Thanksgiving Hangover

     I think I'm still hungover from Thanksgiving.  I realize it's been a few days, but I am still just wiped out.  My body adapted to consuming approximately 6000 calories a day and a constant stream of coffee, alcohol, and egg nog.  Waking up on Monday was incredibly difficult.  And when I had oatmeal for breakfast I could practically hear my body yelling "Hey!  Where's the sausage?  Where's the bacon?  There's no whip cream on this!"  It growled at me.
     An hour and a half later, it growled again.  There were no exotic cheeses, crackers, chips, and vegetable slices stoking the fire.  The furnace got used to being fed constantly.  Where was its constant stimulation now?
     This went on for the remainder of the work day.  I did what I could to get back to a normal workday feeding schedule.  Finally, I was home.  And that's when my body said "What's all this moving around you're doing?  I don't like it."  And clearly, it didn't like it.  Exhaustion set in early.
     9PM isn't my normal bed time, but the Thanksgiving hangover left me no choice. 

The Framily You Choose

     My Thanksgiving is spent with my framily, and we call it Drunkfest.  I'm not making typos here- my framily are the friends who are family.  And Drunkfest is just a more accurate representation of the extravaganza we put on for the holiday.  Ours doesn't just last one day, we put on an entire four day weekend.
     The food is always awesome, and it never stops.  Four days of constant food and drink.  To be respectable, we hold off on drinking until at least 10AM.  Unless it's a breakfast cocktail, like a mimosa, or an Irish coffee, or wine.  That gives us a solid three hours to line our stomachs with enough solids to start absorbing the alcohol.  
     We mix things up a little bit every year, food wise.  There are a few staples: Tom's rolls, Dani's pies, jellied cranberry sauce from a can.  We vary our turkey from year to year.  This year it was deep fried, and it was awesome.  The sides from sidesapalooza were a big hit, further proving the P7 rule.  And the dessert!  Oh, the dessert.
     There are always games, and they usually devolve into ridiculousness where teams don't matter and people just yell out the first word that comes to their minds, regardless of the question or game being played.  It's really hard to sum up the fantasticness that is this past weekend.  Luckily, most of it is on video. 
     There are a few stereotypical Thanksgiving things we don't do: watch the parade, watch football (except maybe one college game on Saturday, but none on Thursday), or play a Turkey bowl game of our own.  I like our traditions so much better though: group sing alongs (often at the table), dance party, and the British Hat Game. 
 

The Need To Spoil Mary

     I like to solve problems, and I hate to give up.  And then, even after the solution is found, I like to prove it can be done again.  And then often go one further and attempt to improve on the original solution.  This rambling preamble is in reference to helping Mary cover up spoilers in her blog posts.  I have yet to really find a reason I would need to do so, however, I got so enthralled by her quest, I decided I simply must be able to do it myself.

Laughter

There really isn't a list long enough to do justice to how great Mary is. Often the first thing I tell people about is Mary's laugh. It's the greatest laugh in the world. It's also a secret. She doesn't bust it out for just anyone. For example, we worked together for an entire year, and no one at work had ever heard the laugh. And I mean, THE laugh, not just a pity laugh for silly latte jokes. A few of them thought I was lying. However, it just meant I was special. Her laugh is so special it actually makes those hearing it feel special.

I wanted to be able to say a few nice things about my friend, but without, you know, spoiling it for anyone else. What if you, dear reader, didn't want to know about how right Mary is all the time? Then you should not read what comes next.

She's Probably Right

She's right. And don't even try to argue with her, because you'll lose. And even when she's wrong, she's still right, and she fucking knows it. Deep down, you know it too.

And now, a list of things about Mary. An expandable list, so as not to spoil it for you.

Home Sweet Home

Mary and I are from the same state. We lived in the same general region, and both attended The University of Michigan. Not, however, at the same time. However, her umich unique name is what led me to her during the great roommate search of '07. All I had was a list of names and email addresses, yet somehow I knew, with a .umich.edu email address, we could forge a friendship that could last a lifetime. Or at least get along well enough to share a bathroom.

10:00 PM

Nearly every day we had this conversation:
Nan: I'm going to bed.
Mary: Now?
Nan: It's ten o'clock.
Mary: It's only ten.

There were a few slight variations, mostly ending with me saying "that was actually going to be my point." It became a thing, because I'm old and she's young. I like to go to bed early, and she likes to stay up late. We are a lot like Paula Abdul and DJ Scat Cat.

She calls me Nanners

Truth is, a lot of people call me Nanners. It's one of my more common nicknames. I don't mind nicknames so much. The one I really don't like is Nanny. I hate that one. Mary tried it once. It did not go well. She did christen me Nannerpuss after the IHOP (I think) banana. That was cool. There were also a few vulgar nicknames in there; cunt-tits is one that springs to mind. Mary always wanted a nickname, but I often struggled with it. I would try to rhyme, so usually I came up with things like Mary-Berry and Mares-bears. I tried to just call her bears once, but it didn't make sense. It was kind of like I had a stroke.

Coast to Coast

Living far apart from people you really really like is hard. Enter G-Chat. It's a wonderful thing and it keeps us connected. It's especially fascinating because of our interesting schedules, we get in way more gchat time that adults really should. No shit, I'd estimate about two hours a day. Seriously, an average of two hours a day. It sounds ridiculous, but it's actually awesome. This way I get to keep my friend with out carrying around all the guilt of not living in the same state as her.

Writing Pa'dners

I'm not even sure if we've ever tried to be writing partners. It seems like such a good idea. It's a good idea for about fifteen seconds, and then you start realizing why we don't write together. Basically, there is a very limited market for hilarious suicide stories. If there was a market for them, though, we'd be an unstoppable team.

