All the remnants of yesterday's Thanksgiving meal are in the fridge...the half-eaten pies, slightly burned stuffing, congealed gravy and turkey carcass I brought home for soup but will probably never touch. And as I give thanks for aluminum foil and Tupperware, I think of other things I'm grateful for. Things like:
Twitter. Okay, you social networking snobs…don’t judge me. Anyone who’s reading this uses either Facebook, Twitter, MySpace or a combination of the three. Funny how staunchly anti-Twitter some Facebookers are. And how anti-MySpace some tweeters are. A social networking caste system. I dig them all. (Granted, I never touched my MySpace after I opened it because I'm not 17 or in a band). Say what U will abt Twtr, U FB elitists, but it’s been GR8 4 me. Sure I now abbrv evrythg I write 2 save space. But I’ve met lts o GR8 ppl thru Twtr. So scrw U.
People who “get” me. Who get my sense of humor, my politics, where I’m coming from…and going. And people who don’t “get” me, but like me anyway. The overly serious or right-winged folks I know who, for one reason or another, like me despite my cynicism, constant quips and my left leanings. I like you too, despite your moronic Fox-fueled beliefs and complete lack of humor. Well, most of you. A couple of you I have plans for (insert evil laugh).
People who put others before themselves. They’re out there. Those of you who worked the soup kitchens yesterday, even though you were out of town. Those of you who gave up soccer games to work scout food drives two Saturdays in a row. Those of you who tell people to screw holiday shopping and make a charitable donation in your name instead. You know who you all are. I’d name you, but I know you’d hate it.
The person who invented cheese. And TiVo. And alcohol. And the iPod. And sushi. And laceless Chucks. And sex.
Online dictionaries and thesauruses. Also called concordances, references, sourcebooks…
www.UrbanDictionary.com How else would I ever keep up with the 20-somethings I know? Or how would I have ever found out what *u*k*k* was? (Please…for the love of God...don’t look it up, Mom.)
The ability to clear the browsing history on the shared family laptop after looking up things like “*u*k*k*.”
GPS devices that allow you to tool around LA like you know what the hell you’re doing, and to find the nearest well-lit ATM at 2 a.m. (Although that condescending “Recalculating” the Garmin gal says when you don’t take her recommended turn really pisses me off. Pushy, passive-aggressive dashboard driver! I heard you the first time, but there was a dog in the road! Lighten the hell up or I’ll give TomTom a go.)
Really good music that I can listen to 100 times without getting sick of it. And the kids in the car with me who are sick to death of it but let me listen anyway. I’m sorry you know all the words to every Latch Key Kid and Eric Hutchinson song. I know all the words to every damned Barney song ever written. Consider us even.
And lastly, I'm actually thankful for my evil psychotic dog. It’s because of you that we now truly appreciate the cat.
note: I had to edit *u*k*K* from my original posting. Despite a "for the love of God" warning, people were looking it up then emailing/texting/tweeting me that they were shocked. People! If you can't abide by a "for the love of God" warning, don't shoot the *u*k*n* messenger!