Enjoy your tryptophan.

Last night my Houseguest and I hooked up a new stereo to the TV and to test it out he insisted we watch Star Wars. Last thing I remember Luke was bitching about the blast shield being down. How's he supposed to fight? That was almost 1am and now I am at work while Houseguest sleeps in a warm bed. Tonight I'm going to lance Houseguest in the eye with a real light saber.

Houseguest and I will be spending Thanksgiving together in my apartment in a traditional meal of meatballs and shrimp and chicken and potatoes dipped in things. They're turkey meatballs, so it's kind of relevant. The hell if I'm cooking a whole turkey, and I don't like cranberries or stuffing. We still haven't decided on dessert yet. I suggested Baskin Robbins down the street, but apparently that is "ghetto". So it's narrowed down to chocolate fondue or peanut butter pie. Houseguest has been a good sport about going nontraditional and helped me buy groceries yesterday, although that may be because I've somehow convinced him that I'm a phenomenal cook.

Good lord, don't go to the grocery store unless you have to. Last night Vons was like Wal-Mart on moving day in a college town, especially around the turkey bin. Anybody ever wonder if Thanksgiving was just an invention by the turkey industry, like Halmark and Valentine's Day? The whole story about Indians sharing stuff was all a big lie perpetrated by North Carolina turkey farmers. The real story was probably -

Oh, hold up. That was a brilliant idea for a screenplay. The hell if I'm sharing it with you people when I can make a zillion dollars next year when I present my Thanksgiving script to the world and they go bat shit crazy over it.

Happy Turkey Day.