The Thanksgiving Game

Bleh, it's Sunday. Early, early Sunday. Maybe I shouldn't have had that five-hour nap yesterday.

I feel like all I've done for three days is eat and play World of Warcraft. Wait... I think that is all we've done here. Except for reading breaks and the part where I cleared space for the Christmas tree (but did not actually put it up).

I realize that, to some people, this will seem kind of sad. So, here, let's not hold back: we also watched all of The Thorn Birds. On... on... on the Lifetime Movie Network.

There, now we're all sad.

Actually, The Thorn Birds - book and movie - was a recurring guilty pleasure of my teen years, so I was pleased to accidentally get sucked into it again after all this time. The actual sad part, aside from having to admit that I watched the Lifetime Movie Network (a fact that my DVR probably reported to the powers that be), is that the story doesn't have the same power it did 25 years ago.

Oh, I teared up over Stu and shook my head ruefully when Meggie turned her back on Father Ralph's pleading, outreached hand, but otherwise? With the wisdom of almost four decades under my belt, Richard Chamberlain's facelifts and friendships (with Dorothy) get in the way of lust. And - ew - the instant soulmate connection between the priest and the young girl is just skeevy now.

Not to mention that I now notice that almost everyone in the miniseries has an American accent, despite most being from Australia, New Zealand, or Ireland. Our heroine sounds as British as the actress Rachel Ward playing her, which I guess can be excused, but otherwise Bryan Brown has to be enough Aussie for everybody. Only Christopher Plummer, a Canadian, manages to nicely put on an (Italian) accent. (Did everyone else already know that Amanda Plummer is his daughter?)

Believe me, I hope to go my whole life without hearing Mare Winningham say "Crikey" again.

So, fighting alongside Thrall in the Undercity and eating all kinds of lovely food (all made by other people, except for an experimental potato gratin I talked Mike through last night), and reading, and doing a bit of housework, and a heavy rotation of cuddling the hamsters - this has pretty much been the whole weekend. The best part may have been the two days of rain, but things are disgustingly blue and sunny again.

I have a feeling I should've done more with the holiday weekend, which isn't like me. I always try to embrace opportunities for sloth with no regrets. What's with the baaaa face?

All I wanted to do was play the game. Is it because of the new expansion, or is it because I'm addicted to a consequence-free social environment with numerous opportunities for recognition, reward, and advancement?

Is it because something is lacking in my life, or is it because the week before T-Day was spent doing too much?

Who knows? I fear that any introspection toward the answers would interfere with grinding rep with the Oracles. Proto-whelps aren't going to hatch themselves, you know.

Stupid Sundays. I guess I'll have to shower and change my T-shirt.

Comments

[Summer]

Mr. Chamberlain has stated in the past that he has not had a facelift ... do you have information to the contrary or rumoring?

[Shari]

I'm just babbling - Chamberlain's never asked me for a ride home from the nippy-tucky clinic or anything.

In the crazy language in my head, "facelift" is the same thing as "obvious attention to bodily upkeep." As someone who lives in the desert and no longer moisturizes, just using a facial scrub would probably count as suspiciously unnatural. I do apologize for contributing to the rumour mill through lazy language, though. :)