Stuffed Peppers and Spaghetti with Mary Alongi

Mary makes the best BLTs in the entire world. Stuffed Peppers are her favorite food, and that's indicative of a good person, I think. I miss the awesome simple food that Mary and I enjoyed together. Yes, Friendly's waitress, we would like to split the Fish&Chips platter for an appetizer, and then each both get an entree, and one of those entrees will probably also be Fish&Chips. And yes, of course, we'll be having the ice cream. Those were good times.
What's for dinner today, Mary? Popcorn.
Nancy, what should we have for dinner? Sausage pizza and onion rings.
How many orders of crab rangoon do we need? Three probably.
We should have our own Food Network Show.

I'm Doing Exactly What They Asked Me Not To Do

     Last month I started a post like this: You Can Never Go Home Again. And when you want to run as far away as possible from home, you can't really do that either. That's just one more problem with home.
     I had decided not to continue with it, because I didn't have nice things to say, and the downward spiral was going pretty damn fast. About a week or so ago a video went viral: the one of Graeme Taylor giving a speech to the Howell Public School board. Graeme decided he should stand up for the teacher who he felt stood up for kids like him. Graeme has a few things to say about what a rotten place Howell is. I grew up there; I agree with Graeme.
     The school board is pretty damn tired of getting harassed by people who feel the school board sucks. Their letter to the "community" is here:  Superintendent's statement regarding recent events.  He correctly identifies the harassment as ironic.  (I used quotes for community because I feel it is more a loosely bound group of rednecks than a real community.)
     It would be nice to know the facts, but because the events unfurled in front of teenagers, we will never know the facts.  (Yes, because teenagers are unreliable.)  The thing is though, even without the facts, I still think Graeme makes a damn good point.  The reason he so easily paints Howell as being "bigoted, racist, and homophobic" is because it has spent its entire history being just that.  It feels (or at least felt) that every time progress was made, some jackass ruined it for everyone by being stupid but claiming it was their right to be so.  Congratulations, you have the right to be stupid, and you'll die in Howell, most likely from a hunting accident. 
     I love rules more than most people do, or probably should.  So the teacher probably did break a policy and should then be properly disciplined.  But really, really, I dont think that's the problem.  I think the problem began much earlier than that, and it is the groundwork for perpetuating the bigotry, racism, and homophobia rampent in Howell.  The smart people get out, and the rest just breed.    

Chart and Graphs

     I have a decent amount of formal training in math and science, and my mind still works that way.  Happiness isn't just happiness, it is a function of some other thing.  For example, my happiness as a function of the day of the week looks a bit like a cosine wave, with a few imperfections of course. 

 My happiness can also be broken down as a function of how far away I am from work.  I live approximately 5 miles from my job.

 

This week is my favorite holiday of the year.  The excitement is palpable.  This palpable: 

Parks & Recreation: A Review

     I love it.  It's laugh out loud funny.  The pretty consistent critique is that season one was, well, not great, but season two really knocked it out of the park.  The problem here is that with a lackluster season one, people were not willing to give it another chance.  However, season two is nothing short of brilliant.  So much so, that a rewatch of season one will heighten the experience.  Season one was essentially a six episode foundation built for brilliant character development.  You can certainly enjoy season two without having seen season one.  At the same time, I think you'll appreciate season one even more after watching season two.  It may seem like a paradox, but don't think about it too much.  Just watch it.
     I wanted to post a few clips that I feel demonstrate the show's brilliance, however, all that are available are full episodes.  So, go forth, and watch the full episodes.  They're available on nbc.com, and Netflix Watch Instantly, on DVD on Tuesday, and some on Hulu.  Or I could act them out for you, though I don't possess the pitch perfect timing of Amy Poehler and Aubrey Plaza.  Really, the entire cast is pitch perfect. 
     My favorite episode of season two is Episode 10, "Hunting."  There are several layers of brilliance in this one, from a full understanding of the mid-western hunting culture, to the genius list of excuses one might use when covering up an accidental shooting.  I may have already given too much away.  Watch it, thank me later.  Claiming one episode as my favorite may imply a degraded affection for the others.  This is not true.  I love them all, and this review is quickly devolving into a giant love fest.
     I've made my way through season two several times: first when it originally aired on TV, then again on Hulu, twice through so far on Netflix Watch Instantly, and the DVDs will be shipped to me when released on Tuesday.  (The holiday will delay their arrival.  I'm handling it.)  It's a desert island series to me, and by golly, I'll be laughing out loud on that desert island.  
     Season three has been in the proverbial can for a while now, and finally it's coming back on the air in January.  I will not be available for phone calls on Thursday nights.

TGIFF

     Yep, I said it, and I don't care.  And no, it's not a typo.  The week has been long and tedious.  The impending short week and holiday have made this week even more grueling.  At the beginning of the day, Friday doesn't feel much different than the other days this week.  In fact, a co-worker said "at least it's Friday?" (emphasis on the question mark) and all I could say was "It's still the beginning."
     I don't look forward to Fridays for the sake of Friday.  It is simply what Friday represents: two days of freedom.  Well, that's overstating it- it's just the weekend.  But I love those.  This weekend's theme is preparedness.   It doesn't sound like a fun theme, but it will be.  I must be prepared for the holiday weekend, so there will be some mundane chores, like laundry and grocery shopping.  However, I must also be prepared for the massive amounts of food to be consumed, so there will be a decent amount of that too.  Plus, a few good rounds of laughter with an Improv show, the rest of Laverne&Shirley season one, and my thoughts.  I may even catch up on the news to make Thanksgiving conversation more engaging.  (I hear there was an election recently?)
   
     And in an unrelated, or perhaps very related, sidenote, I offer you this link to a video clip of Cougar Town.  Mmm.  Wine.