Moose in the Kitchen

The funeral was lovely. We stuffed the deceased with cornbread and brined it in booze. I should mention that my use of “we” is somewhat misleading, as all I did was nap and demand more hot chocolate. I also played Scrabble with my mom, something I enjoy because she lets me get away with words like gapey.

Probably because she still kicks my ass, even when I cheat. This would be disheartening but I’m made of sterner stuff and therefore accept my lot and take solace in the fact that I make damn good cheddar scallion biscuits and am also a prize-winning napper. (I think the prize was getting to pass high school econ, a class I slept through.) (I would also stroll in to government class half an hour late with a rather blatant cup of coffee in my hand. I’m not sure why they let me get away with such delinquent antics, but let me they did.) (I look all wholesome and innocent. This helps.) (I could never get a tattoo because it would blow my cover.)

I do have a thing for extraneous parentheses, don’t I? I’d go back and edit them out, but a Welsh guitarist from Match.com claimed to be rather smitten with my quirky punctuation and WHO AM I TO DISAPPOINT THE WELSH GUITARIST?

Um, does anyone else ever go to their Twitter feeds to figure out what they’ve done recently? I just had to go check. Apparently the turkey is a brain cell immolator, as well as a derriere fattener. Since last we spoke, I’ve seen New Moon (Metalia’s rap was much better than the movie, not to mention $11 cheaper, and Metalia’s lip gloss is always perfect, unlike Mr. Ardently Lip-Stained Pattinson), pondered the existential quandary of where all the people go the night before Thanksgiving because they certainly aren’t in downtown San Francisco, and drove to Half Moon Bay to get my coif tended and drink more coffee than is necessary or advisable. I didn’t have to check Twitter for that last one, it just happened yesterday so I remembered all on my own. Yes, thanks; I am proud.

I also spent a lot of time organizing the apps on my iPhone, something that came in handy yesterday when I decided that I wanted to write a blog post, but didn’t want to get out from under the covers to do it. So I wrote this entire post by tapping at the wobbly little screen with sleep-expanded fingers:

Driving to Thanksgiving dinner, I was rattling around in the backseat of my brother’s Honda with a pile of errant sprinkles and what appeared to be an upended container of instant oatmeal. Floating serenely atop this pile of edible debris was the gray hat I knitted him for Christmas last year. I pointed it out and he replied, “Yeah, I planted that because I knew it would make you happy.”

It was so endearing I had to forgive him for joining mom’s Let’s Kick Amber’s Ass at Scrabble Consistently and Without Mercy mission.

Related posts:

1. More Cookie Porn
2. I’ve Never Seen So Much Pissed Off Beef
3. Day of the Dead
4. He Didn’t, By the Way
5. I Bet the Pilgrims Liked Drama