Skeeter, Eating Ass with Chip, My Almond Skin Tone, The Butt-Hurt Generation

“You are not special. You’re not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We’re all part of the same compost heap. We’re all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.”
— Chuck Palahniuk

Good morning, happy Thanksgiving; I think this might be a fun one.  Skeeter arrived yesterday afternoon; Skeeter is cousin’s mother.  We decided after a drink to visit our local hangout, The Dugout, for dinner.  It was packed; we ran into our friends Kurt, Julia, and their son Jude.  I guess it was trivia night; we sat on the dive bar side, the newer side was jammed!  If ever in Indianapolis, visit the Dugout!

We are hosting Thanksgiving; we’ve got a full house coming.  Our menu is pretty diverse; instead of turkey and ham, we opted for pulled pork.  I cooked about 10 pounds yesterday, it’s shredded, and we have multiple sauces to choose from.  My wife is making cheese broccoli soup, petit spinach pies, polish mistakes, mashed potatoes with homemade gravy, pecan pie, and my father is bringing his world-famous cheesecake. 

I got a call yesterday from Chip.  If you regularly read my “work,” you know Chip, the farmer from Beautiful Parker City, who is single, never married, has no kids, and is a unique individual.   So, Chip calls and shares he has some sad news, his pet donkey died.  I said, “Barney?”  He said, “No, it was David; I never really liked that ass.”

He said, but good news, I had him slaughtered, and I’m bringing some ground David for Thanksgiving. So, in Chip’s words, “We’re eating ass on Thanksgiving!”  I’ve never eaten ass; I don’t know if it will favor the profile of beef, chicken, or maybe cod. But I’m excited to try it; I’ll let you know how my first taste of ass works out.

I got my toes done yesterday; Cathy did a peacock on my big toes; it might be my best pedicure ever.   We found our new Pedi place; I tipped well, they were happy.  We left there to get lunch at the Ale Emporium; we went to pick up our sauces for Thanksgiving.  As we dined, the person to my right and my Queen’s left were nurses.  Both were on the front lines of the pandemic.  Kyle and Amy had many COVID stories.  I asked Kyle how many people with no underlying conditions died from COVID, and he said zero. 

According to my new nurse friend, everyone he helped transition across Shyok River (Google it) was morbidly obese and couldn’t breathe properly for two years. So is it possible that the pandemic leaned into natural selection?  We talked about many topics, and before we left, I asked the server to put both front lines medical workers’ lunches on our tab; I felt an obligation to reward these modern-day heroes. 

We left there, and I got my first ever spray tan.  As my body was being painted, I learned my painter was the salon owner, I shared my profession, and she wanted us to take a look at her risk management program.  Today my skin tone is deep almond; I needed some color for our daughter’s wedding.  I might begin a regular paint job knowing that the darker the color of my skin, the more benefits society offers.  Now more than ever, skin tone matters.

We arrived home after dinner and sat at our kitchen bar, catching up with Skeeter.  It’s been a hot minute since we last saw her.  She’s 75, looks no more than 55, and has a priceless laugh. We all got our seats in the living room, Skeeter took my wife’s seat, and I promptly asked her to move so I could hold my wife’s hand.   She relocated, my wife sat in her spot, and I dialed up Moulin Rouge, a fantastical movie.

My dog just got up, as did Skeeter; I am reminded why a dog has so many friends it wags its tail instead of its tongue.  Skeeter stayed in our carriage house, claims to have slept well; it’s a bit moist outside, we will probably not dine in our courtyard.  Dr. Tony, we will be inside with no masks and no social distancing, suck it, you maniacal little worm.

I got word that Jefferson County, my home county in CO, reinstated the mask mandate for those vaccinated and unvaccinated. Although n Jefferson Country we have lost two people from COVID in the past seven days, more people have died from traffic accidents. Is it time to remove the ability to drive a car?   I’m sorry, this government control is out of hand, out of line, and I’m a little sick of others telling us what to do based on “science.”

Well, I think I’ve agitated the snowflakes enough; I fear that the next generation is the generation of butt-hurt individuals.  My son pointed this out years ago, “Dad, people in my generation get butt hurt a lot.”  I didn’t know how true his statement was, but he was like Nostradamus. So a little reminder, facts don’t care about your feelings kids, grow up.  

Happy Thanksgiving, it looks like along with our fantastic menu, Chip is bringing ass; we will drink, eat and be merry and maybe have a Euchre tournament.  I think our shuffleboard will get some action, as will our record player.  We will watch some football and have a wonderful day of love, friendship, and family.  I trust you will do the same, and I’m sorry if my words stung you a little; I’m a humorist and agitator, and I make no excuses for my comments.  Be yourself; everyone else is taken.

“You are not special. You’re not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We’re all part of the same compost heap. We’re all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.”
— Chuck Palahniuk