Fuck Off, Thanksgiving…Who Needs You

As I was walking back from my swim (yes…I’ve reached the age where I “work out”…I’m as confused as anyone else that knows me) I was thinking of my life (I know, deep) and, eventually, everything that I was truly thankful for.

I only say truly in reference to the bullshit heard around Thanksgiving dinner like, “I’m thankful for everyone here in this room.” That’s bullshit…no one is thankful for Aunt Darlene, the notorious cheater at board games and god knows what else. Or cousin Jenny’s handicapped husband who somehow beats her. I’ll just stop there.

Anywho…I came up with a few…

  • My usual Friday and/or Saturday bar, Simon’s. As I later figured out in a nearly hallucinogenic LSD flashback to 1998 when, at 20 years of age, I encountered my first bar. I was in Chicago to record a record with my band at the time, name withheld. (Okay, fine. We were called Urban Dance Squad.) After a long day in the studio (what a prick thing to say), the engineer, Matt Allison, felt like getting a beer. “Er…I’m only 20,” I said while secretly hoping it didn’t matter. “That doesn’t matter. We’re going to Simon’s. I know the guys there.” Sure enough, no problem. It was about two years ago when I looked around the present day Simon’s and realized, “Shit. This is the first bar I was ever in in my life.” It was like it was meant to be. Further proof lies in the fact that I got a free shot of Maker’s Mark when I informed the bartender, Dr. Keith, of that fact.
  • My lease of almost two years. You see, my apartment rules. It’s cheap, at least for its size. I’m friends with my neighbors, which is key. It may be old and kinky at times (kinky in that it has a lot of kinks, not because it likes to be tied up). My landlord, Margaret, has never made a fuss that I misspell her last name on every rent check. It wasn’t on purpose, you see…it was just that I thought I had been spelling it correctly the entire time until about a year ago when one of my neighbors informed me of the correct spelling. “Well, each check has cleared so I’m gonna play dumb.” To this day there is no fuss. Not to mention that it’s located in Uptown, notorious for its architecture, crazy people, and the mini-ghetto of Wilson Ave.
  • My summer of Motorcycling. Duh.

This list is in no way complete. I just live off the top of my head.

One Response to “Fuck Off, Thanksgiving…Who Needs You”
  1. April says:

    We both referenced LSD on our latest posts. I’m getting tracers off this text.

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