As I write, I'm in the process of watching The Count of Monte Cristo; or more aptly, listening to English accents even though it takes place in France, and listening to the man who plays Jacopo (YAK-a-POE, a Portuguese character) try to cover his Ebonics accent. Lovely.
Getting on to business, like many, yesterday was Thanksgiving, and, like many, I ate the usual fare. I didn't gorge myself this time (another story) and I was lucky to be able to fill my plate with the staples: some turkey and tons of cranberry sauce and green beans. No bread for me: green beans. And after dinner I ate some scorching hot apple pie, courtesy of my microwave skills. But the important parts of Thanksgiving are what occurred in between the dinner, the football games, the drunken banter (me), and playing pool. I'll keep this short and sweet because I'm sure everyone is feeling the affects of a drunken Thanksgiving. No? Just me? Awkward....
I'll start with "the cute":
So there's a new kid in the family, I'll call him "Guillaume" in the spirit of Monte Cristo. Yeah, he was there, and yeah he's cute, if you like babies that sit there and do nothing but smile. I'm sick and tired of hearing the family say that he should try out for the Gerber baby and blah blah blah. He didn't even eat his food! He did not show the Thanksgiving spirit! And at 8 months I was already walking. So there.
The Bad:
My mother. We were playing billiards. I was winning. I step out for one minute to cut a sliver of pumpkin pie (a sliver, 1/4 of the pie, same thing...but really only a sliver, dairy allergy makes me keep it to a minimum :( ) <- there is no good way to make that.... As I am cutting my piece, my mother "gets two". I'm so flabbergasted that my own flesh and blood would cheat that I lose the game.
The Ugly:
I found myself talking about dentures for quite a long time. I don't know how it happened, why it happened, and why I continued the conversation, but what I've learned is that I should never get dentures because a)they fall out, b)they smell, c)they aren't the same thing as real teeth (no shit). BUT if I did ever end up getting them, I could always dip them in my coffee. Yeah...
Another ugly, I was forced to eat rutabaga (in lieu of mashed potatoes) which I'm not knocking rutabaga, in fact I prefer cauliflower mashed potatoes instead of mashed potatoes, or sweet potatoes. Still with me? So anyway, I told my aunt's husband (they've been married a year, both of them are a little crazy, not sure if that really makes him my uncle) that I couldn't have any because there was butter in it (which contains butter milk, a form of dairy!) and he looked at me like I had thirty thousand heads and forced it in my mouth. Needless to say, the rest of the night I was a disgusting ball of gas and runs. Woo hoo.
The Downright Embarrassing:
You might think that my next story occurred as I was drunk, but I must (sadly) say that it took place almost immediately upon reaching my aunt's house. I have an addiction to sparkling water. Sparkling water makes you pee more than usual. We get to the house. I need to pee like a racehorse. Trying to hide the auditory evidence that I am peeing like a racehorse, I scoot myself as forward as I can so my river will hit against the bowl instead of the water equaling lots of noise. My river decides to take a new route and jumps out of the bowl, onto the Brand. New. White. Rug. I watch in horror at the trail that is now running down the outside of the bowl before quickly scooting back. Thankfully, I was well hydrated and my pee was clear as to not discolor the rug...I also didn't see the need to continue soaking it up after two separate paper towels.
Whacha!
hahaha i think i cried reading this. kudos.
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