I thought I had a cup of corn syrup for the pecan pie but all I had was a half a cup. I substituted honey (not a whole half cup though). I think it's gonna taste yummy.

There is a car pulling up into my driveway. I don't know why. It's not 7:30 8ish. I do not have pants on.

Used too much water in the new yam thing, so it's gonna take a looooooong time for it to boil down into a usable form.

Didja ever see the Simpsons where Marge is cooking a ham and she bastes it and bastes it until it is so glaze-y that it glows? That's what's sitting on my stove right now. Need to decide-- fry the sausage for the cornbread dressing or peel the apples for the pie? Decisions, decisions. I think I may sit here for a while and drink a beer.

Dany made the Craisin dressing before he left. Instead of making two pecan pies, I may make one pecan and one apple custard. I'm also experimenting with a new way to make candied yams. Off to chop celery, onions and carrots (not for the candied yams or either of the pies, though).

Dany's whole entire family was invited to his sister's for Thanksgiving. We are bringing the pecan pie. This is good, I told myself. No need to spend hundreds of dollars on food, no need to use the vacation days I set aside for this week so I could clean up my dump.

Only Dany, Ebony and Justin were aghast that we weren't making anything. Dany wanted to make a brined turkey breast with a peach glaze. Justin already practiced making a ham and Ebony already stole some pecans to make butter pecan ice cream. And what about dressing? Huh? What about candied yams? HOW COULD THIS BE THANKSGIVING IF THESE THINGS AREN'T BEING COOKED AT HOME?

Then Frankie called and asked when was he coming over. Dany was perplexed. "Aren't you going to Alice's? Everybody's going to Alice's."

"Yeah but when are you guys cooking?"

Houseguest called. Same conversation.

Poor Kevin, no place to go for Thanksgiving. He'd come over even without the feast but actually having a feast would be cool.

The clincher was an old, old Brooklyn College friend calling and asking if we still did our famous Friday Thanksgivings like we used to when we were all young and had to go to family on Thanksgiving day.

Nope, no Friday Thanksgiving. Late night Thanksgiving. Dany has already made the mac n cheese and a zucchini side dish. The ham has soaked. Justin is cutting, pineappling, cloving and cherrying it. He will make the glaze before he leaves. I'm being left behind to glaze, make dressing,, yams and more pie.

I do not mind being left behind at all. I threw out my neck again (that's the only way I can explain it) so I got little sleep. It's stiff and hurty and I'm not good company. The people coming over at about 8 or so will have to deal with the cluttered, messy house and my shitty disposition. They're used to it.

The only part about this that made me a little mad was the surprise $400 supermarket expedition. I don't mind the company or the cooking at all. Especially since I don't have to do nearly all of it and I'll have the whole kitchen to myself to do it in.

What I think I'm supposed to be making:

2 more pecan pies
Candied yams
Cornbread stuffing
Craisin bread stuffing
Gravy
A little ham glazing.

That's not a lot. Especially for a house full of people who don't mind my cluttered mess or my shitty disposition.


As an extra special treat, here are the Superions feat. Fred Sneider in what I hope will be a new Thanksgiving tradition in America.

We like things that are expensive. We can get these things with careful planning. This Christmas I'm getting everyone a Wii and Wii stuff. A Wii all by itself can be gotten for under two hundred bucks, not bad at all, especially with advanced planning. But what the hell can you do with just a Wii and 4 people? The console comes with Wii Sport but I want it for the Wii Fit, which both Dany and Ebony say they'd love to have.

So the Wii and Wii Fit have been sitting in my cart for 2 months waiting for the right moment and an hour ago was that moment. The console comes with Sports and one controller. One. There are 4 of us. I got another controller, a nunchuk controller. And a wheel. And a jewelry book.

Suffice it to say, it was more than 200 bucks.

