Sunday, November 27, 2011

Gobble Gobble, Assholes...My Turkey Is Better Than Yours!

Reflecting on this past week, it is no wonder I am utterly fucking exhausted.  It's been too busy, too hectic, too retarded.  And here I am, dwelling on it.  While sort of watching some stupid show on STYLE Network with a chick who is a "hair fairy."  O.M.G.  WTF is a hair fairy? And why do I have this fucktasticness playing in the background attempting to lure me into its retarded, perky, trendy abyss?  IDK.  I really IDK.  But I digress.  


I had my very first Thanksgiving dinner, hosted by hubby and myself at our ghetto fab home.  With our newly-painted penis-wall.  That's right. I have a penis-wall. AKA, Cabbage Patch Ass, AKA, Foreskin Delight, AKA, accent wall that was accidental due to the fact we ran out of paint.  Up close it resembles flesh a la phallus.  Far away it adds a warmth to the surrounding ivory walls and crimson drapes.  Oh, and did I mention wall art? Can I just state that Bed, Bath, and Beyond is like THE mecca of decorating needs?  For reals.  For fucking reals, yo!  The treasures and troves that are held within the walls of aforementioned store are absolutely astounding and sometimes truly asstastic.  

So, wall art, dong flesh, and organized bookshelf aside, Thanksgiving was a HUGE ASS SUCCESS.  I owe so much to my bestie.  She is a mutha fucking goddess.  So much of the dinner's success is because of her.  I think I finally grew into wifedom because of her and her amazing time management and multitasking.  She is now officially my wife.  It's like a bromance.  But not.  

On the big day, I am happy to report, there was not an ounce of drama.  Sooooooo much different than what I had experienced with my own relatives.  The key to my success was not having my own relations over.  They wouldn't show up anyway because they think I live in the ghetto and they are just too good to travel the literal fucking mile to our house.  Let me just state that our home is really clean and homey.  It's not like we are hoarders or have roaches or rats or trash laying all over the place with shit stains in the toilet.  Nope. Not even remotely close.  I'd say our house is pretty damn clean and organized and really cozy.  I mean, here I am, curled up on the couch with my kitties on this dreary day, and all I feel is COZY.  I look around at the warm walls, neutral furniture, soft's HOME.  Now, if I get up and walk out to the front porch, it's a little different.  More like upper-lower class meets lower-middle class meets Old South End neighborhood.  Translation: it's an old neighborhood with that Ellis Island feel and it spans multiple generations.  Plainly put, it's a damn melting pot with people in their 80s down to their diapers.  We make the best of what we have.  Sure, the houses look a little run down, but the lawns are kept, the insides are nice, and the trash is picked up.  

We happen to have the biggest house on the block at nearly 1600 square feet, four bedrooms, one huge ass bathroom, and storage space galore.  I have a foyer, for fucks sake.  And natural woodwork.  Granted, the basement is uber creepy, but you can't have everything.  So, yeah, my family is too good for my comfy home.  They're all fucks anyway.  These are the assholes who talk shit about everyone behind their back and pick on people they don't deem worthy of their comfort, as in, hubby.  Hence, a huge falling out, virtually no contact since July, and no dinner invite for the fucktards.   Enter my in-laws.  Who are amazing.  Whom I love very much.  And my wife and other husband and other stepchildren.  And my own stepchildren.  It was kind of a hodgepodge and unconventional but it worked.  

After reliving the day, why am I suddenly teary-eyed and somewhat missing my own relatives? Oh, because they are fucks and have that guilty effect on people.  And I'm over it.  I guess you'll have that when you have your first holiday without people you usually celebrate with, get beat down by, and who have absolutely no faith in your success...yet they are the failures at life but can't grasp it so they try to make everyone else feel bad about themselves.  But I stopped the cycle.  I stood up to those cockblows and because of that I'm a stronger person.  I know that Christmas will be a mess.  I had no contact whatsoever with my parents; only my uncle texted me.  I am utterly convinced I mean nothing to them and for that reason, among others, they are dead to me.  The people who were supposed to teach me and help me through life were epic fails.  The people I never expected were the ones who became a true family and helped me climb the ladder to success.  God bless those bitches and rednecks and overall fantastical peeps who put up with the drama of my relatives, my bitching, my whining...without them I'd be an epic fail.

My turkey was moist with huge breasts.  Gobble gobble, fucksticks.  

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