November 25, 2004


I try not to celebrate Thanksgiving as it stands, due to my heritage , thusly I mourn in rememberance of the Pilgrims' thoughtful gift of pox-infested blankies. So, I spent this afternoon in a gay bar with Miles and his parents, not drinking, wearing a shirt with wolves on it that I wrote "fuk the war" on in sharpie.

This fits right in with my other main Thanksgiving anti-festive memories - My 16th year, where in a show of punk-dramatix, I wore a long black gown to dinner in protest of the holiday. My mother made shrimp, instead of turkey, but the shrimps were not quite defrosted, and almost inedibley raw. I spoke bitterly about both the shrimp and my parents, my mom got up and left, while everyone else continued the meal in silence.

or the year that I spent the entire Thanksgiving week putting 4,000 miles on my car, while my best friend from LA kicked heroin in the back seat, and we visited everyone we knew on the eastern seaboard, trying to act casual in spite of her sick shuddering.

Or the year I cooked an terrible vegan dinner for Josh , Norm , Cayce and Liz . people with only their veganism in common.

Or the year that Britt and I spent trying to open a coconut with an ice pick in the kitchen. I only remember this because there is a picture of it.

By the way, if you are one of those people who do not know whata cornocopia is: here.

Posted by Jessica at November 25, 2004 07:43 PM | TrackBack