A Quarter Life Crisis

When the Best Friend called and said that there’s this 32in television I must have or I’ll die and would like to have a partner in crime while I’m out getting this steal, I should have declined. Of course hindsight is 20/20. After a little leg pulling, because at the time I was still very much working slave hours for the Vancouver client project I agreed to be her wing woman, her stand in line while I tinkle woman, her grab that 30 pack of Rubbermaid canisters woman…you get the point. That woman was me.

I should have definitely declined the offer but I hadn’t seen the Best Friend in a month of Sundays and believe it or not I was in some ways looking forward to being sequestered in the yellow smiley face rollback prices store for hours. However, the Best Friend informed me that we wouldn’t have to stand in line for hours on end because this year, suddenly the smart stick hit execs, people would get tickets at 12AM on a first come first serve basis for the item of his/her choice and have to return to the store at 5AM to retrieve said item. Fantabulous! That meant I could peruse the aisles while my friend waited patiently to get her ticket then we could return to her house. Once at her home I’d finish my work stuff, catch some zzz’s and then wake early grab breakfast and scoop up her television along with a mess of other “Black Friday” deals.

All sounds wonderrific, right?

And since it did sound so fantabulous you know it was not! First bubble buster there was no exiting the store once you secured a ticket. Second bubble buster, after securing said golden ticket you were pigeon holed to a line for the remainder of your stay. And by remainder of our stay I mean at 12:15AM when we sauntered our happy tails into Walsucks we had to remain in line until 5 bells before we could officially purchase the television. This meant no going back to finish the mountains of work I needed to complete nor getting up early for breakfast, and y’all know I loves me some diner breakfast.

This would be beginning of the stank eye (o_O) for Black Friday and the end of my already on thin ice relationship with Walsucks. No matter I prefer Tarjay anyway!

As luck may have it, walking through the aisles of merchandise I was unable to purchase until 5AM (for whatever reason the staff had duct tapped tons of items customers were not allowed to touch during the 5 hour jail sentence) I happened upon some very lonely bar stools not packaged in 5AM tape. My first thought was genius, now I wouldn’t have to pop a squat on the narsty Walsuck's floor and the second thought was damn these stools will look sick (this is slang and means fantabulous) in my apartment…bottom line, two for one!

Side note: I was allowed to walk around because I wasn’t purchasing a ticketed item.

Upon my return, stools in hand, to the line the Best Friend had the I’m so not feeling this sh*t face. I told her about some relatively decent deals which seemed to perk her spirits and we began setting up our stools along the nearest display wall. Those stools must have had some kind of magic Walsuck worker power because within minutes some jerk-off in a blue smock came over to discuss the “stool situation.”

Walsuck’s Worker: Uh you’re not allowed to sit if you’re waiting in line.

Me: Is that in some type of written document…did you give notice to the people on the floor? I don’t think they got the memo.

Walsuck’s Worker: What I mean is you’re not allowed to sit on stools if you’re waiting in the line.

Me: Really?

Walsuck’s Worker: Yeah it’s not fair to the other people who are waiting in line.

Me: Is that so…is it my fault that none of them thought of getting chairs to sit on for the next five hours. I shouldn’t be penalized because I found a creative solution.

Walsuck’s Worker: Uhhhh, yeah ummm, well the only way you can sit on them then is if you agree to buy the stools.

Me (turning my head toward my friend indicating that I was done with the conversation): I’m buying them!

Do you think it ended here….if you do, you’re dead wrong!

The Best Friend and I share some smart ass conversation about people taking positions of no power to their heads. Before long we’re rudely interrupted by the Harleysville Walsuck’s Manager.

Walsuck’s Manager: You two can’t sit on those stools.

Me: I’ve had this conversation with your worker a few minutes ago; I told him I’m buying the stools.

Walsuck’s Manager: It doesn’t matter. You’re creating a safety issue by sitting on the stools.

Me: You can’t be serious? We’re creating a safety issue? We’re creating a safety issue?

Walsuck’s Manager: Yes YOU’RE creating a safety issue. If YOU’RE seated on the stools someone could come by, trip and hit their head on the ground.

Me (holding back a laugh): Whatever, you might want to tell that to the dozen or so folks who are lying on the floor making it impossible for other customers to walk down the aisles. You might also want to mention that to the other dozen or so customers who are sitting on shelves with merchandise hanging every so nicely above their heads. Oh yeah and you might want to mention that to the people who are sitting on boxes in the middle of the aisles. You know since you’re giving out safety advice. Oh and by the way, it’s also a safety issue to have people standing in lines for hours without suitable seating during the wee hours of the morning. Not to mention roping off areas, yet another safety issue. I could go on but I think you get my drift right? But maybe you don’t should I dumb it down for ya?

