Black Friday Indeed

*Editor's note: Sorry Kristy, I have already told you most of what is in this post, so you don't have to read this; but that will cut my readership in half. No pressure.

Hello all,

Picture it: Me face down in my bed, 9:30, or as I call it, dusk, and Mom walks in to get linens off of a rack in my room.

Mom: "Noah wake up. Dad needs help setting up the Christmas tree and someone's dog pooped downstairs."

Noah: "Was it your dog?"

"No."

"Was it Dad's dog?"

"No."

"Was it my dog?"

"Yes. Well anyways, someone needs to go and take care of it, I mean Dad already picked it up but SOMEBODY needs to get their dog under control."

"Do you need to get your dog under control?"

"No."

"Does Dad need to get his dog under control?"

"No."

"Are you talking about me?"

"Yes, and anyways it's 9:30!"

Omigod, everyday I claw at wallpapered walls whimpering, "No way out, no way out." I got out of bed and went into the living room and Dad said, "There's no use in taking him out. I took him outside and he took a dump and then I brought him inside and he took a dump again. He doesn't have anything left to dump."

I had been awake for 2 min. and Mom was providing evidence of how I am not related to her and I had heard "dump" 3 times. I could already tell it was not going to be a good day. I was supposed to go to the bar where I'm going to start working today for training. It's the Claddagh which sounds like an Irish STD to me. They were out of the legal papers needed to admit new employees, fired the manager who would be in charge of training me, and the other manager was on vacation. So, I hopped in my magical gasless car and wooshed home.

I'm not going to explain the agony that was my Thanksgiving at home, but I'll give you some bullet points

- The stuffing resembled a peppery broth jello.

-I was stuck hearing our entire family history (the uninteresting side) told bu my aunt who had various mayonnaise based salads all over her mouth.

-I had to run into town to get more yams and was in the wine isle of the grocery store looking longingly at every bottle for 10 min before returning home with only yams. Tear. Sober holidays are no one's friend.

- I played solitaire for 3 hours.

-As my super recluse, awkward uncle came in the door he looked at me and said,

Him: "Hi, how are you?"

Me: "Good, how are you?"

"Good..... how are you?"

"?..... Good, how are you?"

"Good, no really, I haven't seen you for 2 years, Noah, so how are you?

"Um.....good, how are you?"

He threw some rolls into my arms, I dropped them in the kitchen and went to the bathroom and cried for 8 min. Why? Clearly I'm taking LSD and am not awake for the fun part of the drug. I had to get my face back together to go back out for the meal, so I tracked my face to follow the oscillating fan in my dad's bathroom. That was a sight. Me sniffling as I followed a small fan in a semi-circle 9 in. from my dad's bathroom mirror. At this rate, Christmas is going to be awesome.

By this time, I was supposed to have received an email from Fuckhead about getting the remainder of my things and possibly a small fraction of anything that we ever owned together. I have received nothing. I want him to be dead so much. I don't want to kill him, I just want him to be dead. Does that make me a bad person? I don't think so either. Like, if someone came to my door and asked me if they should kill Fuckhead for me, the first thing out my mouth wouldn't be yes or no, it would be "How?". I need to make sure that it was humiliating, but not in a way that would emote sympathy from anyone, and thorough. The details would be like a cozy blanket to me.

Gosh, as I reread that I sound a little psycho.....huh. But yes, dead.