...or are you just excited to see me?

Gents, if you want a blowjob grab a bowl full of leftover Thanksgiving mashed potatoes and smear them on your penis...because if your wife, girlfriend or woman you picked up last night likes mashed potatoes as much as I do you will surely be greeted nicely, if not a tiny bit greedily.

Happy Leftover Day,

Love John and Melina

Posting has been minimal because a) I'm a little lazy and b) we are prepping for our second Thanksgiving together! For the second time we're gathering both of our families at our little home. It's an amazing feat that our families seamlessly and seemingly effortlessly all contribute items until we have absolutely everything we need. John has consulted with his TV girlfriend Nigella Lawson and found a recipe for his turkey brine...I'll be the first to admit I had no idea what brine was, nor did I recognize half of the spices and herbs that he placed on his shopping list. But now after seeing the madness that is a tupperware storage container filled with turkey and his assorted spices, I understand.

John is giddy with the responsibility of his very first turkey. He's a rare breed of man that I've married; he seems to be perfectly happy to be cooking while I am perfectly happy to watch him. I firmly stand by the rule that I will never cook anything that has a body cavity still intact. Gross. I will instead contribute a spinach and artichoke dip that never fails to please, it will be promptly on the table for consumption as soon as our hungry guests arrive. Mom will bring a ham because she knows that her princess finds turkeys alarmingly too large to eat (don't ask me what my deal is, I can handle chickens but turkeys are just too damn big to eat!! Weird phobia of big birds I suppose). John's mom will contribute pies, greenbean casserole and probably two or three surprise items while his sister will be making scrumptious mashed potatoes and lasagna (God bless the Italian side of my new family! More food options for me!) Everyone chips in and everyone makes something so mouthwatering that I may have to run out and buy a pair of elastic waist jeans, you know that I'd rock them...um no, I don't suppose anyone really can rock them.

On a related tangent...
Tonight is Thanksgiving Eve, two years ago tonight I met John for the first time. Typically on Thanksgiving Eve, I hit the bars with a vengeance and pay for it the entire Turkey Day...this year I am proud to say that I told John that I would cart his ass around town to the three local bars so that he can catch up with all of his old friends. He surprised me by saying that he really wasn't interested in going out. Then because we are both awesomely exciting, we took naps...he's still snoring over there so who knows if he'll change his mind after he wakes up recharged. You can read about previous nightmares/Thanksgiving Eves here and here and here (there are other more exciting posts but I can't find them...check the archives). Somehow I managed not to write about how I didn't wake up until 2pm when the first guest arrived last year...yes, my husband thought it would be best to let me sleep it off. I woke up with an elephantine hangover and suffered a thousand comments about how I looked a little under the weather. I vow to look at least alive for tomorrow.

I am completely thankful for John, Frankie, my mom and her boyfriend, my entire new family, Baby G, my friends, the Internets and all of you who read my sporadic ramblings. Have a great holiday and give a smooch to the person you love.

When you're hosting Thanksgiving for 13 family members it might be wise to replace the two couches that you and your husband broke while having sex. It saves the awkward explanation why the one cushion is ripped open and pulled away from the back of the sofa and why the other couch is no longer structually sound.

At least that's what we think, so we're going couch shopping tonight. Otherwise there would be 13 pairs of wide eyed stares looking at us with what I would expect would be awe and pride. Or perhaps, disgust? It could go either way really.

Last year at this time, I was frantically getting off of work and running to the mall to find T and myself something stunning to wear out. We were excited, we were getting out of town on the biggest bar night of the year...how far out of town? Not far at all...but we still managed to call it the Far Away Bar. I remember being at the mall and trying to find an outfit and then thinking to myself, "What's the point, I'm not going to be meeting anyone anyways" but somehow I still managed to purchase a cool black drapy tanktop that had silver mesh at the top that met in a V on my chest. Being as poor as I was last year, I had to wear a black tuxedo jacket over top of the shirt because I had to leave the tags on i...I knew as soon as the night was over, it was going back.
Because I never drove anywhere last year since my location was just too close to thitwbar, I offered to have a sober Thanksgiving Eve and drive T around...that notion even shocked the hell out of me, but it was more important to me to make sure that my friend had a fun, and safe time. As it turned out, my decision was best, because it was the first snowfall that night as well!

