Now begins the struggle with Post Turkey Depression Syndrome. Don't get me wrong-- I'm super stoked for Christmas, as is most likely evident by this spiffy holiday blog makeover. But man oh man... so much food has been consumed over the past week. I shall miss thee, oh mighty turkey, and cranberry sauce, and pies, and cakes. Mostly, I'll miss the cran-sauce. I have an unhealthy obsession with it.
|Like, a really, really unhealthy obsession.|
I spent most of my Thanksgiving in a drugged-up stupor because I still had (and still have) bronchitis. It was a unique experience. It's a little fuzzy, but I feel like most of the dinner probably went like this:
If this was indeed the case, either a) I apologize, or b) you're welcome, merry relatives.
As my parents did not have any cransauce, we stopped at a couple Walgreens on the way home from Thanksgiving dinner, so I could further my lusty affair with that gelatinous Jezebel. The first was completely out, obviously, as it is the best side dish known to man. The second, however, had many cans. So I bought them all.
|I would never forget you, little one.|
As for travel, Mr. Biffles was surprisingly docile on the drive to my parents' house for Thanksgiving. On the drive back up, however, he was a holy terror.What made it worse was the fact that it was pouring down rain for my entire journey. I made a few more pit stops on the journey back home than I did on the way down, to try to placate him.
I decided to make a mega pit stop halfway through the drive, which turned out to be a terrible move. Because it was there, at the half-way point, in the coldest rain of the season, with the most annoying cat in the world, traveling alone with my bronchitis, that my car died.
I sat back, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. I was determined to keep my cool and just work through this horseshit. I was too angry to cry. "I'm an adult," I told myself. "I can deal with this."
But, I decided... maybe just one quick call to mommy... couldn't hurt. Just for... moral support.
The quickest train to Weepytown is to call my marmie when I'm upset. Even by my normal standards, I was surprised at how quickly my resolve to be a grown-up faded.
Usually, it takes me at least a couple minutes to get from lip quiver to full-blown break-down, but not today. I was tired, annoyed, sick and stranded. I could only manage loud, vague statements of discontent.
And that, of course, rapidly progressed into an indecipherable string of yowls that sounded like a mix between a mourning hyena and a frightened opera soprano.
Now usually, I'm not big on perfect strangers witnessing my total psychological melt-downs, but it proved useful in this instance. A fantastic maintenance man at the gas station noticed me losing my shit, and tapped gently on the window. He actually said "Don't worry, ma'am. I'm one of the good guys, and we're going to help you out." It was like a movie, except I was having absolutely no fun, and I didn't have any fucking popcorn.
He and his friend saved me unfathomable amounts of time, tow truck money and tears. After they got me running again, we were back on the road. Biffles seemed to sense I was flustered, because he stayed quiet for a whole four minutes. Beyond that, apparently, he owed me nothing.
Anyway, that was about it for my Thanksgiving. And while I mourn its passing... now it's Christmas Time! (Or, you know, Hanukkah time, whatever floats your goat. We don't discriminate here. I'll even throw a menorah and a dradle in the header for you. But as for me, it's Christmas, motherfuckers!) A time for shopping,
|Yeah... to my friends outside the US.. unfortunately, this is a real news story. We suck.|
a time for decorating,
|Why my employer continues to trust me around our front desk decorations, I'll never know.|
and a time for festive arts 'n crafts! My sister made this one last week:
|Jk. She made it when she was 8, or so she claims.|
Oh well. Happy Holidays!
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