I admit not my finest moment and quite possibly too condescending to a woman who was probably old enough to be my mother. In my defense I was at my wits end with the stupidity of the whole Black Friday event.

Walsuck’s Manager (arms flapping and doing a slight bottleneck): What did you say? I don’t want any trouble. I don’t want to have to escort you out!

By now my friend gave me the please don’t get us kicked out of line we’ve been here too damn long and I really want this television look. And since I care more about my friend’s feelings than actually being right (as painful as it was) I conceded.

Me: You’re kidding right, trouble. Some people!

The Best Friend and I got off the stools and placed them along the display. After a minute or two of huddled sideline conversation between the manager and her minions, one walked over and stated that the manager said that I still had to purchase the stools once I checked out. I didn’t bat an eye until the moron placed the stools inside our cart to which I questioned where television would fit. No answer, but not really all that surprising.

By 3AM I settled down slightly. I mean at least I wasn’t the lady who got kicked out for “shopping” during her 15 minute bathroom break. She was escorted out by security at the behest of the Walsuck’s Manager. Kicked Out Customer yelled something like now this b*tch thinks she’s a Somebody because she’s making 6 dollars an hour and wearing a blue smock, f*ck that! I could be adding dramaticals here but believe me it was something like that. Standing in vain for hours really pisses people off…just a thought!

At the stroke of 5 a free for all pretty much broke loose. When the Walsuck’s Worker started to place the 32in television on top of the two stools they placed in our cart earlier, I had to speak up.

Me: You might wanna take the stools out of the cart before you put the tv in, I’m just saying.

Walsuck’s Worker: You’re right.

Walsuck’s Security Guard (pretty much appearing out of nowhere): Oh no these two(pointing at my friend and I) have been sitting on those stools all night and have to purchase them or they can’t get this television.

Me: First off Captain Flashlight I haven’t been sitting on anything all night. And if you were standing guard around here you’d already know that. Second you can’t make me purchase anything!

Walsuck’s Worker: Don’t worry about it he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. (turning to face the security guard) Hey man calm down and go back to your post.

By this time I’d already begun my walk to the front of the store to secure a customer comment card. Granted I might have added to the heightened tension that night/morning between myself and the Walsuck's staff but stoooopidity coupled with bad customer service gets under my skin to a whole other level.

From now on I won’t ever go out again on Black Friday and both Walsuck and Black Friday get the eternal stank eye (o_O)

It feels so damn good to be stateside and not only stateside but in my right time zone. To add insult to injury I returned home stuck in PST which didn’t help much considering all the frigging work that I still needed and need to do for the project. Work never stops!!!!!

Enough of the boring sh*t already let’s jump into some of the fun or almost fun or should have been fun but aren’t fun things that have happened to me since last we spoke. Side note downtown Vancouver absolutely fantabulous, if ever I went back that way I’d take a boo and stay at the Westin, not that tore down piece of dung the client had us in to save costs. Did I tell you how the first room had a bullet hole in the carpet? Considering the niceness of most Canadians it probably wasn’t a bullet hole, but there was large piece of carpet missing at the door of my room. While there I went to the Vancouver Art Gallery which inspired my inner artist…I plan to get back into sketching.

But I digress!

Returning to Philadelphia was a task that started out all types of well. I arrived early to the airport, without my ridonkulous manager, Texas, getting lost. For whatever reason he thinks he can read any map and know exactly where he’s going…most times he does not. I can’t count the amount of times we were “lost” right around the corner from where we were supposed to be. He insists he asks for directions when it’s necessary…yeah right don’t feed me those lies as I sat for hours circling a residential block just three blocks over from our hotel at 2 in the morning.

Anywho I get to the airport with about an hour and a half to spare. I dip into a couple stores to grab trinkets for my friends and familia that I’d forgotten during the trip and pop over to my gate. No worries, I board the plane and actually get about 4 good hours of work done without any interruption. It was a good flight, even had breakfast, a fruit and yogurt parfait…scrumptilicious!

Arrived at ORD aka Chicago O’Hare Airport a few minutes before schedule only to turn on my cell phone and find out my flight to Philly was cancelled due to inclement weather. WTF!!!!! This couldn’t be happening the day before the holiday, stuck in a foreign city with no turkey or stuffing or Wanders sweet potatoes! But of course it was happening.