We got to the bar and I described the whole evening like this...
That was the night I met John. I was there for all two hours and only about twenty minutes while he was there. He was one of the "cute boys" that we regretted leaving the bar because, but he (and all the other cuties) was only a minor footnote in the blogpost (which is really awful and I must've had nothing to write about) because I never expected to hang out with him again...he was living in the city, I had heard that he had " girlfriend problems" (which I later learned first hand about sadly) so I chalked the experience up to this--I took his picture with T (John dated T's old best friend at one point), I sat across from them for about ten minutes while they caught up, I was introduced and then we left. I asked T on the way out, "Who was the guy with the hot guy with the cane?" (hot guy with the cane=John's old roommate) and she said, "Him? That's John. He's really cool, but he's not your type." In my head I questioned, what was my type these days? Jerks, losers, ex-boyfriends? At this point I was well into my man ban and had been sex free for about two, close to three months...I was trying "to get my shit together so I could figure out what I actually wanted in a man besides sex"...holy shit, who knew that Man Bans actually work? (Amber probably does,but she's a smarty pants)

I never mentioned him again to T until we hung out with him and Tony randomly one December night and then I said to her the next morning after he dropped us off at home, "He's kinda sexy." She gave me a look, "You think so? I wouldn't think he'd be your type."
But quite frankly it had taken everything in me not throw the poor boy on the ground and have my way with him...but of course, he's mentioned as a footnote again in the blog because I didn't want anyone to think I was obsessing about him or starting my "crazy talk"...in the back of my mind though, he was there.

And now John's mine all mine.
So this Thanksgiving, I'm giving thanks that I got to meet John that snowy night at a bar I never go to...and John's probably cursing the evening and all of tenaciousness that followed :)

I'm awfully thankful for having an awesome husband. It will soon become apparent why.

This was our weekend (In list form because I'm lazy):

Friday-'Drink, drink, drink your face off ' (sing to "Shake, shake shake senora...") was our theme. We hung out at home, we did some drinking, we did some twisting into human pretzels, we did some breaking of furniture while twisting into pretzels, we did some testing of new $140 purchase (Which I was a big fan of, and I wholeheartedly approve of John's purchase...after the fact) After consuming mass quantities of rum we went over to our friend Tony's house and then out on the town (by town I mean the tiny Cornfield in which we live). After that I was carted to an after party that I don't really remember. I hear that I was brought home and carried tenderly into the house. However, I tend to think that I was dragged toward the door and then told to walk or he'd beat me for being such a lush...that's just a guess though.

Saturday- I woke up slightly drunk--to head off a hangover, John handed me a Screwdriver made with leftover Everclear--hmm, I love him because he gives me grain alcohol at 11:30 in the morning. Inevitably, hormones and boozed caused something "amazing" to happen...I started to cry because I'm a big baby and I missed my daddy--particularly because we always had such fun Thanksgivings. Then I received some bad news (while still drunk) on the phone and bawled some more. Unable to articulate my sorrow to John without hic-cupping, sobbing and wailing (then apologizing for being a "freak about everything"), John did the only sane thing that a man in his position could--he went out and bought vodka and wine which we sipped all day laughing, watching tv, and just have a leisurely good time. He cooked me an awesome dinner (the first of two), and made me a fort and called it Fort Leisure (which we slept in for the rest of the weekend). We went out to get a movie but when we came back...I had some of the most amazing sex ever--so good that the old lady that I am, hurt her hip/back from attempting to be all bendy like (Again!)...John can stay, it's decided.

Sunday--More maxin' and relaxin' in Fort Leisure where Leisure Wife (that's me), Leisure Dog and Leisure Spouse hung out all day watching football, rolling around laughing, John not laughing at any of my jokes!! Ever!! I took a nice two hour nap and when I awoke, there was a fantastic dinner in front of me! We found out on Sunday that our family Thanksgiving dinner that was supposed to be John, myself, my mom, her boyfriend, John's dad, John's mom, John's sister and her boyfriend has grown about more four people...apparently John's sister's boyfriend has four kids. Don't get me wrong, I like kids, but I don't know if I like four...in one room, on Thanksgiving (Speaking of kids, in my drunken state on Friday, I made John map out for me when I can have a baby because I'm feeling old...due to the fact that I will be 3-fucking-0 in less than four months...ick. Oprah has me scared since my fertility has been nosediving since 27--I never watch that stupid show, why'd I catch that one? I'm not really in a rush other than that).

So that's it in a nutshell. This Thanksgiving I'm going to give thanks for my awesome leisurely weekend, and laying around with the most fun person in the world. It was nice being pampered, in craziness, in drunkeness and in health.

Ah, it's time to celebrate. I had my reviews at work and as I've deemed myself all this time, it turns out that I truly am OUTSTANDING with a smattering of satisfactory-ness and absolutely no trace of unsatisfactory-ness...nope not me! Although, in second grade I did receive a U (unsatisfactory/ungradeable) in penmanship which cracks me up because people always compliments me on my handwriting. I believe that Mrs. D (the most vile second grade/non cuddly teacher ever) just hated the fact that I used my left hand to write. The horror!!

