Thanks A Lot

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It’s the eve before Thanksgiving Eve (also known as Tuesday) and the day/eve, was a fucking mess. We got an ice storm last night, so┬áB-Man’s school was cancelled today and I needed to get the snow tires back on the xB. Not to mention I had a million other things to do as we prepare for our trip back to Western PA for the holiday. Thankfully (or not) I had the chance to squeeze in 40 minutes on the trainer. 40 minutes that would have been better spent guzzling a vodka/sleeping pill/Lexapro cocktail instead of half heartedly spinning along and going nowhere for 40 minutes of a planned 60.

Don’t get me wrong, I am anxious to see my father, brother, sister, and in-laws, but mentally I would rather suck on a gas pipe than have to endure four days of explaining why the magazine went bust and I am mooching off my Wife’s brain and (thankfully) its associated income with no gainful employment in sight. But… such is life. I am very thankful. A slacker, but a THANKFUL slacker.

Yeah, that sounds like I am being a dick, but I am indeed thankful for a loving wife (that doesn’t mind I bring fuck all to the bread winning portion of our marriage table), an amazing son and semi-good health (three blood clots in less than five years hasn’t killed me yet!). Of course, in my mind, I am 59% certain that I will have liver failure, stroke out or develop cancer in the next year, but that is another post. I am still riding, racing and plugging along. Thanks.

I am not even taking the bike on this trip. There is always too much to do and even if I took it to ride on the trainer, I might squeeze in ONE day of riding. I think it best just to say “fuck it” and maybe go for a run, walk, jog, hike, or something. I might regret it, but probably not.

And then there’s Jake…

I hate to sound like an even bigger douche, but I am NOT looking forward to being apart from Jake The Dog for 5 days. We can’t take him and he has to go to the Dog Motel until Monday. He’s such a jerk, but I dig him the most. He “gets” me. (I am joking, that is a joke). Still, I have no idea how to cope without him the next five days…. I am sure I will find away (not smelling dog fart, cleaning up puke and hearing him growl at things like mugs of coffee will surely help). I guess I could always cuddle up to a hairy, snoring, farting, hobo who smells like corn chips and shit. Meh, In all likelihood, I will probably just snuggle up to Wifey and try to defoul the guest room at my father in-law’s crib.

Very thankful indeed.

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