Thanks a lot.

With all the tough times right now, and probably ahead as well, many people will have to dig deep to find things that they can say they're thankful for this Thanksgiving. But in the spirit of the holiday, I'll give it a shot, without getting all sentimental and crap. I mean, sure, I'm thankful for my kids and their health, I'm thankful for my family and friends, blah, blah, sentimentality...Oh yeah, I'm thankful that I have a job, a good job, that I really like...(You reading this TMX?)

But what about those other things? You know, the small things that make life more interesting. Well, here's my fervent prayer of thanks:

Dear Lord, thank you for my mother's uncanny ability to never cease to amaze me. Not by any herculean efforts or wondrous deeds, mind you. No. I'm thankful that she's a bottomless pool of priceless witticisms that provide me with lots of stories to tell. Like the other night, she was talking about a distant relative that died at the age of 52. She said, "Well, you know, he smoked like a fish." What do you say to that? I asked what kind of fish smokes that much.

Thank you for granting me kids that hate the Jonas Brothers. I didn't expect my son to be caught up in that putrid preteen pop that is sending girls into a frenzy. But I'm really happy that my daughter turns her nose up at the madness. Sure, she's into Hannah Montana and the whole High School Musical insanity, but I'm glad I don't have to hear any of that Jonas Brothers slop as well. Hell, she'd rather listen to the Rocky Horror Soundtrack, and I'm pretty damn thankful for that.

Thanks for the washer and dryer in my apartment. I know you didn't put them there, you have bigger fish to fry (smoking fish, maybe?) But thanks for giving the landlord the foresight to do so. I've been to laundromats and they are the gathering place for every person who has had bed mites at least once in their lives, along with a friend or relative in prison for murder, a home on wheels or one that should be, or has shit stuck in their teeth from dinner...two weeks ago. That is, at least for the laundromats I've been in. Other people may have a different experience. They may be thankful for the fact that their laundromat attracts Home and Garden readers looking to launder their fine garments, while sipping soy double non-fat chai mocha-frappe-lattes from Starbucks. Bully for them.

I'm thankful that I don't have a third nipple. That's just damn weird. Why would you do that to some people, God? Do any of the Jonas Brothers have third nipples?

God, I'm thankful that you had the foresight to create cheese. I really like cheese. The other night, I was in a supermarket, trying to decide what cheese to buy. Should I go with the sharp New York cheddar, or the Colby? Such decisions are never to be made on an empty stomach, because I wound up buying both, and since I'm the only one living full-time in my apartment, I now have two bricks of cheese in my fridge for no one else but me. I'm sure I'll manage to get through them, but I'm not sure what will come first. I'll either run out of crackers or my colon will be bound up tighter than a geisha's feet. So, also, thank you for Fiber One cereal.

Thank you for allowing me to realize if I smell funky. I assume I don't, since no one has told me that I do smell funky. I got on the train the other day and a guy sat down three rows ahead of me. Notice, I said three rows. Not next to me or directly in front or behind me. But three rows ahead. He was a pretty normal looking guy, not your lawyerly type, but not a some sort of street dweller either. But he had a smell. It wasn't the BO smell of a rotten onion that's been under the counter at a hoagie shop smell. It was more like a moldy closet full of old pee diapers kind of smell. Anyway, I'm thankful I don't smell like that.

Finally, thanks for helping me get through another posting on my blog. I really, truly want to write more, and I plan on being more frequent with my updates. I'm just thankful that people seem to enjoy what I write. At least I think so. Actually, I hope so. I'm kind of afraid that if I don't have people reading what I write, I'll wind up sleeping in a laundromat, smelling like bad cheese and smoking like a fish. And we don't want that, do we?

Amen.

Happy Thanksgiving and all the best to you and yours. Whatever yours may be.