Well, maybe you don't need to go to jail to have a happy Thanksgiving, but I was feeling quite Mr. Potterish today, as the GD season of peace and love creeps into my butt.
I'm not anti-Thanksgiving. But I ain't thankful for anything this year. Not a blessed thing. I blame God, and he doesn't even celebrate Fat Thursday. So you go your way, and I'll go mine, and you celebrate F-sgiving in your way and I'll in mine.
The little bit of relatives who say they love me have escaped Norfolk for regions south and north, just so I can't get there. So I'll be alone tomorrow, sleep till 12, eat a twinkie for breakfast, and then I'll have my own little feast, here, in my apartment across from the gas station.
I'll start with a can of gravy. I'll pour it over (at room temperature) a turkey sandwich from 7/11, have a Diet Coke and go to sleep.
Fuck your football too.
If I sound sad or harsh, it's because I've had it with so called friends and relatives who "love" you (I love you...kiss kiss) that I wanna throw a fat Turkey sandwich (with potato chips) down the gullet of one or more of them and see how they feel about F-sgiving.
So enjoy the day. And buy some of that shit on Friday.
I love to see people waste their money.