In updates-- Thanksgiving was very low key this year (along with every year). I had a nice dinner out with my mom (I don't like turkey or leftovers, but I do love options!), we went to the movies and then I hit the bars with T at around 6:30pm. I think that might've been our first mistake. We were drunken fools that night. I remember putting my head on the bar saying...."mmm, cool wood...wood is sooo cool?" However, it was pretty cool that not long after that the Cars song, "Drive" came on and it dawned on us--"Who's gonna drive [us] home?" It wasn't a subliminal message, it was a deliberate message from T's holiday man (the last time they hooked up was on Halloween)...so like the most awesome third wheel ever, they drove me home and then he took her home and ravaged her. I've now pledged to find all the minor holidays out there so that she can continue to hook up with him. We've marked Arbor Day, Flag Day and Secretary Day on his calendar already and we pledge to add more!

Friday night T, Chelle and I hit thitwbar together. T wasn't feeling too well, as she had puked in the parking lot after she finished work...she ran home, got changed and then met us straight at the bar. Notice I mentioned nothing of a shower??? I'm hoping that she at least rinsed her mouth out! Well somehow we switched roles. I think it had something to do with Chelle. When Chelle starts to get her buzz on she decides that shots are the only way to get drunk. I think if needles were available, she'd be having us mainline the booze. Seriously. And then it happened. Into thitwbar, from Perfectsville, marched the Miller girls...as in Miller Beer Girls. Very few heads at the bar turned but T and I became giddy like annoying bitches at the end of the bar because we had seen...Miller Lite terry cloth wrist bands. Did I mention that we were already mirthful and altered by liquors of all sorts?? Well I sold my email address and my photo for a pair of wrist bands and because we were so kind, polite and far less skeevy than the other patrons the Miller Lite Girls were about to encounter, they bought us a pitcher for our pleasure.

Halfway into the largest pitcher ever molded out of plastic, I leaned over with crazy fish eyes and attempted to focus on Chelle. "Chelle," I wrasped out in my "Grover voice" (apparently I have a Grover voice according to the girls), "You need to take me home. Now. Now." When she told me I just needed a glass of water and to relax, "I thrust my fist against the bar and begged, "Now." Trooper that she is---she took me home where I passed out quite lady-like on the couch about three feet from my front door. The girls went over to Hot Ronnie's and when they returned at my house around 4:30am, T whispered to me, "I NOW know why you call him Hot Ronnie...he sang "The Blower's Daughter" and I just thought, 'Holy Hotness!" " I nodded sagely and drifted back to sleep.

Yes it was a first. For the first time in the history of my bar hopping past I remained sober on Thanksgiving Eve...which is strange for my beer worshipping self. But, T and I wanted to leave the Cornfield and head up the road about 20 mins so I thought to myself, "Let's be smart, shall we?" So I offered to drive to the "far away" bar and then we planned on coming back to thitwbar and just parking the car and both of getting drunk and walking home.

Well...we were stupid. We should've stayed at the far away bar. There were TONS of people there that we knew and we never see that often...and people that we admire from afar, and cute boys too. But, T felt bad that I had been sitting there nursing my water so we hopped back in the car and started making our way back to thitwbar...but there was a new wrench in our plans. It was snowing, and it was painfully cold.

We stepped into thitwbar and right away I could tell that we wouldn't be there for very long. First of all, all the people that we were friends with were working as bartenders and bouncers. That left the riff raff to run around like maniacs, smacking into me and spilling beer on my open toed shoes (yeah, I know...it was snowing). So the last straw was four beer bottles being knocked off the table and onto my shoes. I pointed to T and said, "Out. Now. We're leaving." In the parking lot I was greeted with the largest pile of puke I had ever seen and I knew that I had made the right choice. Remember, I was in a sorority...doesn't mean I want to go back to the frat party. So we moved on to the FQB and I had made a shaky decision. "T," I said, "I'm just going to drive...no drinking for me. So drink up...because one of us has to have fun."

The FQB was a little quieter, but still not as fun as the far away bar. We ran into Hot Ronnie who was wasted...he sang me Thunder Road, so that was fun...especially since it wasn't karaoke night...and especially since it wasn't very loud in there. All in all, it was a fun night...maybe not as dramatic as nights in the past but still, that was nice too. Even nicer?? The fact that I can eat Thanksgiving dinner without having to excuse myself to throw up...as I've done every year for the past 7 years, leaving some family members to believe I have a horrible untreated case of bulimea! Alrighty, enjoy your days...I'm off to dinner.

Tonight is the biggest bar night of the year here in the good ol' US of A so of course I will be partaking in the events. Typically this is what happens...my friends and I hit about ten bars that we wouldn't normally hit, run into roughly 4,217 people I haven't seen in a very long time . Of that 4,217 only 2.17 of them will be people that I actually want to run into! Let's see what else...well in the past, I have passed out at the bar...hmmm, I broke down into tears for no reason one year...and another year I think I went home with the lead singer from a really bad cover band. So, we'll see what happens this year...I'll post tomorrow if there's anything exciting to tell. Let's all hope that the Sharter will not be in attendance of any of the bars that I go to.