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spoils of war

Thursday I ate food, and wrangled everyone together to take the picture as I do every year.  They are always bitching about how long it takes me to take the photo, after eating my mother's food, but making them look halfway decent with anything less than a Hasselblad is frankly a testament to my dark magic and I ask nothing in return.  Friday I went to a wedding and got free beers and catering by John Folse (ooh) and then went to the casino and lost $120 on blackjack.  Everyone was saying how bad it was to gamble that much, but they weren't so derisive when I was up 200.  It's only money, as I told them at the ATM, all you have to do is remember the secret code and the machine gives you more every time.  I spent Saturday snaking my sister's toilet and getting her feces on me, digging up her yard.  I came home today and found my refrigerator died at least a few days ago, and everything has turned to liquid sludge slime.  My apartment smells like a landfill.  I wiped most of it out and have 2 ice chests full of Thanksgiving leftovers and fresh boudin and smoked sausage with no place to store them.  I had to run out to the ghetto market for ice bags and some hot pockets to eat for breakfast tomorrow.  I'll call my landlord tomorrow but he probably won't be back for days and will undoubtedly take time to get someone to fix it.