Luckily somewhere over the rainbow…oh wait that’s the Wizard of Oz…anywho by some type of dumb luck or God taking pity on my poor soul, knowing I’d worked through all my clean pairs of panties on the trip, there appeared to be an opening on an earlier flight. Of course it was about two terminals away and I’d have to get my Flo Jo on to get there but desperate times call for desperate measures. As I rounded the corner I heard blaring over the intercom the last call for me to make the plane. Glory be to Jesus, I was on my way to Philly, booyah!!!!!

Even the thought of returning to the awkwardness of my situation with Mailroom Boy or the dying slowly “friendship” with The Spaniard wasn’t upsetting. I was just happy to be home home home. Under normal circumstances I don’t get homesick but for whatever reason I racked up a lot of Faith phone home minutes this trip. Maybe it was the extended weekend.

So let me catch you up about Mailroom Boy. I’ve been doing the slow fade. As slow fades go I thought I was doing a pretty decent job until I received a text from him on a late night tip a week or two before I left this last time asking if he could stop by to keep me company. Let me see are we planning on playing yatzee or something otherwise I don’t really see a point of you “stopping” by my place at 1 in the morning. Clearly the lines of “just friends” are blurred, to which I blame myself. I need to learn to keep my lips to myself. In my defense I haven’t kissed the man since the $14 incident and we’ve only been out once since then and it was a day time bust it up with ya homie type of deal, at least I thought so.

To add insult to injury the night before I left to go to Vancouver he sent me this cryptic message that said something like, Faith what’s really good with you? Sorry friend I don’t subscribe to all slang all the time and whatever he was trying to convey was definitely lost in translation. A part of me felt bad about this and to not look completely out of touch I just ignored the message. He followed up while I was in the airport. I told him that I didn’t answer because I was out and didn’t see the message until the wee hours of the morning. This was in part true. I was out late but I saw the message and was puzzled. In any event he texted that he meant to say more but he was drunk and can’t concentrate on two things at once….OK great!

Shortly before I boarded the plane he sent me another text message that said we need to get more fimiliar (note the incorrect spelling). And yes I know this makes me an ass but for whatever reason I couldn’t shake the spelling error. Don’t get me wrong I uck up some grammar and my spelling well it leaves something to the imagination but I try, when sending messages to folk, to spell simple things correctly or indicate my inability to spell the word by inserting (sp?). Now I could definitely be reading that fimiliar wrong but I took it to me something sexual….oh wait that’s NEVER gonna happen. Clearly he didn’t get the we’re just friends memo!

On to not much greener pastures, I’m at my wits end with The Spaniard! He’s pretty much worked every nerve I have left in my body. He totally doesn’t understand why sometimes I’m just really not in the mood to deal with his sh*t and why I’m not willing to be in a “relationship” with him. How many times can you have the same conversation?

Did I forget to mention that I’ve heard no hide nor hair of the impending divorce since his 2 month declaration approximately 2 months ago…but who’s counting.

Anywho he did take me to the airport for the final trip. We had a semi argument…I actually was being quite the female dog in heat but in my defense Mother Nature had my uterus doing somersaults. And honestly I don’t even feel bad about telling him he’s a liar and I will never trust a word that comes out of his mouth. I followed that gem with it didn’t make any sense why he even wanted to be back in a relationship we me because outside of extracurricular exercise we had absolutely NOTHING in common. He looked sad but such as life.

He made it a point to text me every morning and send little messages during the day which was nice…but I’m not impressed and didn’t respond to half of them. I guess he got my message or actually took that trip to visit his brother who happened to get in a narsty car accident because I haven’t talked to him in about a week.

I decided to delete The Spaniard’s number from my phone. The Best Friend said I should do him one last time before I sever the ties but my gut tells me that will blur the lines of this “friendship” even more.

On a related but different note, randomly Mr. Handcuffs, a cop I was sort of dating a while back got in touch with me over the holiday. I don’t anticipate anything jumping off with him but I am sort of curious why he still has my number considering it’s been at least 9 months since I last spoke to him. He told me that he moved closer to my apartment…interesting!

And side note remind me never to go shopping on Black Friday because I almost caught a case, that’s slang it means arrested. Somehow a 32in television for $250 isn’t worth getting a criminal record. Also Wal-Mart is an absolute piece of sh*t store and I will never spend another dime there. Don’t worry I’ll give more detail during my weekly rant, consider this a precursor.

