Apparently, it's Thanksgiving but I have very little to be thankful for because my date stood me up. (How dare she! She will never work in this city again. No one dares do this to The Nashman!)
Well, I don't really celebrate Thanksgiving as my heart goes out to Squanto and the Indians who lost their land shortly after that dinner with the Pilgrims.
But then again, past is past and we should all move on and get along.
I skipped alcohol altogether because if those American sitcoms/dramas/movies are to be believed, arguments break out during thanksgiving dinner. As I know too well from growing up in the mean slums of Baguio, alcohol and arguments don't mix.
I ended the night at the cellars with my historian and archeologist friends talking, oddly enough, about the fricking Smurfs. How this conversation degraded from the Punic wars, to Fraggle Rock, to Smurfs is a mystery considering I wasn't drunk or stoned.
