I was awakened by a text message at 7:16 Monday morning. It read, "By by shula channel six." That was my Mom, alerting me that Alabama's football coach had been fired. (Except that it actually said channen six. But she's only been texting for a short time, and I don't think she knows how to delete or backspace yet.) Anyway, that probably tells you more about my life and background than anything.
Thus ended my Thanksgiving holiday weekend. It wound up being more eventful than the False Messiah had anticipated. First of all, Wednesday was Laura's last day on General Hospital. It was incredibly sad. And might I add, cruel, for them to bring her back then snatch her away just as quickly.
I also noticed that with my gray pullover sweater and glasses, I was beginning to look a bit like Dillon Quartermaine. Although when I took the GH personality quiz online, it said I was most like Nikolas. Which is probably accurate.
Thursday was good, as I got to see Mom, Dad, and my sister. And eat. And then play Clue and 80's Trivial Pursuit with friends. Although I kept blurting out answers to other people's questions. And everyone got mad. Well, not really mad. More like slightly perturbed, in that it's-cute-at-first-but-now-it's-getting-old-but-still-it's-Bone-so-what-can-you-do kind of way.
Mom had oral surgery Friday. Even though she didn't say anything, I could tell she was really nervous about it, as she'd never been put to sleep. My sister and I took turns sitting with her Friday and Saturday, as she pretty much laid around all weekend. She seems to be doing OK now.
Saturday night, I went to see Bobby. Let's just say it wasn't what I expected. And I mistook Demi Moore and Emilio Estevez for Courtney Cox and David Arquette. But the video and audio clips of Robert Kennedy campaigning and speaking were worth the price of admission for me. They don't make speakers like that anymore.
Began my Christmas shopping Sunday and put up my tree last night. (I'll try and post a picture later.) Also checked to make sure my Festivus pole was still in the crawlspace. It was. I'll be dragging that out later this month.
I've also spent the past couple of days pondering my dating quiz results from the post below. I think that False Messiah would be a killer rap name, should I ever decide to pursue that avenue.
Here are just a few lines I've been spitting, as the kids say:
I'm the False Messiah/This ain't Mount Moriah/I don't know Hezekiah/But you can call me king/My street cred's invincible/My rhymes super sensible/Your crime indefensible/If you don't dance and sing...
I'll keep tweaking it. It's all a process. A journey. I imagine this is how Eminem got started. Or at least Weird Al.
"Come on, weatherman, give us a forecast snowy white. Can't you hear the prayers of every childlike heart tonight..."