backhanded thanks

Stuff I’m planning to do today, not in any particular order:

  • Die in a happy food coma
  • Overdose on carbs
  • Eat
  • Cook

Okay; rather, not in that particular order.

I would like to take this time to break down some of the traditional blessings for which people give thanks at this time of year, because I don’t want to be that cliched person on Facebook, and if you are that cliched person on Facebook, really, I expect more creativity from you. You’ve had an entire year to think about it.

Which is not to say I’m not thankful for all the usual stuff; only that I care enough about you guys not to make you read it here when you’re already seeing it everywhere else.

I want this blog to be sort of the equivalent of the radio station that steadfastly continues to pump out heavy metal when every other station is blaring Christmas carols; although, in its defense, the other metal station has limited its Christmas selection to Bob Rivers’ Twisted Christmas CD, and Cheech and Chong performing that sentimental classic Santa and His Old Lady.

So.

I’m thankful, not for my education, but for the fact that I was raised to use the brain the good Lowered (or the Mom, depending on whom you ask) gave me.

I’m thankful, not for my job, but for the fact that, where I currently work, I have colleagues who not only don’t consider me a budgetary constraint, they crack up if I say things like “Kevin Clash just gave a whole new meaning to ‘Tickle me, Elmo.’”

I’m also thankful that I’ll never have to leave my job on account of having (allegedly) Clashed with a minor, by the way.

I’m thankful, not for my improved health, but for the fact that I ran into a boy I hadn’t seen for several months, and not only did he call me “skinny Minnie,” he sort of gave me the impression that, although we both know full well that I am married and so is he, flirting would have been the order of the day had that not been true.

Which means, therefore, that I’m not only thankful for new jeans, I’m thankful to be able to fit into them.

Speaking of not being thankful for my health as such, I am fairly thankful that, while I am not winning the Biggest Loser initiative at work, I am at least contributing my fair share of points to our group total, which has us in second place, and, in our defense, the team in first place has one of those doucherockets who tries to intimidate people into not recording their water intake and number of steps, so he can scoff up all the points.

Sorry, dude — when the website didn’t work yesterday, that does not mean I’m not allowed to log yesterday’s workout today. If I have to rely on that faulty code to get credit for good behavior, I might just as well sit on my fat arse eating Chee-tos on the days the page crashes.

I’m not at all grateful for needing to have good willpower, and I’m not wholly grateful for having improved my willpower, but I am extremely proud of myself for having ordered a salad instead of french fries yesterday.

Speaking of salad, incidentally, I’m not even the slightest bit thankful for the salad, but I’m thankful for my excellent reflexes, as in, when we were buying bottled dressing the other day and That Man of Mine picked up a bottle of ranch and asked, “Where is Hidden Valley, anyway?” my brain wanted to say, “I think it’s in California somewhere,” but my quick mouth said, in an ominous tone of voice, “Nobody knows …”

I’m not so much thankful for my new Android as I am thankful for the ability, for the first time in years, to read a really substantial book without my neck or wrists making me want to quit before the story gets good.

I’m not nearly as thankful for That New Job of That Man of Mine as I am for the steady hours and the movie passes, but I’m okay with that.

I’m also okay with saying that, cliched as it may be, I’m really thankful for my friends and family, because without them, the rest of it is all bullshit anyway.


Tags:

drinking: ice water
listening to: Arlo Guthrie, Alice’s Restaurant, of course
today’s salad: spinach, bosc pears, gorgonzola, balsamic, and pecans, because some people don’t want them no walnuts

6 thoughts on “backhanded thanks

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