11/28/2003 - 1:44 a.m. | argh!

You know your day is starting off on the right foot when you turn the TV on and "I Married MC Hammer" is on VH1. They did not answer the crucial question, though, of whether or not he told his wife what she was permitted to touch. Anyway, what am I thankful for? I am thankful for a six hour of marathon of "My Life as a Teenage Robot," which I now have safely stored on VHS. I am also thankful that my blanket smells like my cologne. Enough of that.

After showering and whatever other primping I require to get into a state where I can show my face in public and face only slight humiliation, we got on the road to Tina's. I resisted the urge that we were entering Cherry as we were, uh, doing so. Tina's apartment is totally adorable. She's really "Trading Spaces"-ed it up, so it's all bright and happy and cute. I want a loft. Normally, I really don't like holidays too much because I am, you know, a bad person and don't really enjoy my extended family too much (because I am supposed to, you see... because we share DNA - I like to choose my friends, thank you), but this was probably my favorite of all 19 Thanksgivings so far. I felt so much more relaxed (although I do not rule out alcohol, tryptophan, or antidepressants in this case). Meanwhile, my mom is on this tireless crusade to make me realize I am cute or some shit so then maybe I will have the confidence to ask girls on dates or something. Points for effort, Mom.

So, I dunno how the subject came up, but Tina started talking about how eclectic her music was (amongst other things - it is amazing the amount of information one becomes privy to when you get old enough) and started talking about this record she had by a German band. Well, obviously, there's only one German band anyone knows - Kraftwerk - so I suggested that. "Oh no," she said. "A different one no one has heard of." So, she digs though her albums for a long time, and my dad and I keep giving her crap about it being Kraftwerk (although by this point, I am putting on my terrible German accent and calling them "Kraftverkinshteinschleifenspiegel"), and she just keeps denying. Finally, she stumbles on the album she means. Fucking Kraftwerk. So she puts it on. Nothing says Thanksgiving like Kraftwerk. Weird ass German synth shit. Yum. Makes me hungry just thinking about it.

Dinner was very good - simpler than usual, which I think is a good thing. Yams confound me. Pumpkin pie debate continues: I like the taste, but the texture makes me want to cut my face off. Then I pass out on the couch for an hour while both my parents get smelly farts >:O We bullshit a while longer and then wrestle the coats away from Tina's cat, who is a terrible, mean bitch. Much like all cats. But yeah - she acts all friendly, but that's just to trick you. Then she turns all crazy, and if you try to pet or touch her, she wigs out and hisses and claws. On the plus side, I had no idea Tina was such a Cat Person, which I wouldn't have guessed at all. Of course, I am a heartless monster and make no attachment to animals. Although EAT (the betta fish) has been alive and kicking upstairs for over 2 years now, so I sort of love him. I guess.

Over screams of agony regarding my parents farts, I called Justin so we could meet in Ottawa. Although a common person would not know this, I think this is the first time in like 5 years that I've actually called him up and asked him to do something. And while it is still not easy, he said he was glad I did because he would've been stuck with NBC sitcoms. Positive reinforcement.

So, we picked the perfect time to get to the movie theatre so that absolutely nothing would be playing for two hours. To kill some time, we decided to drive up to Morris and see what they had at their theatre. Did that shit, but there was still lots of time remaining, so we drove around aimlessly - actually, scratch that. We had an aim! I was looking for Petey's Cantina, which - if you knew anything about me (you don't) - has been a lifetime goal. Justin and our families and I drove past it when I was in 8th grade, and we both thought it was hilarious as all hell and seriously wanted to go there (incidentally, it's this little hole-in-the-wall Mexican shitbox). So, in accordance with my cognitive methods, I remember every damn thing about it and stored the information to be brought up at random intervals (like when Dank ended up there senior year). So, we found it ("The sign changed" - My memory is scary), and it was closed. STILL need to eat there, God damn it.

Speaking of memories, a Stray Cats song came on the radio today, which reminded me of the time my dad and I danced together to it at my uncle's house. I was like 4, and he picked me up and we sort of slow danced in our awkward, white guy method. Of course, he recalls nothing of this.