Skynet sent out all the claim information and all transactions to the claimants on pink pieces of paper. Oddly enough, Skynet called these papers 'Pink Sheets' (why the courts allowed the defendants to document their own transgressions, I do not know). The claimants marked the Pink Sheets in the manner in which they wanted us to process their claims and mailed them to us along with their claim forms. Skynet then took the information on the Pink Sheets and sent letters out to the claimants telling them why these transactions should not be considered 'properly documented'. We are now receiving phone calls about these letters. Today I had this conversation with one severely mentally inferior claimant.

Claimant: I have copies of everything I sent you right in front of me. I sent all the documentation it asked for there is no Pink Sheet here so how can you say I'm ineligible?

Me: In order to be eligible, the base amount must be greater than zero. As it shows on the Pink Sheet, there are no lines with a base greater than zero.

Claimant: I don't have any pink sheet.

Me: Did you copy everything sent to you?

Claimant: I just told you I did.

Me: Then I guess the papers you are holding are white. The paper that has the transactions on them-- across the top are headings: Date; Service; Base Amount; Percentage Paid. . .

Claimant: Yes, I see that.

Me: This is what Skynet is referring to when they say 'Pink Sheet'.

Claimant: I already told you: I don't have any pink sheets!

Me: Do you have the list of services provided to you by Skynet?

Claimant: Yes.

Me: That is a Pink Sheet.

Claimant: How many times do I have to tell you??!!! I don't have any pink sheets!!!

Me: No, you probably don't have any pink sheets of paper in front of you. You have white sheets. The white piece of paper that lists all of your services is called a Pink Sheet.

Claimant: But I DON'T HA. . .

Me: Ma'am! Please listen carefully. The sheets of paper WERE pink. They are, in fact, STILL PINK. We have them now. Believe me, they are pink. You copied the PINK sheets of paper but used white paper so now those Pink Sheets appear white to you. This does not stop Skynet from referring to those very same papers as Pink Sheets. Whenever you read the words 'Pink Sheet' in the letter you have just received, substitute the words 'white sheet' and we will both be happier for it.




I don't think she ever really understood. She realized how exasperated I was with her and decided to go along with me. To keep me from crawling into the phone and slapping her upside her head.

There were, like, 5 names I tried to remember since the last time I had names. But I only remember two. Well, three: Lacey and Misty Klapper. Do you think their mom was a diseased porn star?

And Jesus 'Funky Cold' Medina. All right, I added the Funky Cold but how could I not?

Due to an overextending visit to Stop 'n Shop. I don't feel like getting into the specifics-- it'll just piss me off.

On a lighter note: Don't you just love it when the day that's almost Friday comes on a Monday night?

All the skinny people in my house are clamoring for biscuits and gravy. Clamoring so much they went out and bought some bulk sausage and Pillsbury Grands. Which means I am right now in the process of preparing to kill myself slowly and easing myself into a heart attack.

This is my utterly delicious and totally bad for you sausage gravy:

Fry up a pound of Jone's bulk sausage. Remove from pan, leaving behind as much grease as possible. Throw in a bunch of butter (BUTTER- not margarine). Put very thinly sliced and diced yellow onion-- half a big one or a whole small one-- and some cracked pepper. Saute until limp. It should take no more than a few seconds if your cast iron skillet is hot enough.

Toss in even more butter and two heaping teaspoons of flour. Put the sausage back in the pan. Mix it up but good, scraping the bottom of the pan to get all that really good fried and sticky bottom of the pan mess involved. Slowly add milk until it's thinner than you want. No, I have no idea how much. A cup? Stir and stir until it's a gooey, sausagy, yummy mess. Spoon over Grands.




Who else makes sausage gravy? What's your way? Do you put vinegar? A more healthy recipe? Won't someone think of the arteries?







P.S. One pound of sausage is not enough for the three skinny and two fat people-- even thought the two fat people abstained from seconds. If you could hear the abuse being thrown at my head for not making enough gravy. Hey, you guys bought the fixins-- I just fixed 'em.

