Holiday Spirits

Hello all,

I am writing you today from my parent’s sun room while they talk to my oldest brother and his wife about how prescription drugs are a conspiracy.

Mom: “I ‘m going to start to cut down on what drugs I take. I don’t think I need all of these. I think the doctor just prescribes what he wants to sell the most of.”

Dad: “Yeah, that doctor’s a quack. He’s running a cattle market out of his office.”

Mom: “I think so too. I’m going to start taking just my blood pressure pill. All those other ones are just not doing anything.”

I’m sure. I’m really sure he’s giving you sugar pills and placebos. If my parents are any indicator of what I will be like when I get old……kill me now. I want my life to be like Seinfeld. Not a show about nothing, but end while I’m on top. (Insert gay joke here)

Yesterday was our big family Thanksgiving, and it was followed up with a familial field trip to the local townie bar. What to say, what to say….there are just some things about my family I never wanted to know. I mean, down the road I know it will be beneficial to know that it’s more effective to snort some pills rather than swallow them, but I really don’t want to learn that from someone I used to play hide and seek with at Grandma’s house. Just so I don’t get any family members in trouble, I’ll just skip the immediate company conversation and just talk about the bar.

The bar, Donnie’s, I was expecting to be some dark corner of hell, and it could have been the day of drinking that preceded it, but it really wasn’t all that bad. My whole evening there felt like the first 20 min. of Moulin Rouge, colorful and hallucinogenic. Who knew that some magical liquid called “Windsor” would be my absinthe? It was band night which drew in an abnormally youthful crowd resulting in the most awkward and depressing high school reunion that I could have imagined. Luckily enough I was “budunk”, my cousin’s word for that place between buzzed and drunk, and every person I ever passed in the hall 7 years ago was now a long lost friend. I wasn’t too popular in high school so I was really surprised how many people knew my name, my usual response was, “Heeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy………………………yyyaaa,” having no clue what their name actually was.

There was this guy there from my brother’s high school soccer team that I used to have such a big crush on. My cousin said that he had heard that he was “homo”, so I went over to talk to him. He was a little bigger than what I remember him being and had a 4 inch beard, but he was still cute and had the whole Gerard Butler thing going for him. 4 years of college psychology had made him very sincere and interesting and we had a very pleasant conversation. He was playing in one of the bands and so I returned to my family table and told them what we had talked about and further expressed my interest in him. My cousin asked me if I wanted him to go over and ask him if he was gay/available. I never thought that this particular cousin would be my wingman, but in my world hell freezes over every day. So, he went to go ask him and returned within the minute. Apparently he was not gay and the whole proposition did not go well and the rest of the evening was spent dodging awkward glances. There were a few other gay people there, but they were a couple and had those big metal rings in their earlobes and pierced lips. You’d think that I’d be desperate enough to pursue that, but ear hoops, pierced lips; seriously, I’m not in college anymore.

Most of the day today was spent recouping and explaining to my nephews why I wasn’t going to church with them:

God is fake?

Gay people go to hell?

The Sunday morning show on CBS is much more entertaining?

I’m a little hung over?

All of these were options but I just told them that I had to watch the dogs and make sure they didn’t try to put on any of their clothes and have a party.