I’m still reeling from the news of poopah chalupa’s death.
My hair is filthy.
I burned my tongue at Thanksgiving dinner, and I have yet to regain the use of the taste buds in its center.
I brought home a Ton O’ Crap[sup]TM[/sup] from my parents’ house, and I’ve unpacked less than half of it.
I really, really need to de-hair my legs.
I gave my mom one of my stories to read, and I’m now wondering if that was a good idea. I hope she doesn’t chortle and say, “Ha ha, that girl is you, isn’t she? Because she has big boobs!” Also, I used a cousin’s name for a walk-on character, and I just know she’ll want to know why that is. No real reason, just that I have to get my names where I can get them, and he has a mellifluous name. Letting your mom read your stuff is like letting her see you in a swimsuit. It can’t not be embarrassing. Oh, and the mom is her, in one of her good moods. Paging Dr. Freud…
I showed Mr. Rilch my HS graduation photo, and he didn’t like it. Said he, “The Molly Ringwald look didn’t suit you.” Well, excuse the f*** out of me. Short hair worked for me at the time. My mom wanted me to have a mullet, and the only way to assert myself follicularly was to keep it short. Also, I thought he would pick up on what I like about the photo (and I like it a lot): the fact that I’m not looking at the camera. I thought it was very sophisticated, and still do. Does this mean I really was unattractive back then? I wish I could scan it and get feedback from the Teeming Millions.
I can’t believe chalupa’s gone. I really didn’t know him, but it still diminishes me.
My dad has developed palsy in his hands.
And we never did watch the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special, of which I brought the DVD. Three times I suggested it, and three times, six people agreed, but we never watched it. So much for tradition. I mean, I knew Planes, Trains and Automobiles was out of the question, but jeez, a 25-minute show…?