If the powers that be are out there in the cyberspace listening to me rant, work sucks (I kid I kid, because momma needs her paycheck). But really work is getting to be the bane of my existence as of late (explains the week long hiatus from blogging). Not that I don’t appreciate some of the perks, frequent flyer miles and hotel points but what I don’t like, oh man what I don’t like is the complete and total interruption of my life for all things work inspired. All of Sunday and I do mean all (16 non sleep + some early Monday hours) were devoted to work!

Additionally I think Work is contributing to my all to frequent housemate Insomnia, but I could be wrong.

Yes yes I know I am a corporate ladder striver, but I am also a red blooded American chick who likes to kick off her work heels in exchange for a pair of get em girl pumps and hit the town. OK OK in Work’s defense I did have a hella good time Friday and Saturday night (thank you Vodka you always know how to make a night right) which could explain how Work kidnapped me Sunday and ruined my plan to attend the family bbq but alas, I need a rant and this here is gonna be one whether Work likes it or not.

Dramaticals…anywho I should have saved that business trip to LA for some other time considering that Model Friend came home for the Labor Day weekend (not like I really had a choice). As a result there was no tear-less, I miss you so much hug-fess (I am not a hugger by nature it really does take a lot out of me to conjure up a good one) because I’d just seen her the prior week. Of course Male Nurse Friend showed his entire a$$, this is really to be expected it’s just the kind of hand-job (excuse the vulgarities but he pissed me off this weekend) he is sometimes, and didn’t show for any of the welcome home Model Friend festivities. Of which were very few because well her trip home was about la familia, totally understandable. As the dorks we are we decided an early night bowling match and possibly a drink to say welcome home nice to see you have fun with the ‘rents yada yada yada.

Nurse Friend tagged along since well she and Model Friend get a long pretty well and I was on the outs again with the Best Friend for reasons unknown and well Nurse Friend is fun minus and we work well as wing women for each other, nuff said. Model Friend brought along her Equally Model Sister and for some reason bowling morphed into dinner when everyone realized we all skipped trying to make the 9:30ish deadline. Dinner was better because my stomach was rubbing my back by the time everyone arrived.

We ended the night at some in the courtyard type hide-out club in Northern Liberties (hipster up & coming neighborhood in Philadelphia) called PYT (Pretty young thangs, repeat after me I said Na Na Na, Na Na Na…I'll Take You There….oops digression). What I enjoyed most about this out the basement turned through the bathroom backdoor club was the DJ. Alllls yeah he played some pretty good blended music. When I say blended I mean a mix of the hip hop oldies but goodies and new school body rockers that had me and my friends on the dance floor shaking but not breaking what our momma’s gave us.

Side note both songs are equally dumb but a fun not gonna hurt no body dance song makes me smile regardless of my mood. I loves me some muzak therapy!

In any event that night Nurse Friend and I decided to meet up Saturday for service (I am not a Seven Day Adventist I am pray fo Jesus Baptist born and bred however my church offers multiple services so everyone can attend regardless the work schedule.) I personally prefer Saturday because it doesn’t involve the tomfoolery of gotta wear your best fo da lawd tomfoolery of Sunday. The message was on point and all was is well with my soul, which happened to be the hymn and one of my personal faves.

For whatever the reason we decided after service no doubt….did I mention the scruptilciousness of the security guard as we entered the house of the Lord (someone pray for me), to get some drinks. You know nothing like praying your demons away and chasing them down with Vodka. We ended up at Mixto some little Cubano/Colombiano spot in Center City where the waiter commented on the absolute perfection of my Spanish. Ah muchas gracias guapo que la práctica de vez en cuando or many thanks handsome I practice every once and a while. He wasn’t guapo but I can be a bit of a flirt or so I’m told. In any event we left there after some tasty drinks to a watering hole near UPENN’s campus called the Marbar. In deed Nurse Friend was correct. As the night wore on despite the alcohol the prospects grew shorter and uglier. Normally under the guidance of Vodka this wouldn’t be the case but ugly is definitely to the bone.

Sunday, as we know was monopolized by tons of work that I desperately needed to complete for the client by Tuesday. No thanks to my LA manager in answering my SOS e-mails begging for an extension given the IT problems I’d been plagued with for two weeks. My requests clearly fell on deaf ears. I finished the work thankfully by 5AM Monday morning but ended up missing the family bbq, grumpy tomato I think yes. The highlight or lowlight of Sunday whatever you wanna call it being accosted in the drive thru window of my local McStrokes by a cutie. This is not a good look friend…I am mangled looking like petrified WTF because I was trapped in my bat cave all damn day why in the good Lord’s name did this cute guy want my number, conclusion he must have issues. I did the double O fake out and told him to give me his instead.