In case you couldn't tell of all the flowering plants I've grown, the African impatiens are my favorites. I bought six seedlings in the spring and put 4 in pots this fall. I gave two away. The one I gave to a co-worker first dropped all it's flowers, then all it's leaves and then all it's stems. When I brought the two in, they also dropped their flowers and then started losing stems.

But they have come back! Tonight at lights out I noticed that they were both covered in flowers! They're not as robust as they were outside but they are doing pretty O.K. Much better than dead. Lookit! Another 'distinctive' flower.

Spent the last 15 minutes at work boasting to all who would listen that I was leaving at 1:30 and that I literally would rather have my toe nails ripped out than stay one more minute.

So, my primary care physician looks at my toe, declares it infected, gives me a script for some antibiotics and a referral for a podiatrist so he can remove the nail. I make the earliest appointment available for the foot doctor. February 1st. I sure hope the foot soaks and antibiotics make it possible for me to wear boots once it snows.

Found this picture on The Dope:





Wow! What a butterface! What a sixpack! I find myself wondering what is underneath all that hair. And then I find myself wondering where I could find an exorcist because surely it was an evil demon who put that thought in my mind.

Called the doc about the toe. Said, "I got an ingrown toe nail and think it's infected. Can I come in on Saturday?" and the doc said, "No. Come in today." Then he checked his schedule and said, "O.K. not today. No room. Come in tomorrow."

I really do not want to leave work early tomorrow since work is being a prick about time off lately. Also, I don't see what the rush is about --it's not like it's cancer or a flesh-eating virus. Still, I worked 3 and a half hours overtime yesterday, so there was nothing they could say about me leaving an hour early. Oh sure, I got the stink-eye but I'm better at the raised-brow face than LawyerScum is with the stink.


The fact that we've gone insane with work this week is masking the no internet thing. With so much to do the day flies by. Once things slow down, I'm sure I'll want to garrote and flay myself by 11 am.

Last night I soaked it in Epsom salt and covered it with Bacitracin and hoped it would get better. No such luck. It has progressed from weepy to both gooey and crusty. And hurty. Tomorrow I call the doc and hope I can see him Saturday.



P.S. Do I not live the life of a Queen? Right now my feet are in Conair foot tub massager thingy that Ebony got for me last Christmas. She's putting some Epsom that she has left over from her butt cancer in it. Justin's got a tea kettle filled with hot water that he periodically puts in the tub to keep the water nice and warm.

I've got an ingrown toenail. If I were to kick you in the eye with the foot it's on, the last thing you'll see is that my big toe nail is shaped like a 'j'. That little fucking hook likes to grow into my meat.

Once it gets long enough, it'll stop digging and my toe will stop hurting. Usually. Not today. Today my toe is doing something new. It's turning red and weeping. What the fucking fuck, you stupid body? I'm gonna have to go see my doctor about this, aren't I?

Dany drives to the corner store. It takes me 5 minutes to walk there and I'm fat, have bad knees, bad feet and a bad back. He gets in the car and drives three blocks away. That's the laziest, most wasteful thing I've ever seen.

Ebony watches TV with the radio on. How can you enjoy either? That's the dumbest thing ever.


Justin leaves the light on in the bathroom and closes the door when he leaves. I always think there's somebody in there. Either leave the door open or turn off the light. Or just turn off the samn light. Who's it on for, the Ghost Shitter? The most annoying thing ever.

There's a strange rhythmic moaning coming from somewhere in the living room. Mendany start glancing around trying to figure out which machine has a motor that's dying. We finally zero in on it. It's Plunket snoring behind the couch.

The earrings didn't come out quite like I wanted but I like the picture.

Lieselotte VanDyk


I'm sure she doesn't pronounce it the way I do.

I believe I may be the first person to ever request to have the internet taken away. And I may have gotten brownie points with the big guys for admitting I have an internet problem. I sorta had to talk HR into it.

"If you don't take it away, I guarantee we'll be getting this same warning in a year or six months."