And can you live with what you know about yourself, when you're all alone, behind closed doors, the things we never said but were always right there?

Well, the weather outside is shitty. I'm supposed to go out tonight, and supposedly everybody else between the ages of 21 and un(happily)married will be doing the same. I took $300 from under my mattress and spent $219 on license plates for my car. This leaves me with more money than I'd like to spend tonight. Now and then I pride myself on my self-control, but the feeling is too familiar: looking to keep the good times going, then glancing down at a full wallet. This doesn't last long, of course, as nothing ever does.
This is old news. What else..? I'm about to eat a twinkie. That's cool. This new fascination with twinkies comes from Eric buying them at the gas station, and Zombieland-- if a man risks life and limb in a post-apocalyptic world for the sake of enjoying a twinkie, I shouldn't take them for granted when they're at my disposal.
Uh... huh. I'm at a loss. I brought nothing to do, the shop is nearly empty and I'll be surprised to have a customer in the next hour.
I guess I could talk about why I look forward to Thanksgiving being over, right? Right.
My dad is very conservative. It may have been rational or commonplace at a time, but now... Well, now rationality and commonplacity are tied very closely to geography or geographic regions or something. Anyways, my dad would probably be the coolest, most level-headed person on the block in rural Arizona. Unfortunately for almost every party involved, he lives in Chicago. Here he can come off as ridiculously self-righteous. He also frequents the air-time that is occupied by Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity. So there's that. My aunt and her new husband get along very well with my dad, as do my grandparents. Meanwhile, my cousin Greg is a suave, young lawyer in the South loop who voted for Obama (he's also like 6'8, which used to impress me beyond belief until I crossed the 6' mark). I don't know how my other two cousins feel about the whole situation, but I'm usually left feeling isolated and disenfranchised and waiting to drive back to Chicago. Actually, I don't remember ever not smoking cigarettes on Thanksgiving... how else could I sneak away and pass the time?
Oh, and to make matters worse, my uncle lives with my grandparents. Doesn't sound too bad, right? Here it is: I don't know if my grandparents could ever enjoy a cold beer, or maybe a heavy, delicious German beer with Thanksgiving dinner, but the whole idea of drinking is taboo now that my alcoholic uncle (who was recovering, but may have slipped back again) is lingering upstairs. Just saying: everyone I know loves Thanksgiving because it involves quality, drunken time with family members that aren't usually around.
I suppose this is as good a time as any to step outside and dwell in self-pity for a few minutes. Be right back.

Back. It's cold out. And raining. Tonight might be soggier than I had hoped.