Why do I take guys’ numbers that I have absolutely no intentions on calling?

When I woke Monday afternoon yes I said afternoon I loafed around the apartment doing absolutely nothing besides watching the Golden Girls marathon. It felt good for about three hours before I became restless and felt the hunger monkeys craving a greasy slice of Lorenzo’s pizza from this place on South Street. I dodged an invite from Mailroom Boy just didn’t feel like driving to his part of town plus he mentioned something about hanging with his daughter (not my preferred cup of tea) so I ended up on South Street picking up a slice. After waving hi and bye to Mr. Bengali, he still works selling clothing at a store on that strip, and taking the mental note damn he’s still hella sexy and without a doubt one of the smartest(which is sexier) men I’ve ever dated …but sadly plagued by circumstance (a little something called citizenship).

Seeing Mr. Bengali made me think of my lucky shirt and the reasons surrounding our break-up (age difference among other things). No sense in dwelling on the past, what shall be shall be but the man is hella smart and fantabulously gorgeous….hmmm rose quartz or libido…the juries out on that one!

Happy Independence Day or as I like to refer to it as the Happy Official Summer Kick-Off Day when everyone gets together and throws hot dogs and hamburgers on the barbie. Not to mention that my Uncle Anal always has a semi crab fest. In general I don’t like hard-shell crabs (due to the work involved with very little reward at the end) but it just seems like the right thing to eat on this holiday. Uncle Anal becomes slightly less anal during this time of year and actually allows us to use his outside deck for its true purpose, a place to congregate with family and friends….

So now that the formalities are over let me give you a brief weekend update, the beach totally didn’t happen, not surprising the Spaniard is all lip service. Tomorrow will be a day of fun as always with Mailroom Boy and I am looking forward to seeing the game, Phillies vs the Mets. Lingering thought I must plan a clever exit strategy for the morning if the Spaniard actually swings by tonight and unexpectedly expectedly falls asleep.

More highlights to come since the kick-off weekend is officially just starting…..

Last night is a bit of a blur stemming from the intake of several alcoholic beverages which landed me in prayer to the porcelain gods of Mr. Flushy. Yes I know it's not a good look for a 27 (using my real age on the blog shows progression) year old woman. Normally I am uber responsible, so responsible that people who missed the event probably won't believe I actually tripped over my brother's feet as he lay sprawled across the king size bed at the Westin.

Side note I included a few pictures from the party in collage form. Before hand I designated myself the partography coordinator but I failed in that position by early evening due in large part to the Ciroc, or the 151 or the Grey Goose. Maybe it was just a combination of the three. Oh one must not leave out the Champange, complimentary from the hotel. The sippage started at check-in, who knew I'd be greeted with a little flute of the devil's juice?

Most of my closest friends were in attendance to see the lush I became in a matter of a few short hours. By 11ish I entered the land of total oblivion. Good thing Nurse Friend was on staff in case of true emergency.

For some reason besides being overly friendly, extra flirty and dropping F-bombs like running water, I also have a tendency to throw things. I guess that's better than being a loud sloppy want to fight everyone crying drunk? The Best Friend claims, OK she's telling the truth, that I threw a pack of AA batteries at her. Not sure why she's complaining, granted I threw a pack of AA batteries at her but it missed her face, no harm no foul. By close of night I'd thrown, a closed package of strudel(it didn't get on the walls or carpet), pretzels, chips, a few cups and of course the package of AA batteries. No lights were hurt during my pitching tests.

Some time during the night I lost my cell phone but like magic found it just in time to send miss spelled text messages to folks who didn't make the soiree. I blame Nurse and the Best Friend for not paying closer attention to my actions after the consumption of so much alcohol. I'm grateful that no dialing took place.

Even better than no drunk dialing, my intoxication was somewhat contained. Concerns from the evening:

• What did I say when hugged up with The Godfather
• Did I make plans to watch football this Sunday with 21 Jump street (there's a reminder in my cell)
• Was that guy really 20 (shakes and holds head down in shame)

Next year I will be the designated friend keeping tabs instead of the strudel chucking slightly fumbling drunkard.

P.S. I hope everyone else had as much fun as I did minus the dry heave.

Hola readers, Merry Christmas. I hope everyone is blessed with a loving home and family to share the holidays with.

