When I first decided to write about Thanksgiving, I figured I'd just write about the year that I got maced by my brother. Long story short, my mom used to carry mace. One Thanksgiving morning, my brother Billy sprayed it into the central heating duct, getting it all over everything, including me. The first thing you do when you wake up is rub your eyes and use the bathroom, so I got mace all up in my eyes and dick. Just awesome.
Then maybe I thought about writing about how miserable I was for every Thanksgiving, and how I hate my family and how we always fight and the fact that every occasion is marred by arguments and that the only thing I ever enjoyed doing with anyone in my family was playing cribbage with my grandfather for hours on end.
This led to my hatred of holidays. They really just make me sick, straight through to the core. The anticipation of the fights and the passive-aggressive shittiness. I just dread the final sixth of the year.
I'm just not in the mood to write about that anymore, though. I'm pretty happy. I just had a really amazing Thanksgiving. The first one ever, really. Fellow WWWriter Katie McMahon came over and made sweet potatoes and a green bean casserole. I cooked chicken (which I'm usually pretty afraid of – I still hate cooking meat, despite not being a vegetarian for a few years now). I watched football and did all kinds of Thanksgivingy stuff. I even ate some pie. Look at that. Pie.
What I'm saying is nothing bad happened. I enjoyed a holiday. Insane, right? Yeah. It really was. A few topics ago, I wrote about how, no matter how much you love your friends, your family is your family and they can never be replaced – whether you hate them or not. I still believe that. My mom is still an awful woman who has never and will never cook. My aunts are still miserable. I'll never get those years of loathing back, and that's fine. I'm just thankful to have had one good one.
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Hello writers. I'm thankful for you. Have I said that lately? It's true, y'know. I'm not one for being maudlin, but there's nothing I enjoy more than all of you.
Do me a favor, everyone. Send in some essays. I literally have nothing this week. NOTHING. From anyone. I blame one Nathaniel Hoyt for coming up with a subject that nobody wanted to write about. JERK. Nah, he's fine. Whatever. Just send me an essay. Could be about anything. Just write something. Send it in. Hopefully it's good?
Listen, next Friday is lies and lying. Send in essays, you liars. Please. PLEASE.
Please.
Grosses bises,
Josh Grimmer, Editor-in-Chief.
Josh Grimmer lives in North Hollywood with his wife and cat. He kinda sorta runs this blog, and has another one at http://mousebed.blogspot.com. Twitter him up at http://twitter.com/JoshGrimmer
Sorry, Josh. I lag. I will get on it. Did you get the poem that I sent you last week?
ReplyDeleteI did get it, but I didn't see it in time because I'm a dunce. I'll run it this week for "y'know, whatever" week.
ReplyDeleteOk, thanks!!!
ReplyDelete