the truth about Thanksgiving

You all know how I feel about holidays (if you don’t, here’s a summary, I LOATHE them), but out of all of them, I hate Thanksgiving most of all. I enjoy the practice of it (I am still remembering the vegan feast Erin and I made last year and gorged ourselves on), but hate the myth it is based on. So, before you start dressing up like Pilgrims and Indians and thinking that your dinner is like the first one where the “Indians” showed the pilgrims how to make popcorn and shit, have a gander at “The Real First Thanksgiving” from the awesome book Lies My Teacher Told Me. Yes, it’s a bootleg scan (thanks to Brandon), but would you expect something else from me?

the_truth_about_the_first_thanksgiving.pdf

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pet peeve #245

It is bad enough when people sing in public, but when they do it in a breathy, vibrato style like they are on American Idol. Kind of like the “I know I am an awesome singer” kind of way. Drives me crazy. No one wants to hear it.

Also, I thought we were passed the Uggs with a miniskirt phase. Apparently Northern Cal didn’t get the memo.

Also, ladies? Aviator sunglasses make your faces look chubby.

pet peeves

I am surprised I did not start this list earlier, but I’ve decided to put them in writing. Because I am a crusty old woman. Here are some pet peeves currently on my mind:

People backing into spaces. What the hell? Like when you leave you will be in such a hurry that you can’t spare the 7 seconds it takes to pull out of a space? It takes longer to back into a space at the beginning than it does to pull out at the end. I think that people who back into spaces are incredibly entitled. Yes, that is a huge judgement. Deal with it.

People saying “1am in the morning” or “4pm in the aftenoon”. Either say the “am” part or the “morning” part. Make a fucking choice.

When I am wating at a crosswalk, and the whole street is clear except for one close approaching car. I stand and wait for that car to go by, no biggie, but then they STOP and WAVE ME ACROSS. Who the hell made them crossing guard? Furthermore, now I feel obligated to run across the street instead of liesurely walking, which was why I was waiting in the first place. Fuck.

People wearing CBGB’s shirts. They have no clue what that even means.

More bitterness to come!