Well, I am home today. I wasn't expecting to be, but I am deathly ill, much like most people on my husband's side of the family. Someone brought the plague to Thanksgiving, which is the reason I am watching TLC in the middle of the day.
Can we talk about Thanksgiving? Well, Mr. Cutthroat and I go to his side of the family in the Midwest for Thanksgiving. I love the town from which my husband hails. If it had a place for me to work, I would move there in a heartbeat. The best part about the town is that every time we go back to his home, there is some kind of fundraising festival taking place. Thanksgiving is no different. There was an athletic boosters fundraiser for the high school my husband attended. This fish fry may have been the single greatest event I have ever been to in my life, and I am including my wedding. There is a wheel of holes and numbers surrounded by plexiglass. Then, the cowbell starts ringing. Then, the mouse comes out. You bet on which hole the mouse runs into. That game turned me into a degenerate gambler, one quarter at a time. I was screaming and heckling and dancing and cheering. How have I lived this many years without ever betting a quarter on a mouse?? Also, why hasn't this tactic worked its way into other fundraising events? There is no reason that people wouldn't bet on the mouse for a political event if Bill Clinton was holding the bell! Oh wait, there is a reason. The mouse sometimes gets so scared by people yelling and screaming (ie. me) that he has a tiny heart attack!
Rest In Peace, little barn mouse caught by an Amish kid. Thanks for winning me 5s of dollars.
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