Yesterday was Thanksgiving. We had a turkey and the mashed potatoes three people and a dog have given their lives just to sniff. They are the best potatoes ever, though they have a crust.
No family except for immediate family, and the rest of the table was made up of family friends, many of whom came from the Bay Area to celebrate. The problem was that the family from the north have 4 kids, three of them male, and I had to get up early and go play goddamn football with them, because it was thanksgiving and every holiday for as far back as I can remember I have been the designated sports accomodater when our visitors want to play baseball, basketball, whatever. This is my parents revenge for my giving up sports in junior high.
It was good to get some excersize, even if that meant making my lungs feel like they were burning. We went to a local schoolground and took the dog, who I ran around for a bit and then tied up to a tree. Apparently I didn't run him around enough because the bastard chewed through the line three times. He's never done that before. Each time, we'd be getting ready to snap, and I'd look over, and the dog would be whining and moaning, and we'd do the play and we'd go to snap again and suddenly the dog is ambling down the field, his head down, but with a big shit-eating grin on his face, like now he's going to get to play football. We had to put him in the car.
Later I was forced to play basketball and later than that was forced to watch Finding Nemo, again, over X2, because one of the boys is a little boy and him mom a protective, protective mom. How protective? None of her kids, including the ones in high school, had even heard of Dr. Kevorkian.
If anyone else is interested in the world's greatest videogame music mixed CD, please send me your address and I will send you one free of charge. Hurry while I still have money.
Note to Brits: In America, "football" is how you spell "rugby" if you're a giant pussy.
No family except for immediate family, and the rest of the table was made up of family friends, many of whom came from the Bay Area to celebrate. The problem was that the family from the north have 4 kids, three of them male, and I had to get up early and go play goddamn football with them, because it was thanksgiving and every holiday for as far back as I can remember I have been the designated sports accomodater when our visitors want to play baseball, basketball, whatever. This is my parents revenge for my giving up sports in junior high.
It was good to get some excersize, even if that meant making my lungs feel like they were burning. We went to a local schoolground and took the dog, who I ran around for a bit and then tied up to a tree. Apparently I didn't run him around enough because the bastard chewed through the line three times. He's never done that before. Each time, we'd be getting ready to snap, and I'd look over, and the dog would be whining and moaning, and we'd do the play and we'd go to snap again and suddenly the dog is ambling down the field, his head down, but with a big shit-eating grin on his face, like now he's going to get to play football. We had to put him in the car.
Later I was forced to play basketball and later than that was forced to watch Finding Nemo, again, over X2, because one of the boys is a little boy and him mom a protective, protective mom. How protective? None of her kids, including the ones in high school, had even heard of Dr. Kevorkian.
If anyone else is interested in the world's greatest videogame music mixed CD, please send me your address and I will send you one free of charge. Hurry while I still have money.
Note to Brits: In America, "football" is how you spell "rugby" if you're a giant pussy.