Man, my Thanksgiving break has been rad. Tonight iced the cake, but the rest of the (brief) vacation has been really excellent, too.
I started my break in my grandmother’s small southern town–where she used to be the mayor, (the only female in her town’s history, I might add) where I got to spend good time with my mom, aunt, and delightful sixteen year old cousin, who thinks he’s a thug now that he drives and has sex. My aunt is a brilliant cook, and catered to my every food need, as this was my last truly traditional Thanksgiving–no more laying on the floor, stuffed to capacity, breathing very shallow. It’s not in my cards after this year. So I enjoyed it properly. My digestive track is still quivering from the sheer amount of rich foods I ate, but it was totally worth it.
Then, I continued on to my hometown, where my father, stepmother, and awesome, adorable, hysterical 9 year old brother live. We’ve played a lot of games (Guitar Hero, texas hold ‘em and this thing called Triominos) and today, we decorated for the season. We got up early and went to the Farmers Market to pick out a Christmas tree (and I learned how it’s actually a pagan tradition that the Christians adopted as their own), and then descended into a Clark W. Griswold style frenzy of lights and tinsel. We rounded out the evening with a delicious meal made from the contents of their winter garden (plus rice) as we watched Elf–I love that movie, not gonna lie. Will Ferrell makes me laugh Every Time.
After I’d somewhat settled in for the evening, my friend (lets call her…) Busty, a former Rollergirl, called me up and told me her friends were having a party out in the county. I’ve known Busty since I was sixteen, we go way back, and she’s a good time. (SIDENOTE : the last time I saw Busty, we ended up shooting a lot of tequila and making out in her truck in the parking lot outside of the bar. The bar shares a parking lot with IHOP, and once I extricated myself from her single-cab, I realized that four patrons of the International House of Pancakes, seated approximately five feet away from the nose of her truck, had been watching The Whole Show. And what a show it was… Their pancakes had assuredly grown cold on their forks, which hung in midair inches in front of their open mouths). So I decided What The Hell? and I drove the twenty minutes to the county, and I had the best fucking time I’ve had in a long time, in a party full of strangers. I knew two people, so they weren’t alllll strangers, but still.
The party was themed…Dress Like A Rock Star…and while I had no costume, it was a pleasure to enjoy those who did. Kathleen Hanna from Bikini Kill was the hostess, along with her boyfriend, the lead singer of Devo (complete with yellow plastic jumpsuit and red Lego-stud hat). Axl Rose was also there…my personal favorite. Axl was a woman named Joe, that invited me to come on an archaelogical dig to Caracas this summer, to dig for ancient pottery–I’m actually going to look into the program. Apparently, her advisor was telling her they were facing a shortage of students to do this dig, so there’s money for it. And shit! I’m way into my art history class…I have a (meager) background in this stuff. There was a bonfire in the backyard–thank goodness, I miss living in the mountains because parties don’t include bonfires anymore, in my sphere–so I parked myself in front of the fire for five hours and had the most interesting conversations with these strangers. I had a blast…truly the best party I’ve been to since partying in Ashevegas with the friends.
I met a hottttttt latina who is the saucy combo of studio painter and butcher; we talked about paint and hog slaughterin’ for an hour and a half, while I drooled over her excellent fashion sense, well placed tattoos, and gorgeous bone structure. Eventually, we wondered if we were the same person, seperated at birth, split into two halves–in addition to being Very Like-Minded, she and I have the exact same hair (and interests). I enjoyed meeting her.
Busty then serenaded me with Baby Got Back over a sound system rigged with a mic, and we ended up making out on the trunk of my car, as it started to rain. Also hottttt. I had a crush on Busty from the day I met her–she was 18 to my 16, an already seasoned older woman who had just migrated here from California. We were fast friends, and spent alot of time together over the next two years. As a teenager, I wasn’t able to be forward about how attracted I am to her. Thankfully, that has all changed. We hang out maybe every year, year and a half, have a great time, and make out at the end of the night. A fifteen year old crush come to fruition…that’s a surprisingly exciting feeling.
My head is spinning a little bit right now, after the night I’ve had. Not only did I get to flex my rusty Game Muscles–a nice reminder that I can, in fact, be smooth with The Ladies–but I got to put myself into a situation as a stranger, which I truly enjoy from time to time, as I really enjoy making conversation with people that have no common frame of reference with me. That way, there’s no gossip or work talk. It’s refreshing.
I like gossip and work talk. Don’t get me wrong. But it’s really interesting and exciting to just throw myself out there, and see what kind of fish are biting. As I already knew, the Rollergirls, and the people who love them, are a spirited, entertaining, interesting crew. And I didn’t even have to get drunk to come to that conclusion. I didn’t have a drop of alcohol, and I still laughed my ass off.
Another thing to be thankful for–I would hate it if I had social anxiety.
