I got a hair cut
yesterday for the first time in almost three years. I woke up around 10:30, hopped in the shower, and then spent an agonizing half an hour detangling the soggy mess of hair trailing down my back without end. I usually don’t bother
brushing or combing my hair until it’s dry – saves my arms the stressful workout and my head the painful dull ache as a result of pulling incessantly at the unruly strands for long periods of time. But I had a purpose, so what needed to be done was done as it should have been.
I only got about fourteen inches cut off the bottom. I saved it in a little ponytail so I can call Locks for Love and see if they could use it. My hair was well below my bottom and well on its way to knee-length, which caused all sorts of what should be simple activities to turn into major challenges. At the top of the list was using the bathroom, sleeping, sitting, and closing car doors. This trim was long overdue.
Besides the haircut, Thanksgiving was pretty standard. We had the usual group of relatives flock to our house, the usual Thanksgiving food: turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole with mushroom soup and crispy stuff on top (the kind clampe likes to eat too), amazing fruit salad prepared by my mom’s brother’s wife, stuffing, yams, all too much gravy and other sickening condiments that I avoid like the plague, salad, some sort of cheesy goo with unidentifiable ingredients, cranberry goo from three cans, and lovely salt and pepper dispensed from turkey-shaped shakers purchased from Pfaltzgraff.
And then there was dessert.
Thirteen pies. Thirteen. Well, one was actually a bunt cake, but nonetheless, I was impressed. We had a few pumpkin, sweet potato, apple, mince meat, raspberry, banana cream, pecan, lemon, pineapple, and several more that I didn’t have the chance to try. By the end of the day, I had eaten the equivalent of one and a half pies all to myself. I gained a whole pound. And then I got the worst stomach ache for a few awful hours. I’m finally in the last stage of recovery from that, and I even felt well enough to finish off the bunt cake and pecan pie for breakfast this morning. With root beer and cold turkey. Mmmm.
My mother bought a game cube for my brother on the 18th, complete with Luigi’s Mansion and Tony Hawk, two extra controllers and two memory cards. $420. Insane, if you ask me. And now it’s sitting in my parents closet, unopened and unplayed, where it will remain until Christmas. I don’t know how much I like that part.
A friend of mine bought a Game Cube yesterday for himself, along with some wave runner game with an amazingly high level of skill required to play. We convinced him to buy a copy of Luigi’s Mansion from Meijer, and played that game for hours. The graphics are incredible, but the CD is so tiny. The game cube itself is tiny. The controls are shaped in the most perfectly comfortable way, and the games were mostly fun to play. I can’t imagine being a young kind at this point in gaming evolution – I remember being excited when my parents bought my brother and I a Nintendo when I was six. Mario Brothers will always hold a place in my heart as being true entertainment instead of a step towards more technology and better graphics. But I have to admit, I am damn impressed with Nintendo’s progress. Everyone should own a game cube. Get yours today.
It’s only 3:30 and I’ve already had three meals and taken a nap. I may as well just call it a day.