So here's the update, yes I did get the tricked out hoodie and a nice forest green sweater, not to mention the IPOD I've been hinting at, thanks to Wander, the Little Brother and Sister.

The secret's out. Finally Wander got to lay eyes on the most loveliest (I know this isn't a word, chill out) Christmas present...Sashas Fierce is in the house, partially potted trained and all. Isn't she a cutie butt? Do you know how hard it was to keep this secret from my mom for so long. It was killing me especially because she kept talking and talking and talking some more about getting a poochie. The surprise went over so well. She cried, it was special.

Overall, the day went well even though I didn't make cookies. Don't worry there's always tomorrow, well today since it's way early in the morning. Oh and I even shared niceties with the Man Wander Married. Someone should give me gold stars!!

Oh so I never got the tattoo but the Little Brother and Sister said they want to go so I imagine some time before the New Year's Eve event I'll get inked. Don't worry I will post some pics.

Happy Holidays!

Yeah yeah yeah I know it hasn't even reached Christmas yet but I am uber excited for the New Year. If I haven't slipped it into enough postings frivolously let me just come right out and say my friends and I are having a little get together. No it's not a party, its a simple little shin ding for a few people.

Yup people we are gonna get lit up for the new year and probably pass out standing up, just kidding I'm too cute for arbitrary drunkenness besides it doesn't go well with heels. For those out of the know I usually have about three and a half inch heels for most occasions but I might go four just to ring in 09.

Stay tuned I will keep you posted.

The news at noon reported that a 34 year old male working at Wal Mart was trampled attempting to open the doors at 5AM for a mob of shoppers. An ambulance was called and the worker along with multiple customers injured during the stampede were taken to the hospital. Once at the hospital, based on the news report, the discount store worker died, the exact cause is unknown.

Here's a stab in the dark, maybe being thrown to the ground and stomped on by a bazillion feet as folks screamed and scurried forward looking for Play Stations and Cabbage Patch Kids and Strollers and Car Seats and Ipods etc etc etc caused his death. That's just a thought. Honestly I never knew Black Friday was so dangerous. After building fast friendships over six cold hours of camp out in front of the super giant why would you be so angry that you bum rush the door. It wasn't like the store employee refused to let them in.

Wal Mart customers are obvioulsy of a savory nature much unlike the Best Buy shoppers who filed in in twos and threes garnashing smiles as they charged big screen televisions and digital cameras. Geez remind me to stay home on Black Friday and order my holiday gifts off the internet.

As we begin to embark on the greatest eating holiday known to the free world I begin to wonder if this celebration holds the same lovey dovey feelings for Native Americans? Yes people I too get my philosophy on from time to time and believe it or not I was but an elf sneeze away from changing my major to Philosophy. Thinking that pondering over the if a tree falls in the forest and no one's around will it make a sound just didn't seem like it would help pay back student loans. Do we really believe that trees make noise for our listening pleasure? I am the first to admit as humans we're narcissistic a-holes who believe the world revolves around our arses but come on trees are huge. Noise doesn't just happen for our amusement, or does it? See philosophers are so sneaky. Yeah not sure where I was going with that, so Native Americans.

Thanksgiving has always been one of those good timey holidays for me you know besides the drunken exploits of that man Wander married AKA my daddy. It's fun for all surrounded by plates of turkey and stuffing and gravy and mash potatoes and string beans and cranberry sauce (I just threw up in my mouth)and coconut custard pie and sweet potato pie and so many more high calorie items that pretty much clog your arteries leading to early death. And there you have it, maybe that is the revenge of the Native America. While we run around "celebrating" the discovery of America by the Spaniards (I have trouble with the term discovery, to find, shouldn't it really say realize) what exactly are the Native American popping bottles to?

Sure, I could be over philosophizing this to death. Without a doubt I wouldn't pop champagne living on a reservation in a depressing corner of the land my forefathers once owned. Those damn pale faces with their you don't have documents saying you own this land yada yada yada. Not to mention damn near killing the Natives off with your narsty incurable diseases and gun powder. In that situation I might very well resort to scalping, I mean what else is there to do?

Sometimes I wonder if there is an anti-Thanksgiving party had by Natives where every one gets to spark peace pipes and make up clever names. Oh oh oh I want to be called Whispering Rain. Doesn't that sound cool, cause you know I'm part Apache. Wouldn't that entitle me to a part of some podunk reservation or even better a stake in the Casinos in CT. Hells Yeah there's probably some chilaxing and bottle popping going on there whether it's Thanksgiving or not.