Thanksgiving comes early to Castle Grouchy

Thank You, The Great Indian "Oktoberfest" --  It seems I can like beer after all which has made me think about ALL the other things I've written off all these years (neatly labelled under "HATE") but should now try again. Pigeons? Math?  Driving? Relationships?

Thank You,  my very expensive and very gay hairdresser for inquiring if I am particular about the length of my hair and not waiting for me to reply before you chopped off my inglorious tresses. I wanted to hit you then, when you shouted across the floor, "Thanks for letting me go all the way!" but in hindsight, I'm a happier girl today. Every one's been complimenting me on my new look. Someone even said I was looked very pretty. ("Just like Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory") But still.

Thank You U.N Summit, for keeping me occupied and out of office for the soul-suckingly boring month that is October. For extracting from me a pound of flesh. But more importantly for making me meet Nadir. When you slipped into my hands the Prime Minister's speech in full sight of the rest of 'em, is the moment when I fell a little in love with you, heart of my heart. Why did you have to be married? Why?!

Thank You, Smurfette for that weekend.  All the luxury indulgence was much appreciated.  The morning after however was one of the scariest experiences of my life, courtesy of which, I'm going to be abstaining from aqua vitae for a long time to come. Oh, and maybe from bath tubs too.  Because this is a family oriented blog (Dafuq), I can't recount the sequence in detail.  (Just know that I almost did an Elvis and that you are very lucky I'm still here.)

Thank You, Smugface and NYT,  for killing every desire I've might have had for you both.  I never want to date anyone whose name starts with V. Ever. Ever.

Thank You,  networks of the world, for giving me back BBT, Grey's, Merlin, Vampire Diaries and everything else, now I have something to do while I wait to grow old and die.