2004-11-16 - 8:03 p.m.

So yeah. Then there's that. I'm back again for a rather short mission. Princess Placenta was just out shopping for roughly the last 47 hours, so no, I feel not the wee bittiest of guilt in coming back to the darkened den of broken toys and brokener dreams to write an entry.

I hate having a time limit on writing for this. Ah, so goes the price of not being able to afford internet for the home - for a variety of reasons. I have mentioned this, no? I'm quite sure I have.

Today is a host of people's birthdays. Jeff, Lesley "Lady L" Culkin, and of course, Dwight Gooden. Ben and I still haven't heard from Jeff since pre-Halloween, and I'm somewhat surprised that we haven't heard from him or Amy concerning some sort of get together for his birthday. Although, maybe that's a good thing, as my drunken antics seem to multiply threefold whenever Jeff's birthday is involved. Jambone's birthday was last Friday and I'm sure he partied down in San Diego. Well, probably not. But writing about the truth - Jimbo sitting in a dimly lit basement with his thumb in a pie and single tear rolling down his cheek - doesn't quite sound as fun.

We're doing a little "Welcome Back to the Granite State TC & Jackie, even though, technically, Jackie was never here to begin with" soiree at my mom's this Friday. I know, it's a long title for a soiree, but when my mom gets a chance to make a banner, she wants it to be as long as possible. I wish I could have told more people about it. Not that it's a secret, but we could only have so many people. It should be fun though.

Also, my gratitude goes out to all of you who decided to jump on the LOST train. It's a damn good show, no? You people should listen to me more often. And those of you still not watching it because there's something of much higher quality on - say, Laguna Beach, for example - well, your loss. {"Don't you judge me! Don't you dare judge me!" - Kate} This Wednesday is Sayid's backstory and next week is Claire's. Comics AND Lost every Wednesday?!?! Insanity.

Yeah. So I touched on Thanksgiving briefly in the last entry. Peter, Titie, Alex, Aly, Sarah, Kenichi, and me. What a time it shall be. My mother is letting us borrow the Bayou Classic. What's a Bayou Classic you ask? Only the rootinest tootinest turkey fryer you varmits have ever seen! Ok, it's not much to look at, but it'll flash fry a turkey in seconds! Ok, it won't flash fry a turkey in seconds, but it does grant wishes. And you so know I'm gonna wish for invisibilty, NewsRadio DVDs, and Maura Tierney playing Kid Icarus on my couch. And you can decide if that's a euphamism if you want. Honestly, I can't decide if it's sexier if it's taken at face value or not. So yeah - Thanksgiving will make for interesting fun times.

The Piranha of Turkey Fryers

Also, I've fallen off the puppet wagon. It's sad, but oh-so-true. I had decided when we all lost our jobs that I was going to wash my hands of all this marionette OCD. Ha, ha - "wash my hands" - pun intended. But now that we have SANTA marionettes, their siren song has grown so loud that I would have to be far more stout-hearted in order to turn their evil wooden pleas a continued deaf ear. God, I feel like I'm IM-ing with Hannah. I usually make this little sense when at least one overseas Eldridge is involved.

Ok. I must remove myself from this internetting fun we call Stuff & Things for yet another evening. Peace out y'all. And don't let the moth balls hit you on your front side.

I think there's a gas leak at work.

It's been real,

Guitaro

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