Hello, Pals of the Internets. Did you have a lovely Thanksgiving? Did you eat deep-fried bird? Did you burn your houses down? I hope not.
I am refreshed and revivified after my own holiday, which consisted of reading true crime novels and stuffing my face. Really, there’s nothing better than that.
I also discovered the cure for situational depression this weekend. It is simply this: Read a book about the Green River Killer, and then, when people ask you how you are, say things like, “Well, it could be worse. My body could be lying at the bottom of a ravine, garrotted with its own underpants.” Actually, don’t say that. You’ll upset people.
I’m sure I’ll come up with a better answer than this. Previously, I’d been cheering up my friends by saying things like, “Well, at least you have a pancreas.” Or: “Know what sucks? Dialysis.” It worked, too! People totally forgot all about their problems, whilst trying to figure out exactly what had gone wrong inside my pointed head.*
* Note: My head is not pointed. It is actually completely round and quite handsome, with or without hair, as I discovered in college during my punk rock phase. Thank you.