There's No Turning Back Now

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the most horrible time of the year has officially begun. It’s 10:00 a.m. on this lovely Thanksgiving day. I’m home, with a beer in hand and a turkey in the oven, (yes, that’s homemade stuffing you see there), and things are seemingly great—aside, of course, from the Turkey bacteria that I got in my ear, which is slowly manifesting into a killer infection, and the burn I received after grabbing the pan in the oven, but that’s besides the point.

I slept in. There’ll be no visiting with family. No parades. Just football, drinking and cooking the day away. But, there’s one minor detail that I’ve failed to mention. In order to keep The Beast from making a surprise visit, I led her to believe that I would be spending Thanksgiving with her. This was Rey’s master plan—thank you Rey—after her last surprise visit. The only problem is I have to break the news.

But I’ve decided that I’m not gonna break the news. My master plan is to unplug the phone and not talk to her until Christmas. So how’s that for a happy Thanksgiving?

Did I mention I HATE THE HOLIDAYS?

Update: I caved. Well sort of, I sent her an e-mail with a lame excuse. To which she replied "Happy Thanksgiving," aka "You're a whore bitch and you ruined mine and your brother's Thanksgiving." (6:04 p.m.)