THANKSGIVING: Doomsday for Turkeys on Farms and Families in Midtown.

Happy Thanksgiving. An american holiday built upon slaughter and backstabbing. 
I could care less about the pilgrims and indians. 
I could live without the cranberry sauce and stuffing  (from what i hear, the caned and boxed type is some of the bast anyways)
All I've ever cared about is 
  • how to perfectly peal a potato in the least amount of shavings possible 
  • and waking up at some god awful time to hear the chaos of Macy's thanksgiving day parade in the background as i nod in and out of sleep under the covers. 

Unfortunately: I will be navigating my way through the mess of children, tourism, and massive balloons in order to get out of the city at 8am this year.
Fortunately: I will also be able to spend 4 hours on a bus, without having to speak. I don't remember that last time I was able to do that. 
Thanks to not giving, I suppose. 

I will be departing from my small dysfunctional European family in order to make it to a larger dysfunctional European family, before dinner.
I've downloaded three Louis C.K. podcasts, photos to shop, and all of my Wire albums, for the bus ride.

The best part of Thanksgiving: a background story.

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Likes to hate things like: The color pink, My Little Pony, ambient music, Coca-Cola products, high waisted everything, cats...all of them, bananas, most female singers, Adult Swim humor, chopping onions, bad parking jobs, sentences that start with 'i had this crazy dream', shimmery makeup, unmade beds, cursive fonts, bleached hair on the crown of black hair, Palin, those strappy jesus shoes, Mac 'genius' bar, responding to my cell phone

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