So, with almost an hour to kill, we went to R Place (not to be confused with "Our Place," which just sounds gay) - this truckstop and more or less the only thing open. We tried our hand at the various shooting video games there - I played this one called "Warzaids," which is not a fucking word, God damn it. It was like war, but you shot walking skeletons because shooting people is wrong. Right. Then this little kid came up and started talking to us about how he couldn't get past the second level in it. I love little kids.

So, we sat down next to this table filled with giant fat people. Genetics in action. All of them together weighed as much as a car, I'm sure. And the one in the wheelchair (the fattest - or queen, if you must) ended up buying a pie and some cupcakes on the way out! Christ, try and fight the flames back, you monster! Anyway, Justin decided that the waitress was totally flirting with me, except she was a total nerd. Why do I always get the winners? This did not stop me from checking out her calves. Or your calves, for that matter. That's the nice part about having a fetish. For me, it's like you're running around without a shirt off. *leer*

Continuing my streak of getting conflicting items at these types of places, I got apple juice and a banana split. Justin opted for "Elf Fries" (Merry Christmas, everyone! Sprinkle some Kraft parmesean on some fries and it's a winter freaking wonderland!). Anyway, the banana split was the biggest I've ever seen. 2 bananas, at least, 6 or 7 scoops of ice cream, three kinds of toppings, whipped cream, and fucking stupid nuts because I forgot to order without them. A daunting task really - I got stares from the emo chick (Yes, I am aware that she could've been staring at me, but note how I am realistic?), and actually I thought I would have no chance at making a dent at it, but I guess I was in a fightin' mood. I ate the whole damn thing. I rule. If eating stuff somehow becomes the deciding factor in who or who not rules.

This all took a lot longer than we planned on, so our complicated decision process sort of went out the window and we'd just see whatever was still playing. Past "Over 21 Books" (I looked in the window, and they're right - there are at least 22) and running in. Bad Santa started at 9:15. *tear* No Billy Bob for us. What doesn't make sense to me is how some people think he is hot. Cute, in a grizzled sort of way, I can understand that. Not hot. But - it sort of makes sense then. If I cannot judge who or who not should be attractive correctly, how I could I ever make sense of it enough to decide how I should look. Right on. (And before you start trying to get on my side with, "Yeah - he's gross! How'd he manage to get a woman like Angelina Jolie?", just stop right there because she is much, much worse than he is. Stupid big lips) My point? Ah, yes. I was getting to that. We went to see Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World starring John "Gladiator" Nash, either Merry or Pippin the Hobbit (I forget which), Charles Darwin, and my favorite - "HOLD FAST," named as such because he had those words tattooed on his knuckles and would show them to people a lot. Also, he had a quarter in his brain, and he said crazy stuff from the Bible. HOLD FAST. Not particularly my type of movie, but it would be fun to be a sailor. I'd just have to stop being such a giant ovary. Speaking of, we were the only people in the theatre. Boy, does that feel queer. If it were like a guy and a girl, they could go to town (*hums some Alanis*), but with us... just strange.

At some point there, my stomach decided that I had more than enough to eat and began to kick in a little ass bulimia. See, I have this theory about my tummy. It will allow me to store only as much energy as I am going to use. So, at school, when I bike and walk around everywhere, I need more energy and therefore can eat more without 'sploding. However, here - with no way to get any decent exercise and eating a lot more than should be expected for someone my size - we have a problem. There goes that entire banana split. $6 down the toilet. Yes, literally. So, Mom, this is what happens when I try to fatten up. Bad things.

On the way out from our movie, we followed out this old guy who had just seen The Missing and was hassling this couple who had been in there as well. "WHAT DID HE SAY AT THE END?" "--" "OH! HE SAID FOR THEM TO LEAVE?" "--" "OH YEAH BECAUSE HE KNOW THE INDIAN WORD FOR LEAVE AND THEN SHE SAID LOOK AT ALL THE BODIES AND THEN THAT WORD FOR LEAVE" "--" "YEAH I DIDN'T HEAR THAT PART" "--" "YEAH THE PART WHERE HE SAID LEAVE AND THE THING ABOUT THE BODIES I DIDN'T HEAR THAT" "--" "YEAH I MUST HAVE MISSED IT WHEN HE SAID THAT" Probably because you were screaming the whole time, you lunatic. Sort of makes me wish we had gone to his movie. OK, now I must sleep because I told my mom to wake me up whenever tomorrow, and she might actually try and hold me to that.