I am not the Goodwill drop off

Oh, my parents got back from vacation and you know what they brought me? Jack Shit I was going to be indignant about this all because not only did they neglect to bring me anything from their vacation and they said they would but they brought me someone else�s old junk.

Nothing excites me more about the prospect of moving out of my parent�s house quite like the idea of everyone in my family getting ride of their old junk and it ending up in my possession. The other neat thing is that if I move (the big, big �if�) I will be moving to the East Coast so they�re mailing this garbage here when they could a) wait until I�m there anyway and they make their unannounced visit b) mail it to the place I�ll end up living c) dump it at their own Goodwill.

Today�s old junk is Dead Helena�s. Dead Helena, when she wasn�t dead, was my cousin�s (sometimes called nephew�s because they call me uncle due to a 20 year age gap) grandmother that we don�t have in common. Helena was not in the Christopher Stewart Fan Club, I hope her ashes are dancing like Mexican jumping beans to know that I have her stuff. I probably won�t even use it. What would I use a punch bowl for? I think they�re dirty. Forget it.

I should get a digital camera so that I can take pictures of the real winners I�ll be getting.

I stayed home to watch their dog who was in one piece when they got home. I deserve something besides his medical bills for that. It goes to show that you�re just as safe out in the public as you are at home.

For the Record, I got very little sleep last night as his exposed vertebrae tale was wagging in my face, getting blood all over me in my dreams.