I have the privilege of writing this column on Thanksgiving. All my thankfulness is fresh in my mind. Thankfully, being direct is one of my strong suits and quitting while I’m ahead is my forte, so I’ll just jump on in and keep it short. Let’s go be thankful.
I’m thankful for tennis…every single thing about it. I’m thankful the gear is so damn cute and the skirts are so acceptably short and I’m thankful that NikeID makes tennis shoes, and I’m thankful my new pair will be here in 3-4 weeks. I’m thankful that I managed to find a tennis partner who plays exactly like I play, the way I want to play, with a perfectly matched skill level. I’m thankful that—for whatever reason—I thought I would take Bossie up on her suggestion we play together, and I’m thankful that I was WAY better on that first day than I ever remember being. I’m thankful that two of the laziest, non-committed people in the universe found something that not only redefined our weekend, but something that allows us to spend the perfect amount of time together, solving the long-standing problem of not spending any time together. I’m so very thankful for the MSS Ruppe. When I got rid of the MSS Wolfie, I didn’t think there could ever be another automobile I’d love as much. The Wolfie came along at a point in my life that marked incredible change, and to let him go was a huge loss. But then I saw the Ruppe. A magnificent display of German engineering and the perfect vehicle (no pun intended) to leave the past 4 years behind, and roll into a new phase. Urano Grey. I’m so thankful for that color. It’s the most perfect color any car could ever be. I’m thankful that I can control my iPod from my steering wheel, because while I hate the way the controls work and the almost painful process required to find songs and playlists, I love the fact that the iPod is put away in the glove compartment and it doesn’t crap up my cup holder. I’m thankful I didn’t send the car back the second I found out that it doesn’t have a sunroof, because then I wouldn’t have discovered that I can drive with both my driver and rear passenger windows completely down, and my hair won’t move. There is nothing in the universe better than driving with the windows down and not getting mussed. So thankful. I’m so thankful November is almost over so all the Mans can shave off they damn mustaches. You look like little whimpy bitches, every single one of you. And any girl who tells you she thinks it’s cute is lying to your face…a bold faced lie. She just wants to make you feel good about yourself so you’ll keep paying attention to her. Promise. She’s lying to you. I’ll bet you even tried to apologize for the mustache or say how much you hate it, and she talked you out of it, and reassured you it was great and that made you feel good, so you spent some extra time with her. Yeah, she’s full of shit. Fucking Movember…so thankful. I’m thankful for continuous spray Febreze. I’m thankful for Kimmie; we’re different kinds of crazy, but we’ve same awareness that it exists. When you’re friends with someone who is honest with herself about what needs to change, you’re more prone to committing to changing things about yourself. I’m thankful we didn’t have the best friendship the first time we met, because we may not have gotten to this point 10 crucial years later. I’m thankful for my French Press. I love walking to Starbucks so much that I never thought my weekends could exist without it, until I wrote a telling letter to Starbuck corporate about a c-bag barista who treated me like shit in my favorite store, causing me to buy a French Press, and I discovered that making coffee in my kitchen, before I wash my face or put on a bra could be the most liberating experience in the world. I’m thankful for Coffee Mate hazelnut creamer because it makes my coffee perfect. I’m thankful for Aleida for so many reasons, but currently, and ongoingly, I’m thankful she challenged me to take a Centrum Complete vitamin every day in 2011—I can’t commit to doing anything on a daily basis. I’m thankful they sell these vitamins at Costco, and I’m thankful there are 365 of them in the bottle just to make it easy for fools like me. I’m thankful for Centrum vitamins because, immediately, my hair started growing like a weed, and I don’t just love weed, but I love great hair. I’m thankful for South Beverly Grill. I’m thankful it’s owned by Houston’s, I’m thankful it’s a quarter of the size of a real Houston’s, I’m thankful it’s walking distance from Bungalow Ruppe, I’m thankful they have live music—mostly because it’s unnerving to be anywhere, a house or a restaurant or a store, and not have background noise—but I’m most thankful that the geriatric, martini-swilling demographic who eats at South Beverly Grills is far more My Land, My People that Houston’s ever was. I’m thankful I love to make decisions as much as I do. Inability or fear of making decisions is why your life stands still. I’m thankful that standing still is my worst nightmare. I’m thankful for my Dyson handheld vacuum. I’m, of course, thankful for vodka. I’m thankful for Alisha because she gives me the freedom to meet you brats here every week and say whatever it is I want to say. And then she likes me still afterwards. And I’m thankful that she’s allowing me the honor of being in her super dope wedding, and—as if it couldn’t get better—she’s letting me wear a dress that’s pretty much over the top and not exactly in keeping with her aesthetic and I’m thankful she knows me, and knows how much it means to me to be able to express with a dress. Which brings me to my next point: I’m thankful for dresses. I’m thankful for everyone in my life who comes from the Improv world, as they’ve taught me that saying ‘yes’ is the only way to get through the day. I’m thankful that I’m able to have the patience needed to go for a DP in the park where people can’t seem to understand that the path is a two-way path—one person in each direction—and not a one-way path for two people in one direction even though 99% of the time, it’s men who should be getting off the path completely so a Lady can pass, but instead remain firm, and run me off because they can’t be bothered to envoke manners at a time like the park. I’m thankful for grosgrain ribbon (I think I was thankful for that last year, too). I’m thankful for Honey