This is not a Thanksgiving post. This is the Post Thanksgiving Post. It's the latest thing in posts. Really. You can look it up.
For starters, Friday I visited my local salon for a bottle of their Blond Be Gone and a haircut. Note, my instructions included "matching it up to my natural color" but that I "DID NOT WANT ANYTHING RED". Or REDDISH. Or RED HUED. Nothing in the Red fam. Don't even THINK about sneaking an auburn by me. I'm sure the stylist's head exploded because the two aren't exactly mutually exclusive. This will be come to haunt me later.
After I got my hairs did, I stopped by my sister Kate's. Her first words were, "wow, there's a lot of red." I emphatically denied that there was, suggested that she must've been blind, stupid or just plain mean because clearly there is no red in my hair....at best, it was "just the light". She would not relent on her claim and I then proceeded to throttle her. No, really, I took her by the arms and shook her until she took it back. "TAKE IT BACK!" said I. "SAY IT'S BROWN! SAY IT'S BROWN!!!!!" I think I worked her down to a "whatever, but it does have red in it." Yep, she is getting a crappy Christmas gift.
I got home, Mike pretty much says the same thing. Hmmm, it appears I will be saving a lot of cake on Christmas gifts this year.
To prove my point of how the people in my life who supposedly love me are in fact, downright cruel, here are a couple of shots of me before heading over to Meg & Tim's Saturday night:
Do you see ALL THIS RED that they speaketh of??? Interesting, me neither.
So off to Meg & Tim's we were - me, Mike and my BROWN hair.
One of the first questions I got was would I like something to drink ("oh, WOULD I!?")and we got the usual selections presented to us and I was gonna go with wine. As I was thinking I was getting wine, Meg asked, "OH! Do you want a poinsettia?" and I'm all, "uh, SURE!" thinking, "hey, that'll spruce up the place for the holidays....boy, this party sure is fancy if they're handing out plants....they must've gotten a bunch when they were selling Christmas tree for the Lions Club or something" I totally spaced that it's "not just another pretty shrubbery" but also a drink that combines champagne and cran. So, to cover my embarrassment, I had about eighteen of them. This is what you do.
The dinner table was very fancy. Almost too pretty to eat at even. Hopefully Meg will post the pictures of it on her site which I "made"/suggested she do (and also made/suggested she light the candles for the full blown Martha Stewart effect).
The "Special Guests" of the night were newlyweds Chris and Tim, who came in all the way from St. Louis and are now expecting a baby in the Spring. This meant we hung out with a sober Chris. Who did things like drink MILK. MILK! To the shock of absolutely no one, she still brought IT. "IT" in this case being her BOOBS (holy crap). Yes, the girls talked of boobs and the boys talked of balls. Just like God and nature intended.
Also, after eighteen poinsettias, you will propose to yourself at the dinner table with the sparkley star napkin ring. And then you will propose to the people next to you. You will say things like, "you make good wife." This is what you do.
Anyway, the party was awesome and we did things like:
and be Merried.
And, what was coined a "A Thanksgiving miracle!", Colleen told us about how ComCast has karaoke. Free. A few songs that I can recall being belted out were: "If I had a $1,000,000", "Let's Talk About Sex", "Oh My Darlin' Clementine", the Buffalo Roam song (you know, the usual. if anyone else can remember the songs, help me out here.) By the way, even with the words written out, RAPPING IS F'N HARD. I think Jer was the only one that could keep up. Yeah, the boy from Ohio who didn't even have a TV growing up. Who knew?
Oh, and also the true mark of any successful soiree?
That's salt soaking up the wine spillage (not done by me! At least, I am pretty sure). By the end of the night, both sides of the coffee table looked like this. We are never getting invited back, are we?
I noticed since I've been collecting photos with my big, fancy digital camera, I seem to have amassed a sort of collection of people flipping me off. Lovely.
So, in the spirit of "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em":
Oh the way out, the hair subject will come up again, like I said it would, and Tim will say to me, "it's red" and I will repeat "it's not red". You know that scene in Good Will Hunting where Robin Williams is in his office with Matt Damon trying to break him down with his famous, "It's not your fault....It's not your fault....It's not your fault"? Well, we both tried to take on the Robin Williams role to see who'd snap first. Yeaaaaaah, that prize went to me. A little synaptic break, I did. Then I proceeded to tackle a guy twice my size [See: eighteen poinsettias]. Also, don't let the pearl encrusted cardigan fool you. I street. Compton? South-side Chicago? Bronx? A child's Romper Room compared to where I comes from (uh, "yo"). Vernon, CT. You can look it up. It hardcore. Any high school with a Vo-Ag program? For reals? C'mon, "4-H in the Hizzouse", bizyatches. DON'T MESS WITH THE RAMS, FO' YOU WILL GET THE HORNS! (serious, The Rockville Rams. I kid you not). Maybe someone can buy me a Miss Manners book for Christmas. Or maybe a brain. Because if I HAD had a brain, instead of tackling the host, I could have asked for a doggie bag. (some goooood eatin')
Anyway, if you're interested is silly Post Thanksgiving shenanigans complete with hooligans (Irish and otherwise), go to Flickr.