxers? Not the product for him. I have no idea whether or not there IS such a thing, and I have absolutely no idea whether or not men's underwear might, say, implode upon contact with the women's blood soap. It's entirely possible. Of course I bought that shit, it cracked me right up.
7.) Uh, I'm reaching now, I kind of ran out at 6.
8.) I find myself creepily obsessed with planes taking off and landing. If I lived near an airport, I'd be one of those weird people with the super long camera lens, taking photos as they flew overhead, and being all "Look! Did you see?! It was US8403!!! She's a beaut, isn't she?!" Part of the obsession really IS creepy, because I'm always saying in the back of my head "Man, I wonder if I'm far enough away to dodge burning wreckage if that thing explodes", which most definitely falls under the part of my brain filed "Creepy and horrible things I find secretly fascinating!" Seeing as how I've told you all about it, it's no longer a secret, eh?
9.) No, there's no 9.
10.) Nope. There's not a 10 either.