December 29, 2004

Thanksgiving Story

N.B. I meant to post this story a month ago, but somehow it got lost in the archives. Since I didn't have time to flesh out a good Christmas story, I figured I'd let this little post see the light of day, even if it is a month past due.

Normally, I don't mind growing up Unitarian Universalist. Unlike most of my friends, I really enjoy the church in which I was raised. I always enjoyed going to Sunday School, and when I take tests like What Religion Are You?, I turn out to be UU most of the time. I mean, I went to my first gay marriage when I was five, and didn't even realize that gay couples weren't acceptable until third grade. This is the kind of church I enjoy. Well, usually, at least.

My sister's best friend's mom was in charge of the church Thanksgiving potluck this year. Through a series of whiny women, the mom forced her daughter to go, and her daughter whined until my sister went, and my sister whined until the entire family went.

Now, most people spend Thanksgiving with their families. It's a given. Even the most trailer-trash of humans put on their best Norman Rockwell and survive the meal. If you're not spending the holiday with your family, chances are, there was a major schism between you and your family. I know that Christmas is a popular time for suicides, but I'm willing to bet that Thanksgiving is up there, too.

In case you haven't caught on to my Thanksgiving story, I had to spend my Thanksgiving with whiny, overweight lesbians (is that redundant?) who were rejected from their own family and had no where else to go.

I hate Thanksgiving.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.