Thanksgiving for my family isn't what it used to be. Ever since my sister moved to Long Island and started her own family we no longer have a big family to-do upstate. Beginning with the first time my Mom left me home alone and went to Long Island when I was high school, it has been a tradition for me to be at random places on this turkey loving holiday. While usually at a friend or roommates house for the meal, this year I found myself with friends eating weiner schnitzel at a dive restaurant in Vienna. This aside, I am reminded of Thanksgiving 2006, when I spent the day at my friend "Jerri's" parents' house, in Hilton, NY.
I had been to Jerri's parents' house several times and was quite comfortable around many of his relatives, including his older brothers, his younger sister and his fun-loving parents! They all knew me as the guy who "drop kicked" their son and brother out of the closet at age 23 and always inquired as to what was new with me. Sunday dinners in Hilton were always a great time, but none that could match up to this Thanksgiving feast.
We decide before we go, that the holiday would be best spent completely wasted, so we pick up a few bottles of wine, hop in Jerri's bright red Pontiac Sunfire, light up some cigarettes and set the navigation system for "Destination Hilton." Jerri whipped the Pontiac into drive, and we were headed down "The 490" towards his parents' house and arrive in no time. While being whisked down the country-side and through the blip that is downtown Hilton, Jerri tells me that "Hilton is right out of a Hallmark card," his famous phrase that he reiterates every time we drive through. In case you have never been, let me tell you it's actually more like a ghost town, with the 4 corners anchored by a Hess gas station. Let him think what he wants is the mentality I've adopted at this point.
After about 3/4 of a bottle of wine, I start to loosen up around some of his more "traditionalist" family members who are in town visiting for the holiday, including his annoying "Uncle Albert" who spends half of the day picking apart Jerri. I am thinking to myself, doesn't he know that's MY JOB?!? What the hell? Somewhere in between Jerri's aunt discovering myspace, his Grandmother sucking down shrimp and dropping the tails in my lap and his geriatric dog "Mozart" sauntering up and down the stairs in search for his youth, I look down and I'm about two bottles of cabernet in. I immediately think to myself, this has already beat ANY holiday in Long Island.
Soon after I find myself at the dinner table awaiting the meal, with the bottle of cab at my side. I get up quickly to use the facilities only to come back to "Grandma" plopping herself into my already warmed up seat. My initial thought is "Oh hell no bitch" but in light of the holiday, and the fact that she is about 103, I decide to let her have this one. Pick your battles Sam, pick your battles. I am a guest after all, and I was raised better than that. [thanks Mom] As I reach over her walker and oxygen tank for my wine, Grandma chimes in "Oh, you can leave the wine." Before I can think it through I've already blerted out "Oh, I don't think so Grandma!" and I practically choke slam the bitch to get to the wine. No worries, Grandma suffered only minor injuries and I was re-united with the bottle of fermented grapes. Apparently Grandma had severely under-estimated my love for antioxidants.
Post dinner, tryptophan and red wine grogginess set in and we are all lounging around the sectional in the main living room. Jerri is receiving a head rub from his oldest [and gay] brother "Derrick" when his Mother asks him to run downstairs and get something out of the fridge, possibly an ice pack for Grandma. [kidding] At this point I take it upon myself to shimmy my way down the couch and place my head in Derrick's lap, for "my turn." Jerri comes meandering up the stairs, finds my head in his brother's crotch and immediately says "Oh, it's time to go!"
Before I knew it I was tossed into the front seat of the Sunfire with the last drips of what is probably bottle number three of red wine and some left over stuffing. Jerri's shock and awe starts to subside and we begin reminiscing about what a douche his uncle is, the look on Grandma's face when I snatched the wine from her grizzled claw, and how I am never again to be within 15 feet of his brother Derrick.
Oh, the holidays.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Sunday, February 3, 2008
why i am over dating
So, I decided to start a blog based on feedback given from a friend about a recent email that I wrote, originally just to my normal friend email chain that goes on everyday at work, that I ended up sending around to half of the people I know. When I started thinking about it, I realized it could be rather therapeutic and that my Mom often sends around funny anecdotal emails, so perhaps she has passed on the craft to me? We shall see what the first round of feedback is like and take it from there.
I know many people oftentimes think and say "this would only happen to me" but when it comes to dating I have been through quite a roller coaster over the past 18 months and I feel like I can confidentially say this after my last experience.
This week, I had a "date" that was absolutely unreal, and not in a good way.
This boy, who shall remain nameless, turned out to be a complete and utter gong show. What I have done in my past to be hand delivered such experiences in my life I do not know, though I guess I can think of a few things in my high school years that might warrant such punishment.
So here is how this night went:
Boy cancels dinner plans that were made during the day, after I accommodate by ditching my volunteer plans, that have already suffered several rain checks (note to self: this could be another one of the reasons for future punishment). I am disappointed at the cancellation (via text message I might add) but decide to take the opportunity to catch up on my domestic "to do's" which lately had been taking a back seat due to a extremely busy work schedule.
