Black Friday notes

Just a few words from my swollen, turkey-bloated self.

• I was having a brew n' view with some friends the other night, and I'd brought Sin City for us to pay half attention to while giggling like drunken teenagers. When the Manute character came onscreen, someone in the group asked, "Is that Ving Rhames?"
  
  This is where I found that alcohol + know-it-all is not necessarily a great combination. I immediately informed him, "No, that's Michael Clunk Darkin." Oh yeah...gimme another beer. It'll keep my mouth shut for a minute or two. Really, though, the alcohol is just an excuse. I talk funny when I'm sober, too.
  
  
  
• Squirl and Ichabod invited me to his parents' place for Thanksgiving dinner. Those folks know how to put on a party, let me and my fat belly tell ya. When it came time to eat, I sat right next to the kids' table, because I knew I'd just be asked to move over there if I sat too near the real adults. Ich's nephew, Tiago, was seated next to me and we had a good time chatting and he had a blast playing with my camera phone. Squirl arrived a little later than I did, and when she sat down at the table, Tiago looked up at her, then at me, then back and forth a few more times with growing confusion. He finally said, "Hey! I thought you" (pointing at me) "were her" (pointing to Squirl) "in disguise!"
  
  
  
• I think Marcia Brady said it best when she yelped "Oh, my nose!"
  
  Not to put too fine a point on how exactly it transpired, but...well...let's just say I received a very unintentional but nonetheless vicious head-butt to the nose a couple of nights ago. From my girlfriend. It's not broken but it's still tender. But it's one of those injuries that, when I feel a twinge from it, cracks me up because I enjoy the absurdity of it. Plus I can probably milk some sympathy points from the little lady (at least, until she reads this).