I dreamt I beat a man to death with a lobster last night. I was at my parents old house where I grew up in New Jersey, sitting in the backyard blogging and there was a guy next door who was drunk and talking shit to me. There was also a lobster on the table next to my laptop. I'm not sure why because I don't like lobster. Anyway, eventually the guy hopped the fence and tried to attack me with a bottle. I grabbed the bottle from his hand, picked up the lobster and started beating him on the head with it. It wasn't really a nightmare either. I kind of enjoyed beating this guy with a lobster.
Anyone know what this means? Could it be that my psyche is telling me to re-evaluate my dislike of seafood all these years? Or maybe the lobster represents wealth and, growing up poor, my subconscious is telling me to eschew class envy. Maybe it's about aggression and has nothing to do with the lobster. Still, I think the lobster has to have something to do with it. I mean how often do you dream of bludgeoning someone with a lobster? Anyway if you have any idea what this could mean, let me know.
Thursday Of This Week
Here's what I'm doing for Thanksgiving - Nothing! I'm not going anywhere and I'm not doing anything. Oh, I'll cook the obligatory turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce and some kind of weird squash thing that Alice is making. And maybe some mashed potatoes but I'm not sure yet. And also some green beans with the crunchy onion things on top. I'm just kidding. I never put the crunchy onion things on top. I hate the crunchy onion things. But otherwise, I'm not having anyone over and I'm not going anywhere.
You people on the other hand will all have to deal with your stupid families, travel hundreds of miles, get your cheeks pinched by old aunts, some uncle will get drunk and throw up on all the coats piled in the bedroom, you'll have to pretend to like people you hate, have inane conversations with your dorky cousin and you won't be able to get in the bathroom after the big meal because there are 16 other people waiting.
But not me. I don't have to talk to anyone. I'll have two and a half bathrooms all to myself all day long. The only one who will be throwing up is me. All day long I'm just going to be basting the turkey, watching football, drinking cocktails and thinking about how lucky I am that I'm alone and how you poor suckers are miles from home or dealing with your crazy families.
Speaking of basting turkeys, I bought a regular frozen turkey. I will put it in the oven and cook it the way you're supposed to. None of these fancy "brine" turkeys. And I also won't be frying the damn thing. What is up with everyone frying friggin' turkeys? It's the latest craze. Well let me tell you something, I 'm not frying anything on Thanksgiving. Who the hell wants to stand outside freezing your ass off while scaulding turkey grease flies all over the place? And I'm not spending $50 on peanut oil, thank you very much. I will be in my warm house with a turkey in the oven and that lovely smell of roasting turkey in the air like a normal person.
Please people, resist the urge to fry your turkeys. There's something unnatural about it. Plus, your hair could light on fire and nobody wants some bald freak who smells like burning hair carving the turkey.