Skouras because she saw what her Corioliss tool did for my hair, and she told me I could keep it. And that, paired with the vitamins Aleida challenged me to take, led to the greatest confidence booster a girl could ask for : A great lid. I’m thankful for my parents. Not in a cheesy way, but because they are as legit as two people get. They have no idea what to do with me, they have no idea how to understand me or relate to me, but it’s all an incredible testament to who they are and how they raised me—I’m a reflection of their insistence on assuming responsibility, earning my own money, coping with my own problems and the understanding the complaints aren’t received very well, so it’s best to lock them up. I’m also thankful that neither one of them is boring, because as much as they have no idea how I got the way I got, it’s all in the genes, and I’d rather be dead than boring. I’m thankful for my new found hobby of getting a Thai massage; turns out there is no other way I’d like to spend an hour or $35 ($45 after tip). I’m thankful for my older brother because, as adults, it turns out we have a great many similar personality traits, and, as kids, I only ever wanted to be like him. I’m thankful for Facebook. I hate pretty much anything and everything that’s trendy or cool. Mostly because I dislike and disrespect most of my peers, so anything they like, I question. Except for Facebook. I didn’t know I needed or wanted such a mainstream outlet for my quirks. I love the interaction, I love the dumb shit y’all post, I love the behavior patterns, I love the pictures. I’m thankful for the simple and legitimate validation I get from the little red asterisk at the top of my screen. I’m thankful for Michael Buble because He. Is. Sexy. I’m thankful I’m funny. I’m thankful I neither need, nor want, fancy things. I’m thankful for my Kidden. I’m thankful for her personality, mostly because I’m fascinated by the fact that I actually get to watch a cat be a bitch. I’m thankful for TV—from Nightly News with Brian Williams to General Hospital. I’m thankful for my screen door. Not just because it’s the most amazing addition to Bungalow Ruppe since the Polaroid, but because it’s made my perfect little Kidden so very happy, and it allows the air to remain fresh inside while I smoke bowl after bowl. I’m thankful that Rebecca Leib comes to me for advice because it makes me feel special. I’m thankful I have self-control. I’m so very thankful that tennis is very unexpectedly, but very welcomedly, causing me to lose weight because it allows me to eat and drink the way I’ve always dreamed of eating and drinking—and for someone who used to tip the scales at 180ish el-bees, you can imagine what a joy this is for me. I’m thankful for Alicia because she just gets me like no one else does. I’m thankful for Kim Kardashian’s rapid demise. I would do anything in the world to keep her name out of the news, her face off the covers and her family out of the public eye; it’s during a situation like hers that I’m thankful America has such a short attention span. Speaking of short attention spans, I’m thankful Obama’s term is almost up. I’m thankful for Gelson’s and I’m thankful for the odd satisfaction of being able to navigate the Censch parking lot with my eyes closed. I’m thankful that I discovered the “Bedside Mode” setting on my phone. It’s the perfect combination of phone and alarm clock—and I love perfect combinations of things in the name of efficiency or convenience. I’m thankful my cousin-who-is-like-my-sister had her second baby, named her Olivia and then asked my parents to be the Godparents because now they can puke out their need to have a grandchild on this Godchild. I’m thankful for gel nails. I’m not thankful for the havoc they wreak on your real, Centrum-grown nails, but I’m thankful that my #2 red looks salon shiny perfect for three weeks, no questions asked. I’m thankful for Clorox. I’m thankful for weed. I’m thankful for subway tiles and painted hardwood floors. I’m thankful traditional baby names like Charlotte and Lydia are back. I’m thankful for my job. Not because I love working—I don’t, I’m super lazy—but I’m thankful that of all the jobs in the world for which I’m most suited, it’s a mother of some sort. Further, that being a difficult objective in my case, I’ve stumbled upon a situation where I’m extended the honor of being the mother to 130 people, 40 hours a week. Not only am I thankful that it’s not a skill-based job, but I’m thankful for the interaction it provides, the conversations it begets and the frustrations it promises. I’m thankful for the repeated personality stress-tests because it’s equipped me for anything and everything. I’m thankful that my job satisfies such a huge part of my social quotient, I’m thankful that my job allows me to assert a huge part of my bratty quotient, and I’m most thankful that my job encourages me to present my personality. It’s a blessing, and I’m thankful that, being in the same 9-to-5 kinna place for the past 4 years, I’ve only not wanted to get out of bed because I hate my job, probably 5 times ever.
And that about wraps it up. Not just because I have a tennis game I gotta get to, but because I could go on for hours. Truly. I hope all y’all are enjoying your Thanksgiving and your Black Friday (insane tradition). I’m gonna go freshen up and get on about my day. Today, I’m thankful, very specifically, that all you kids read this drivel and—for whatever reason—you encourage me to keep going at it. Whatever, it’s your life, and Mama loves to talk about it, so I guess we all win. Happy kick-off to the holidays. Don’t get all wrapped up in the material of it—remember, trends don’t last, and always make you regret spending the money—so how about you focus on the people in your life instead. Or, and here’s a cray idea, how about you focus on yourselves and how you’re not going to continue to fuck shit up in 2012. You have 5 weeks to come up with a game plan. And, since I’m perfect, I have 5 weeks to figure out what to do on New Year’s…. Keep in mind that the holidays makes drinking very acceptable—for that, I’m thankful, too—but also keep in mind that alcohol leads to mostly poor decisions. Stay ahead of the game, and make good choices. Santa’s watching. And by Santa, I mean me, and I’m way more of a bitch than he is.