Happy Veteran's Day, from Commie America

Last Saturday, I walked into the YMCA in downtown DC to see that the TV was set to Al Jazeera, as part of Obama's plan to make sure that's the only channel received by schools, churches, and community centers. I texted YOC, since she majored in terrorist studies, to learn that she had spent the morning at a Veteran's Day parade in...Florida, I think? (Can't keep up...somewhere in the South) Anyway, a parade that featured Shriners and assorted corporate mascots.

I had no idea towns still had parades for Veteran's Day, although I suppose we'll take any chance to honor our troops and McDonalds.

If that story doesn't summarize America, then I don't know what does.

We were getting anxious

Christmas is not only a time to reconnect with family, but also an opportunity to introduce your relatives to any new love interests one may have. My most favorite cousin Toast found herself in this situation this year, although the fine young gentleman did not arrive until 8:30, avoiding the majority of family. By the time they got to the house, only the most die-hard family members remained, only staying to meet the new man. Now, earlier in the day one of our aunts had remarked, "You either love us or hate us. We've scared off quite a few people." This is true; we do tend to inspire feelings on either end of the scale, not the middle.

Anyway, minutes after new boyfriend entered the house, one aunt launched into a story of how she had spent hours walking around with toilet paper hanging from her pants. And then followed that with (with a prompt from me, I will admit) an assertion that Jolly Rancher gelatin has the consistency of a baby's butt. All the while reinforcing my belief that it is best to marry the person first, THEN introduce him to the family. Divorces are expensive.

All in all, not a bad introduction to the family. Just remember Toast, at least there were no fart machines around. Just wait until the beach!

Cough, cough, cough

Christmas was much fun, and gave me a great deal of fodder for the blog, but let me start by saying that all the parents in Southern and Central New Jersey must take their kids to my cousin's street in December to prove that Santa is watching. Because the huge Santa staring down onto the unsuspecting public that sits in my relatives' window was one of the creepiest things I've seen in a long time.

Have you seen my socks?

Thanksgiving went on longer than intended, thanks to my cousin's husband who makes sure everyone's drink is never empty. The sign of a good bartender, yes, and one who won't mind if four of his in-laws have to crash at his house. The main highlight was when my cousin's wife told me that whenever she hears "Fat-bottomed Girls" she thinks of me. Finally! A theme song!

I went to Chadwick's in Friendship Heights on Saturday as part of a birthday bar crawl, and as we were walking up there I told my friend not to ask for free drinks, because at a 21st birthday there two years ago the bartender took some of the shots off the bill since the celebrant didn't ask for any freebies. Sure enough, as we were cashing out, the same bartender took a drink off the bill for the same reason.

Anyone want it?

Regarding my sister's comment to my post about the weird dreams I've been having lately, I think she's onto something there. I've never been one to believe in ghosts or the like, but it would explain the mystery of the turkey from last Thanksgiving.

See, no one in the family offered to host the holiday, and since I suddenly had a house with no one living in it, I decided to have the celebration there. My aunt arranged to arrive early with the turkey so I wouldn't have to worry about buying or roasting one.

I had spent quite a few weekends previous to the holiday at the house, and one of the first things I did was to clean out the fridge and freezer. I left butter and bread in there, and perhaps a popsicle or two. That was it. When I woke up Thanksgiving morning, however, there was a turkey sitting on the top shelf of the freezer. I swear to God that had not been there the night before, and everyone I asked promised they didn't drop one off overnight.

I still have no explanations for that turkey, but maybe someone couldn't stop himself from making one last trip to the Acme. If I come home one day to find iced tea, pretzels, and peach ice cream, I'll know for sure.

à dieu je demande

Last night, I went to a Bastille Day party at Bistrot du Coin. Since it's a French restaurant, I thought they'd have a whole French experience for us to enjoy. Well, I must have missed when France invaded and conquered Colombia, because they definitely played Juanes at about 11:00, right when the party was in full swing. The only thing I could think of was that it could be an odd tribute to Betancourt? Although the number of people who would be able to make that connection after a couple of drinks must be rather low, even in this city.
The night wasn't a total loss, however; I met someone named "Gaston."

I hope you did!

Scene: Dorney Park, July 12, 2008, 9:00 PM

Employee surveys the long line at Talon
Him: "That sucks. Today has been ridiculous. It hasn't been this crowded since the 4th of July."
Me: "That was last week."
Silence
Him: "Well, still. We might break a record today!"

4th of July NoVA-style, Revisited

I didn't have this on my computer until today, but here's the best image of how the 4th is celebrated in VA, as found on the sidewalk of Wilson Blvd:
USA! USA!

4th of July NoVA-style

Between the guy behind us who kept yelling, "America! USA! YEAH!", the man with the flag bandanna in front of us who called us all Nazis for not cheering, and then the mad rush of everyone leaving, I'm pleased to say that I survived July 4th in Virginia. I watched the fireworks, walked back to my car, and made it safely back to the North where a gentleman in spandex wished me a happy 4th and shook my hand at the 7-11. There truly are two Americas.