|my sister and i on thanksgiving.|
So I completely neglected Thanksgiving. Not like in real life. But like I haven’t told you all about it. It was probably a lot like yours. I went home. I went to local bars the night before. I saw everyone I have ever seen in my whole life. All crowded in to one place. This place being my favorite Chinese takeout restaurant in downtown Napa that let a bunch of rowdy kids take over their dining room and continued to sell us beer far longer than they probably should have. The next day, I had dinner with my family. A delicious dinner, thanks to my dad. Only one person stormed away from the table and I think only two people cried. Basically, a total success.
I thought about doing some cheesy post about all of the things I was thankful for, but I decided against it. Honestly, I was over it. And I was being a brat. Like, you know when you don’t like someone, and suddenly everything they do annoys the shit out of you? That was me. Except it wasn’t somebody, but everything. I was super mad I had to fly back to Los Angeles early the next morning. I hated my new haircut. Seriously hated. I was frustrated I had to give up my bed for houseguests. Guests that happened to be my aunt and uncle. Anyone who has had family stay for an extended amount of time should instantly feel sorry for me. Right? And yes, four days count as an extended amount of time. It’s nearly an eternity. It felt like it, at least. I wanted to stomp up and down after my downstairs neighbors complained I live like I’m in a dorm room. Umm rude. And I had some choice words for the woman who snaked the last spot in a packed coffee house parking lot. Basically, a lot of bullshit.
Seriously on one, I headed to Goodwill the other day in search of costume materials for a rather creative holiday party. Out of habit, I asked the man behind the register ringing up my old levi’s how he was doing. He responded with fine, and asked me the same. I smirked and said it was early, that I couldn’t complain yet. He looked at me and said, I bet you could. Everyone can complain. It’s whether or not you choose to. And I instantly felt like an asshole. Ironically standing in Goodwill. Hating my awful bangs. And feeling like a total asshole. So remember when I said I opted out of doing a super cheesy post about how thankful I am and blah blah blah? Yeah, I guess I totally lied. Because I guess everyone goes through bullshit. But that’s all it is. And we can complain about it. Or not. So maybe I should stop complaining. And swearing, for that matter. Sorry, Mom.