Thanksgiving rocks, that’s all I have to say. My family didn’t have Thanksgiving ON…Thanksgiving…this year, because we were all too busy getting drunk and throwing free cups of water from fast food restaurants at stop signs because THIS IS WHAT YOU DO IN A TOWN SMALLER THAN NORMAL (Illinois).

However, we DID have Thanksgiving on Saturday (yesterday…). I was stuffed like a turkey after I finished, and it was ALL delicious.

Friday was even MORE fun than Thanksgiving, because I went shopping on that day. I’m sorry, let me rephrase that: I went SHOPPING on BLACK Friday.

Yes, I woke up 4:30 IN THE MORNING.

Yes, it was COLD.

Yes, it SUCKED waiting in line(s).

Yes, it was FUN.

Most of the time was spent pointing things out to my brother while waiting in line.

“No, get that one…No, THAT one…THAT ONE!…THE ONE SHAPED LIKE YOUR HEAD.”

We had it down to a science, really. One of us would wait in line, the other would shop, then phone calls were exchanged, my brother would show up, we would switch, and then I would get to shop while he waited in line.

Most of the conversations in the stores consisted of parents fighting over prices and haggling with the salespeople of the various stores.

“But sir, isn’t it this price? Not this price, THAT price, Noooo I SAW IT at this price! I’m trying to tell you that!”

All day long I got to see many people with varying looks of agitation and annoyance ranging from murderous to a particularly large woman who wore the classic I’m-so-pissed-off-I-could-eat-you-for-breakfast -right-now look.

It was magical, really.

Also this week I was successfully able to fend off the homework monsters AND one test monster, and let me tell you that test monster took a beating. Unfortunately, now all the monsters are eating my legs because I have to go back to college tomorrow.

I will probably be wearing the classic I’m-so-pissed-off-I-could- study-for-a-test-right-now look ALL week.

I haul the pizzas out of my car, and go up to a house in a respectable neighborhood (respectable = they don’t stiff me). After knocking on the door a few times, I stare around at this person’s driveway.

He has a rather large assortment of motorcycles of the coolest of colors decorating his driveway.

My father should be drooling as he reads this.

The man answers the door.

“Hello sir,” I start, and my voice immediate trails off. I stare, my head tilted ALL the way back as I look at a MASSIVE man standing in the doorway. He is taking up the entire door frame, his large muscular arms folded over his chest, a series of tattoos going up and down both arms. He slides sideways, ducks, and pops out through his front door.

At this point I forgot I’m even holding pizzas, and instead have to resist the temptation to get on my knees and beg him not to crush me into a basketball, BECAUSE HE LOOKS LIKE HE WANTS SOME EXERCISE.

“How much is it,” He says, his deep voice strangely soothing.

“Ummmmmm…” I say, getting over his appearance rapidly, I grab up the pizzas give him the total. He ordered three medium pizzas, so his total was probably around 17 bucks.

“I see,” He says. I look at his arms, and I get the feeling there is something wrong with him as he keeps on adjusting his large frame and moving his arms around.

Maybe he is restraining himself from crushing me into a basketball, who knows.

“Senny, NO!” He says suddenly, and as he moves his arms again I see a small dog pop its head over the man’s arms, clearly trying to lick the man’s face in happiness. He puts his hand into his pocket and withdraws his wallet.

“Cute dog,” I say, trying to keep the conversation going. Paying in cash usually means bigger tip if I can sweet-talk a bit. I stand on my tip-toes in order to properly see the dog.

“Yes, he is just a great dog,” He says, his eyes, which are now misted over a bit, are averted to his dog. He scratches the dog with one of his fingers, and the dog happily rolls around in his arms.

This is no ordinary dog, people. When I say he had a dog, he has a LAP dog. I can’t really find a picture of the dog, but I did remember the same type of dog being in a Yellow Pages Commercial:

Yes, that is a LAP dog. A very cute lap dog, I might add. The man fishes out some money and hands it to me.

“And will you be needing any change tonight sir?” I ask politely.

“No, it’s fine,” He says, his eyes still on his dog. He laughs and points to his dog, “Awwww look, he knows his daddy!”

“Uh…huh…” I say, stepping away slowly from the man.

“Have a nice night!” He says, carrying his dog like a baby and his pizzas stuffed under his other arm.

“Yeah, you too,” I say, and immediately turn away - I don’t even want to know how he gets back inside his house without breaking the door.