saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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You can't tell me that Thanksgiving and hummers don't go together.
So. Much. Snow.
Oh, no. Nonono. You don�t understand. No, you don�t.
SNOW. Snooooooooow. Fucking snow, even.
For most of the Thanksgiving weekend, I attempted to stay indoors. I needed no excuse, really, since I am honing my skills at becoming a vegetable, permanently attached to my computer and/or a school textbook here and there.
I did go to the club with Rewind on Friday � an experience that is really beyond words what with the falling off of chairs and French DJs and misunderstandings and stress and near wetting of pants and the Knave (good moley, saints preserve us, not THE KNAVE!) and the windshield not defogging and accidentally leaving the radio on the station playing Limp Bizkit somehow invoking an SUV chock full of drunk, belligerent frat boys next to us at a stop light, frantically honking and screaming incoherently to get our attention.
Ahem. Beyond words, see?
But the snow�I just want, with every fiber of my being, to avoid snow. Funny how that is, considering where I live, and I�m perfectly willing to admit it was a bad choice on my part. But that doesn�t give the Angry Snow Beast any right to wait until I emerge from my cozy hibernation and then, before I even take three steps out into my yard, peer-pressure the trees into dumping his foul white shit on my head and down the neck of my coat. Nasty bully, that Angry Snow Beast. Didn�t get enough love as a child.
Erikson would be appalled.
Pbthhhhth. Snow.
By the way, everything is wrong right now. I know. I�m in it, too. Every aspect and facet of my life right now is teeming with stress. It has reached out and infected all of you as well.
And I think I might be the cause of it.
See, it�s not 2001 that�s to blame. Everything started going down at the onset of my 27th year. This means, unfortunately, that we are not out of the woods once the clock ticks over to 12:01 am on January 1, 2002. Sorry, kids. It�s not over until next June.
Brace yourselves.
Okay, I need to leave this entry on a high note:
(Setting: Breakfast in a cozy diner. A group of six friends and relations sits around a table, discussing a game that some of them had played the night before.)
Rewind (to George and Big Sabu): Oh, hey�we have to play that humming game again before you fly out on Sunday.
George: Humming game?
Big Sabu: You know, the game we played last night where if you draw a particular card you have to hum a tune and the others have to guess what it is?
George: Oh. Right.
Jim: I thought you said �hummer game.�
Rewind: Oh, yeah. Right. Hey, everyone, let�s play that hummer game.
George (looking around as everyone at the table laughs): I was thinking, �What an interesting family. They want to play the hummer game.�
(More mild laughter.)
George (deadpan): I�ll win.
(Vulturebait chokes on his coffee.)
Ah, George. Like Rewind said: Welcome to the family.
12:47 p.m. - 2001-11-27
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