Because this is the holiday of thankfulness and all that good stuff, I thought I'd find out what the other folks here are grateful for. "Okay guys," I said, "I know we usually go snarky and rude and funny, but I want each and every one of you to open your hearts and tell me what you are really, truly thankful for. The tender way your child puts her hand on your cheek and says 'Mama'? The squeals of 'Daddy, Daddy' that greet you when you wake up in the morning? That your family is healthy, happy, and cared for?"
Let's see, Rachel said she's grateful that the men in her dreams are so well-hung.
Should've known the bitches would let me down. But a couple did actually eke out something sweet. Here's the Derby gratitude list...
Jessica says she's "thankful for a three-year old who entertains, disgusts, appalls me with
surprisingly accurate assessments of what objects and which people his
poop resembles (as in, "Look mommy! I pooped a violin!"). Nothing says
holiday bliss like an instrument-shaped potty break." Um, very true indeed.
Karen is really grateful the school buses that have saved from being three-school carpool mom. And for the e-mails we send to each other here, which are often entertaining. And for my ass. Can't say that I blame her for that.
Mike, the sentimental one, says, "I'm thankful for the sweet, beautiful children who reside within us all ... and for the wonderful promise that is humankind." (He so copied that from his Playgirl profile.) "Also, pie and egg nog. I'm thankful for pie and egg nog. And by eggnog I mean bourbon. And sometimes heroin, depending on how the nap goes." Daddy's little helper, I suppose.
Bill takes a more pragmatic approach. "I'm thankful for my precious flask at 3 hour holiday parades at night in late November in the northeast. I'm thankful for my neighbor's unsecured wireless networks. Last
night I was thankful that projectile baby vomit does not have the same
biological properties as Alien blood (That's it man, game over man,
game over! What the f*ck are we gonna do now?)" Isn't that beautiful?
And Matt closed it out with gratitude that his dog likes the taste of projectile baby vomit. Awwww.
Me? I'm grateful for my kid, whats-her-name, and that I'll be able to eat unlimited dessert on Thanksgiving (long story). I'm grateful I can still eat after thinking of Matt's dog eating baby vomit. And for asses. And for the bitches here, who make me laugh.