Boy calls a couple hours later to see if I wanted to "hang out" later on, which means him coming over to watch a movie. It sounded like a good idea at the time, so I graciously accept the invitation to hang out as I was looking forward to it after having what had appeared to be a pretty decent first date.
This is where things start to spiral.
Boy shows up at 10:30 p.m. (mind you I have to be at work in midtown by 8:30 a.m. and I live in Brooklyn) via bicycle with a 45 minute to-do list of tasks on my computer and an appetite for Kashi cereal, green tea, weed, a back rub, a movie, a cigarette, a hookup, and a bed that is available to sleep in until noon the next day, and in that order.
Topics of the nights discussions: Whether or not he can ethically round his 3.621 GPA to 3.7, how great swimming is (and better than my sport of running), how a cup of green tea a day will make you live 8 years longer (not sure where that cigarette and weed fits into this equation), how I need to move my plant closer to the window because it needs more sun light, how he wants children, but actually wants to carry them in his "detachable womb" which we should someday have if we can have prosthetic arms that function, and how he isn't looking for a "relationship" and sometimes is "into me" and sometimes "isn't", so maybe we could just be friends with benefits. I know what you're thinking, how chivalrous, right?
Other highlights of the night include me having to get out of bed to ask my roommates for a cigarette for him to smoke with his morning coffee, him getting out of bed to run downstairs to ask my roommates for a bowl to smoke his weed out of, being told that "you aren't very good at this" while giving him a requested back rub, and then given step-by-step instructions on how to do so.
The icing on the cake for me was, not only did he not wake up in the morning when I went to work (5 1/2 hours after we finally got to sleep) but I was alerted by my roommates the next day that he didn't leave until after 12 noon, and also not before making himself coffee, going through my roommates bedrooms looking for a bike bump and completely running down the battery on my laptop.
No "thanks" or "had fun" note, text or email. It's been about a week, and I haven't heard a word, you can imagine how devastated I am.
I swear, only in New York, and only to me. If this is karma, somebody is really pissed at me.
I am over dating. Sign me up to become a priest.
I know many people oftentimes think and say "this would only happen to me" but when it comes to dating I have been through quite a roller coaster over the past 18 months and I feel like I can confidentially say this after my last experience.
This week, I had a "date" that was absolutely unreal, and not in a good way.
This boy, who shall remain nameless, turned out to be a complete and utter gong show. What I have done in my past to be hand delivered such experiences in my life I do not know, though I guess I can think of a few things in my high school years that might warrant such punishment.
So here is how this night went:
Boy cancels dinner plans that were made during the day, after I accommodate by ditching my volunteer plans, that have already suffered several rain checks (note to self: this could be another one of the reasons for future punishment). I am disappointed at the cancellation (via text message I might add) but decide to take the opportunity to catch up on my domestic "to do's" which lately had been taking a back seat due to a extremely busy work schedule.
Boy calls a couple hours later to see if I wanted to "hang out" later on, which means him coming over to watch a movie. It sounded like a good idea at the time, so I graciously accept the invitation to hang out as I was looking forward to it after having what had appeared to be a pretty decent first date.
This is where things start to spiral.
Boy shows up at 10:30 p.m. (mind you I have to be at work in midtown by 8:30 a.m. and I live in Brooklyn) via bicycle with a 45 minute to-do list of tasks on my computer and an appetite for Kashi cereal, green tea, weed, a back rub, a movie, a cigarette, a hookup, and a bed that is available to sleep in until noon the next day, and in that order.
Topics of the nights discussions: Whether or not he can ethically round his 3.621 GPA to 3.7, how great swimming is (and better than my sport of running), how a cup of green tea a day will make you live 8 years longer (not sure where that cigarette and weed fits into this equation), how I need to move my plant closer to the window because it needs more sun light, how he wants children, but actually wants to carry them in his "detachable womb" which we should someday have if we can have prosthetic arms that function, and how he isn't looking for a "relationship" and sometimes is "into me" and sometimes "isn't", so maybe we could just be friends with benefits. I know what you're thinking, how chivalrous, right?
Other highlights of the night include me having to get out of bed to ask my roommates for a cigarette for him to smoke with his morning coffee, him getting out of bed to run downstairs to ask my roommates for a bowl to smoke his weed out of, being told that "you aren't very good at this" while giving him a requested back rub, and then given step-by-step instructions on how to do so.
The icing on the cake for me was, not only did he not wake up in the morning when I went to work (5 1/2 hours after we finally got to sleep) but I was alerted by my roommates the next day that he didn't leave until after 12 noon, and also not before making himself coffee, going through my roommates bedrooms looking for a bike bump and completely running down the battery on my laptop.
No "thanks" or "had fun" note, text or email. It's been about a week, and I haven't heard a word, you can imagine how devastated I am.
I swear, only in New York, and only to me. If this is karma, somebody is really pissed at me.
I am over dating. Sign me up to become a priest.
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