(no subject)
For the official "Day After Thanksgiving" I'm at my gramparents. They're Italian, meaning more food, in about five courses, and in only about an hour and a half, and, more of my Gramma trying to convince me to eat meat again. "You know, Corrinne was a vegetarian, but she stopped after a few months. When are you going to eat meat again, heh?" Eh, what can you do? More of talking about my other cousins, who aren't here, and who have gotten their licenses and are doing fantastic, while I'm not.
It's just me and my three brothers, my mom and dad and Gramma and Grampa. So, I'm stuck on the computer, waiting for dessert to be served, mind you it's only about quarter to four... My stomach is stuffed to it's limits, though I think I could squeeze a bite of apple pie in if I'm determined. Maybe a walk around Washington Square will make me feel better, and help me lose the 300 pounds I've managed to gain over the two-day "holiday."
My gramma keeps asking what I want to do with my life. For some reason, maybe it's just because she's a Gramma, she can't remember what I want to do. So for the millionth-billionth time I've told her, "I wanna be a journalist, Gramma." And then she responded with, as she always does, "Well so do 10 million other people, what will you do if you don't get it?" I guess it's good that she's asking me this, but can't she be a Gramma and say, "Oh Sweetie, that's so great. You'll get it hands down," or some crappy, cheesy thing like that?
Dysfunctional, much? Sure, we are, but really, we couldn't be functional without the "dys".
It's just me and my three brothers, my mom and dad and Gramma and Grampa. So, I'm stuck on the computer, waiting for dessert to be served, mind you it's only about quarter to four... My stomach is stuffed to it's limits, though I think I could squeeze a bite of apple pie in if I'm determined. Maybe a walk around Washington Square will make me feel better, and help me lose the 300 pounds I've managed to gain over the two-day "holiday."
My gramma keeps asking what I want to do with my life. For some reason, maybe it's just because she's a Gramma, she can't remember what I want to do. So for the millionth-billionth time I've told her, "I wanna be a journalist, Gramma." And then she responded with, as she always does, "Well so do 10 million other people, what will you do if you don't get it?" I guess it's good that she's asking me this, but can't she be a Gramma and say, "Oh Sweetie, that's so great. You'll get it hands down," or some crappy, cheesy thing like that?
Dysfunctional, much? Sure, we are, but really, we couldn't be functional without the "dys".