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Turkey Time in the Big Apple

Hey, kids. Just a quick note to let you know that I’ll be AWOL for a couple of days, what with the Thanksgiving holiday and all. The missus and I are driving to New York City tomorrow evening, and will be spending most of the weekend there. There’s no telling what adventures and merriment she has planned, but if there’s any hilarity to be had, you’ll be the first to know.

(Or second. Third, really, since she and I will both be present. Still, ‘sloppy thirds’ is better than… well, than no thirds, at least.

Sorry. These didn’t turn out to be the ‘helpful’ sort of parentheses, so much, did they? Better luck next aside.)

All I know for certain is that we’re due to watch the Macy’s parade while we’re there. My wife has caught at least part of the festivities on TV every year since I’ve known her. Often, she’ll watch the bulk of it, sappy floats, marching bands, Katie Couric, and all. But she refuses to miss the appearance of Santa Claus near the end of the parade. I honestly believe that she could be showering at ten-till-parade-end-time, and she’d come streaking into the living room, naked and wet and shivering, and stand there until Santa did his thing. I’ve even tried coaxing her into the shower just before — only to test the theory, you understand — but to no avail. She’s too wily for that.

So, now we’ll see the parade live, and in person, with seventeen million of our closest friends. It’s not exactly my preferred way to spend a Thursday morning, but at least now I can cross ‘Attend Macy’s Parade’ off my list of ‘Things to Do Before I Die‘. And frankly, it was way the hell down that list — just below ‘Pee on Four States at Once at Four Corners National Monument’ and just above ‘Kick Six Flags Mascot Guy in the Balls for Being So Goddamned Creepy’. Yes, it’s a very long list. Why do you ask?

Anyway, I’ll be bloggera non grata for a few days, so feel free to entertain yourselves around here while I’m gone. Check out yesterday’s post, from a few hours ago, or go digging into the archives. Or keep the good times a-rolling in the comments; whatever shivers your timbers. I’ll see you on Saturday, when I get back, or Sunday, after I’ve had time to sleep off the images of giant Funky Winkerbean and Garfield floats burned onto my retinas. I’ll say ‘hi’ to Santa Claus for you. Cheers.