It's the holidaze. Well it's one particular holiday!
THANKSGIVING
pssh spanksgiving.
And we're all up in Upstate's snatch and it smells good (ughhh gross)!
Now any other liberal would take this space and talk about, indigenous genocide and stolen lands and misappropriation of history etc...
But not here, not now because, while all those things are true and are even more important to talk about; it's annoying.
Espesh if it's done stuffily (stuffingly?).
What I'm talkin' 'bout is delicious food in large quantities and fresh air and drinking at like 12 noon and walking up the next day at about 11!
It's about being with people that love you and that you love and being able to escape the city and walk around in the dark without seeing the constant lights from buildings and street lamps, only seeing the occasional car's headlights disappear, it's red back end winking out of existence.
It also about feeling a little bit of that loneliness that comes when you remember past holiday's and thinking about the people that you once spent them with and the next time you'll see them.
It's also about obscenely stuffing your face with as much Glazed Ham as humanly possible. I almost wrote Glazed Hamm which would also be delicious in amore erotic kinda way; possibly (definitely) stickier.
At the end of my second heaping helping (ole school 'lliteration) o'ham/garlic mashed potatoes/cranberries sauce/biscuits, I swore off of food.
Until the coffee/pumpkin cheesecake/walnut cookies came out.
GAME ON my friends
GAME ON.
And this left use around 7 in the evening which lead to much beer and wine and cognac with much playing of card games!
Rummy!
Who a new a game that's almost essentially for old white ladies would be somemuchfun?
Well maybe not so surprising since THANKSGIVING is a holiday essentially celebrating old white people! (<----- political!)
Then a nice little walk near some woods, where if we had somehow stubbled into a scary movie I would most certainly be the first to die. Not because I'm a double minority but because I'm a slutty double minority. I was excited and I ran to the cemetery, grabbed Mr. 6'4'' and started getting my mack on.
This would be the point on the story, when I would stop and say, "What did you here that?" (which I did say)
Mr. 6'4'' "wonkster stop playing around"
"no seriously, wait here" (which I did say)
I would walk up the hill closer to woods, flashlight in hand, leaving Mr. 6'4'' behind no flashlight but safer near the road. I would turn back flashlight point at Mr. 6'4''. All of a sudden there would be a rustle and a rush my light would go out, the sound of tearing flesh whether by instrument, teeth or claws (depending on the genre) would be heard, I would be dead and Mr. 6'4'' would be left alone to run back to the house and see how the rest would play out.
But it didn't happen that way.
BECAUSE IT'S THANKSGIVING
duh
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