Go to the Movies or How to survive Turkey Day

Happy Holidays my….well, you know, what. I’m telling you, I’d rather eliminate all holidays and just have random days off from work. No stress and no pressure. It’s got to be effing Hallmark moment. Impossible. How can it be a Hallmark moment when your paternal grandmother is scarier than Katrina and you maternal grandmother is at the gambling boat? Tell me what makes the Holidays happy when your pimped out OLD uncle brings someone to the family dinner younger than you? (Is she legal?) What’s so joyous about the incessant question: “when are you getting married?” Peace to the world, my foot. Peace to ME. Peace of mind. You won’t see me at any family gathering this holiday season. I’ll be at Village Eight or Tinseltown (when I feel like shelling out the real dough). I’ll be combing the aisles of Hollywood Video. I’ll be wondering why there are not that many people at Olive Garden. Holidays, Smolidays. It’s a crock. The American dream (read: illusion) is so overrated. Oh, yeah….I’m in a bad mood. Happy Effing Turkey Day.