It's a day late, but here's what I'm thankful for, this very second:

- I helped Kim move her bed and she bought me lunch and I haven't talked to her in EVER and her smile still kills me

- There's a piece each of razzleberry and apple pies in the kitchen, plus a fridge full of turkey

- My paycheck was twenty bucks more than I thought it would be

- I am rocking the new album by "The Best Band Mesa Has Produced (since JEW)" and I get to see them and Logik tomorrow night

- Since my paycheck was unexpectedly large I decided to treat myself to The Starting Line show tonight

- GO DEVILS!

- My work schedule has returned to normal after this week's obscene 6-am Thanksgiving rush travesty

...and tonight, everything's coming up D to the C.

You fucking pricks.

At work tonight, some family just lost their old guy.

When they came into the store, they had an old guy, when they left, they didn't.

They stood out front for a half an hour. The youngest male was doing laps around the store, looking for him. There were a lot of worried expressions. Old people aren't easily replaced.

It turned out later that he'd just walked home without telling anyone. But if you can think of a story that's a better argument for tougher mandatory leash laws for the elderly, well, I'd love to hear it.

I saw Ben at the store as well. He left with exactly as many old people as he came with.

Chelsea W has hung up her blogging spurs. Sniff. I saw her do it out of the corner of my eye in fourth hour, because I'm a nosy little shit, but I didn't really want to believe it, not 'till I got home. And it's the truth. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

She'll be back.


I got to come home after school today. I'm absolutely not shitting you. Right after the bell rang I was out the door. I was halfway down Knox while most people were still at their lockers. So THIS is what people do every day. It was raining and 2:41 and I was going home, thus making it the Unlikeliest Afternoon Ever. Also, on the Unlikely tip: I did homework.

And after this, I'm going to go get a haircut.

I know, I know. I'm scared too.


From the Dept. Of Italicized Profundity I Wrote In Creative Writing Last Week:

Jealousy is all your greatest fantasies with a slight change in casting.

The Thespian Conference was exactly how I remembered, one big self-congratulatory circle jerk of drama departments from all over the state, saying, aren't we great, and aren't our costumes cute. Wearying, to say the least.

The highlights:

- The two mainstages that we saw, "Lend Me A Tenor" by Goldwater and "Footloose" by Saguaro in Tucson. They weren't the best things I'd ever seen onstage, but you had to admire the guts. These are high school troupes who have to lug in their sets in the morning, get acclimated to a completely different auditorium, then perform in either the afternoon or the early evening, then tear it all down, shove it on a truck, and leave so the next show can go. Must've been worth it, though; you couldn't find a better audience than a thousand rowdy drama kids who sympathize with your technical difficulties and revel in your clever stage business. Half the fun of watching these shows is knowing how much fun these kids are having. Hey, I've been there. I've missed an entrance. My mic didn't work either. Good times.

- We performed our competition one-act, "Degas, C'est Moi." Set up in ten minutes, struck in two. In one door of the black box drama room and out the other, performing to thirty students and a panel of five judges, with screwed-up lighting cues and a lost shoe, but it was hella fun. There was no curtain call and time was of the essence, so it felt like a bank robbery, although they don't usually give you notes after a bank robbery.

We found out that this wasn't actually a competition, just sort of a critique-thing. State isn't 'till January. We'll dominate.

Cocky? Me?