Oh Internets, How I Have Missed Ye!

I apologize to my five loyal readers for my unexpected hiatus.


Shortly before heading out for the Thanksgiving holiday my Dell experienced its 17th meltdown in the form of the death of the screen and motherboard. Keep in mind that I am now on my second hard drive, second keyboard, and third screen for this little bastard. When the Dell guy came to install all the new hardware, he said "You've had so much replaced, I don't know why they don't just give you a new computer."

Exactly Dell-man. Exactly.

My computer is now a sort of Frankenstein's monster, the only original parts now being the bottom exterior case, and the interchangeable disk/CD drives. However, they do send a Dell guy to your house to fix it, so that's pretty badass. In this case, the Dell-man trekked out to my parent's place in NC to fix my monster. Alas, though it was repaired there are no internets at the NC house, and so it just lay there, sadly, unused, on the dining room table.

So how was everyone's Thanksgiving? Mine came with a fresh supply on North Carolina crazy. On the day of, there was much talk of gallbladder surgery, with the boast by one person of having had so many gallstones that the surgery was broadcast on that surgery channel.

Other highlights? At one point I was chastising my sister for not getting the digits of a guy she was working with (he quit!) who is on this season's Project Runway. As I am obsessed with Project Runway, I intended to hunt him down, make him be my friend, and come to a Project Runway themed party. My sister gazed at me with contempt and said "I am the honey, they are the bees - theycome to me....Besides, I don't need friends, I have beer."

Then at breakfast on Sunday we were rushing to get my sister to the airport (a painful, never ending, hour and a half away) five of us were crammed into a booth. I gallantly suggested that I would sit at the crap seat on the end of the booth. There was so much stuff on the table I had my plate shoved in sideways, with part hanging off the table. At one point as I was trying to cut something, everything shifted, the plate tipped over the edge of the table, launching my biscuit and other assorted breakfast items into the air and over my shoulder. Waitresses came rushing to make sure I was ok - but I'm not quite sure what that meant. Ok as in I'm not having a seizure? OK as in I'm now covered with food, should we mop you down? In either case, I've decided to call getting mad "flippin' my biscuits".

Feel free to use it.


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