I'm Thankful For My Ipod And That I Don't Have An Elephant On My Porch

There is a minor bit of drama afoot in my life this week. I'm a little miffed at my mother. We will not be attending Thanksgiving dinner at her house today. Why? Because she doesn't have room for us. Well, I should re-phrase this. She technically does, but if the four of us were to come for dinner, then she would have to seat us on the porch. And to seat us on the porch, she would have to clean the porch. It's so full of my step-dad's useless stupid SHIT, that to clean it out would be a major project. Over time the problem does not get better, it only gets worse because they run out of space to put the crap, so porches and attics and hallways and corners develop mounds and piles. She was hoping to just keep the curtains closed and the door shut so nobody else in the family would ever have to see it because she is so embarrassed.

That's fine. I can understand this. But the fact that she has put up with this freak for 25 years is what bothers me. It's easier for her to tell her daughter and grandchildren not to come for dinner than deal with the proverbial elephant in the room. Or should I say elephant on the porch. She feels like there is nothing she can do. Well, Yes She Can. She can do lots of things. But she actually told me that she would like her children to intervene instead of herself.(!) Here's my intervention: A Ryder Truck. As many people as I can find to clear out the crap and take it to the dump. If I took it all to the Goodwill, or tried to sell it on Ebay (which would take years to do. YEARS.) then I would be contributing to somebody else's problem. Like a good crack dealer, who doesn't sample the product, they're just doing it because selling crack makes good business sense. But this doesn't make it right. It's REPREHENSIBLE. I'm only speaking about the Ryder Truck idea because it's wishful thinking. Sigh.

So, we're going to my boyfriend's grandmas's house for dinner. Thank God she had room, eh?

Book I'm Reading This Week: Fargo Rock City by Chuck Klosterman. This is a FANTASTIC book. I was hoping it was a memoir about his childhood in a rural community in South Dakota and his love of metal music. It is, kinda but it's more a discourse and history of 80's hair metal. It's a long opinion piece about these bands and their wayward stars. Reading about all this is of course taking me back to childhood, but in a good way. It's making me remember the fun stuff in high school and college, and not the bad, depressing shit. Perhaps the most fascinating portion of the book was when he talked about his drinking habits. Specifically how that relates to his love of metal. And I never thought of it that way, but he has a point. I think there is a direct correlation. When you're sixteen and out partying, what's funner, drinking to George Michael or The Cure or drinking to Van Halen or Motley Crue? He is unabashedly unapologetic about his alcohol consumption, even to this day. I'm still a big drinker. How did it start for me? Well, I hung out with kids who listened to metal and drank a lot. I've written about this before on here, but I feel like apologizing for it, even tho I have no intention of stopping because I love it so much. Klosterman doesn't do that. And unfortunatly, that makes me love him even more. It probably has something to do with the fact that he is from a small rural area in the midwest too!

Best Movie I Saw: Borat. We had no kids last Saturday and we went to the movies. Well, first we went out to eat and we had a few drinks. Then we laughed our asses off at this movie. The whole time I was wondering what was real and what was staged. After reading an article on salon.com I learned that most of it was real. And surprisingly, some of the unsuspecting victims of Sacsha Baron Cohen's pranks weren't all that offended and thought the end result was even funny. But some of them are suing too. They're the ones who don't have a sense of humor. Like the frat boys on the RV. They were drunk and they were acting just like a group of drunken frat boys act and Borat showed their asses to the world, so they are suing. I hope they don't win this lawsuit. They knew they were being filmed, and they were stupid enough to act like that on camera, even if they didn't have a clue where the finished product would end up. I have no sympathy whatsoever. If Borat approached me, I would play along. Definetly.

Current Sewing Project: My ugly pants didn't even garner one stinkin bid on Ebay. So, my daughter is wearing them now instead. I started a coat made of faux black fur. I think it'll be nice when I finish it.

Top News Story: O.J. Why didn't this asshole just shrivel up and DIE and dissappear off the face of the earth ten years ago? O.J. wrote a book tentatively titled "If I Did It". IF I did it. How 'bout WHY I DID IT? That's a book I'd read. To me, that would be a book that would be more credible. IF I did it... Sheesh WHAT A FUCKIN DIRTBAG! Supposedly, the Fox News Network, (which by the way, I have never been able to stomach for more than five minutes at a time, I only watch it if some stupid moron at work has it turned on in the break room) had planned a televised special with an exclusive interview with O.J. to tout the release of this book. They were immediately hit with a wave of criticism from just about everybody and ultimately pulled the plug on the interview and the book. Oh damn. I don't get to read "If I Did It". Boo Fuckin Hoo! But Bill Maher cracked me up last week when he raised his hand and said "I'll watch it!" Which if I think about it, I might have too, but only because I HATE FUCKIN O.J. SIMPSON AND WOULD WANT TO SEE HIM LOOK LIKE THE STUPID FUCKIN DIRTBAG ASSHOLE MORON HE TRULY IS! It's a universal need isn't it? To feel a proud wave of self-righteousness wash over you. Watching an O.J. interview about a book entitled If I Did It would fulfill that need for millions of people quite nicely.

So, today is Thanksgiving. Oh sure, I'm thankful for lots of shit. The obvious things like my family (yawn... hee hee hee) and that I have a job (double yawn), but how bout I mention a trivial little inconsequential thing, too before I go? Like, I'm thankful for my Ipod. It is my favorite material possession. When I have a day off and I'm drinking, I listen to some great tunes and I don't think about any depressing shit for about an hour. Yes, I said it. Chuck Klosterman gave me permission to be honest about this. So next Wednesday when I pour the wine, before I take the first sip, I'll dial in a kick ass metal tune from the 80's on the Ipod, and give a silent toast to Chuck.