Dog Haus.

I'm feeling poetic lately. Not that I am able to write poetry, but that I could. Meaning, I'm coming up with interesting ideas in my head, or watching what other people do and reading what they do and wishing. I'm looking at the poetry in lyrics of a song, and wondering how they created them. I wish I knew where my terrible highschool poetry went, because that stuff was classic. Classic shit.

My party went with only a few hitches this year. First, people either got the date wrong (!!Marisa!!), told me I told them too far in advance for it (I'm to blame?!?!), or just didn't show up. No problem really, less food means more leftovers. I think though, I'm absolutely sick of green bean casserole. No no, I lie. I could eat more.

The turkey was the juiciest it has ever been. I used a bag which I did one year as well, but this time I followed a recipe online that had all this secret shizz like rubbing a lemon on the inside of the turkey and a handful of salt as well, or the olive oil and garlic salt on the skin of the turkey. Then I stuck half a peeled onion and some celery in the thoraxxx of the bird and threw it in the oven.

The person who was supposed to help me prepare everything bailed on me, which was to be expected. At least I got some potatoes peeled out of them. I think this weekend was another lesson learned. I need to, if I don't want someone to come, to tell them not to come. Because I can't manage having someone walk all over me especially if I know ahead of time that they are going to do so. How many life lessons can one learn before 30? I will keep you informed.

The problem is that I am becoming bitter. I'm becoming cynical, and the flowers are not looking like they used to look and the sunrise is being slept through.