(thanks, DonFabrizio!)
Well, it’s supposed to be messy tomorrow, weather-wise (snow, rain, sleet, no Santy Claus), so I’m preparing by waking up with a massive headache, taking too long to get out and about and figuring out how much catching up I need to be doing on a bunch of work. Well, it’s not all pain and suffering here, folks. I did get a nice item to review in the post yesterday, so that will be keeping me occupied for a tiny bit. As I’m not doing anything for Thanksgiving (still no kitchen here and the recently scraped ceiling is peeling!), I’ll see if I can get a post or two up at some point from an undisclosed location. Or hell, one that has working wi-fi (shakes fist at Starbucks and their slower than should be tolerable or not working at all connections).
Okay, enough griping – I have stuff to do. My headache is gone, at least.
"DESTROY ALL FANBOYS!" 
Holy crap, I just flashed on When Time Ran Out, except, you know, switch out the snow for lava.
That bridge scene gave my ten-year-old little ass nightmares for twenty years. The fascination with molten rock lingers even today but now it’s more of a vulcanology thing than a crappy movie plot thing.
A Thanksgiving with no plans should be filled as follows: sleep in as late as possible because you don’t have to be anywhere or cook anything for anybody, brisk walk in the park to feel superior to everybody bloated on their living room sofas or trying to find a parking spot at the mall, followed up by a marathon of guilty pleasure movies that only you like to watch, take out food, and copious amounts of liquor. In your pajamas. Shower optional.
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Well, some of those activities you’ve mentioned are in the “plans” for tomorrow, but no promises. I tend to play it by ear and the seat of my pants, so I’ll be the guy walking around with his head stuck to his butt listening for trains or something. That said, I do have a stack of movies here I need to get to, so that will happen at some point. I actually have NO alcohol at home, but I may remedy that this evening. Or tomorrow, as there will be a few spots open for a few hours and I know all the good stuff will remain in stock thanks to folks who rush in, grab the first thing they see, pay and rush out.
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Go to the liquor store in the pajamas. Make it a Walmart Thanksgiving.
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Oh, if it were thirty degrees cooler out, I’d go strolling down there in that blue Snoopy set and no one would bat an eyelash my way. If I went out with the weather as chilly as it is now, I’d not even get into the store because I’d look like Ray Milland in Lost Weekend having a bad case of the DT’s thanks to shivering so badly I couldn’t even push the door open. Hmmm… that and I’d not be the first one to do that. I can recall one Xmas seeing some guy dash out of the store with some PJ bottoms on and a parka on top with a clerk chasing him down because he’d forgotten his change. I guess that guy forgot Santa doesn’t drink milk when he’s up this way. Or perhaps Rudolph’s nose wasn’t red enough (*hic!*)…
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