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It’s Holiday Season Again: Thanksgiving


 

Okay,

so I promised to complete the holiday series and by GOD I am going to do it!  For those of you that have long since put the torturous memory of Thanksgiving out of its misery, I am happy to reopen that wound for you as I am doing so to myself by authoring this very entry.

As is often the case, we opt to travel for Thanksgiving this year.  Only this time we are not on a 3-hour tour, we jump in head first and sign up for the 6-hour variety of road trip.  Granted, if I roofie the wife and NyQuil the rug rats , I can make that trip in 5 hours flat.  This being said, I am fresh out of roofies and at last check we have two wide-awake ankle-biters in the back seat. Begrudgingly, we head off to the windy, treeless prairies of the Texas panhandle.

Based on previous road trips (see https://genericdad.com/2010/09/21/were-no-donner-party/) you all know my children do not do well in the car over long periods of time.  Now, in the past we would typically drive thru a fast food joint and scarf down a high calorie, deep-fried mystery meal while I would attempt to distractedly eat and drive.  This is coupled with the wife riding reverse cowboy (on her knees in the front seat facing the back seat trying to force the kids to eat food that they don’t want in the first place)…maybe “Reverse Cowboy” is not the term…In fact, I know it’s not…I have Cinemax ya know. Needless to say, this is not the safest way to transport our precious cargo, so in recent trips we have been stopping at an actual restaurant with actual waiters.  This, at the very least, allows the wife and I to enjoy decent food while our kids run around howling like banshees in whatever Small Town, TX eatery we bless with our noisy presence.

The meal goes without incident.  I tip the poor 78 year-old woman who had to endure the ear-piercing shrieks of  my kids and we are back on the road just as an icy rain starts to fall.  Because the kids are somewhat behaving and because they actually ate some lunch we are inclined to let them have some candy while they watch their annoying movies (thank GOD for headphones!).  I don’t know if is something that he ate at lunch, car sickness, or something else entirely, but Lil B lets out a painful sounding belch that would put Booger Presley to shame.  That air bubble must have been serving as some makeshift cork because as soon as the cork blew, so did Lil B.  The kids had each just plowed through a tasty sack of M&Ms, so naturally, what was currently being projectile-vomited all over the back of my seat had the look of a lovely chocolate fountain one might see at a decent reception.  The comparison to the reception stops there because this is about the time that the smell hits the front seat.  Of course, we are in the middle of nowhere by this time and it’s pouring rain.  Luckily we see a roadside stop that we can at least have some cover to get Lil B. out of his Baby Gap Chocolate Fondue gear.  Clean as I might, I am not able to rid the vehicle of the scent of chocolate mixed with stomach bile, but some creative directing of the air vents at least keeps the smell in back with the livestock…err kids.

By comparison, the rest of our journey goes swimmingly and we soon find ourselves in the dusty plains of the panhandle on the outskirts of Amarillo.  There is not much to do in Amarillo other than binge drink and get pregnant.  Since we are already saddled with two fun babies, we opt for binge drinking.  We relax and visit with family in the days leading up to the turkey day feast(s).

Our first feast requires a short jaunt to the metropolis of Dumas, a small agribusiness-centered community in which the wife’s family resides.  Dumas is filled with good people and…hispanics, but mostly good people and I do not mind our brief visits.  It is actually a nice departure from the busyness of Dallas.  Things are quiet and simple and there is not much to do and I kind of like it…if only I could get 4G to connect so that I could Facebook and watch internet porn…maybe I don’t like being out in the boonies after all…at least there’s binge drinking…

After a delicious Thanksgiving meal with the wife’s family we are forced to exit rather quickly as we are already running late for our 2nd feast at my folk’s house back in Amarillo.  We arrive at my parent’s place just as my family is sitting down to eat.  So as not to disappoint, I heap the fixin’s onto my plate as though I had not seen food in days.  You can’t show up to mom’s and not eat after she has spent an entire day preparing a meal…So, the wife and I take one for the team and eat our second complete Thanksgiving meal within a two-hour span.  I am a fat ass and this is not much of a feat for me to accomplish, but I give the wife credit as she made a great showing at both feasts.  I am not positive, but I could swear I hear the sounds of a desperate woman purging her system later that day…it reminds me of high school and for a short time I bask in the nostalgia of my hometown.

The voyage home is uneventful.  There is no projectile vomiting, no crying, and no rain.  As we listen to an audiobook my mind drifts in and out of the story.  My liver and colon wreaking havoc on me for a week’s worth of overeating…and drinking, I am left with a warm sensation knowing that we are blessed with such a great family…nope, that’s not it…I think I just sharted…where the hell is that roadside stop!

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It’s Holiday Season Again…Where’s My Shotgun? (Prologue)


     Ah yes, it’s that time of year yet again.  The leaves are turning, football is in full swing, and all of our coats have been unpacked and dewinterized.  For many folks, fall symbolizes the start to the best part of their year.  They look forward to turkey, taking time away from the stresses of work and exchanging in pleasant fellowship with loved ones. 

 I can just see them wrapping up in that new “Snugg Life” Snuggie that they got for Christmas with a nice hot mug of cocoa as they settle in to watch Miracle on 34th Street for the 97th time.  Doesn’t that sound lovely?  It’s like a Lifetime original movie and you are the star.  Too bad this pumpkin spice-scented dream simply does not exist in my world.   In my world that same scene would be more like me drunkenly stumbling my way through a maze of toddler toys as I half fall-half sit into a 1/2″ layer of kid snack crumbs on the sofa in an attempt to rub one out to Sue Heck’s Hello Kitty-concealed jugs before I pass out. (I know Sue is under age, but I love me some Hello Kitty!).  While that scene may not be entirely realistic, (you all know I am too cheap to buy my kids toys…or snacks) it sets the tone for the holiday season in my family.

As I sit in jail for domestic abuse, I have some time to reflect on what it is about the holiday season that sends me down the path to suicide each year.  It’s the three-pronged attack of holidays that starts, and keeps the beating ball rolling.  Think of it in military terms.  The first wave of attack is Halloween.  If you survive the attack, you find yourself staring Thanksgiving right in the face.  Many do not make it through this second wave, but those that are unlucky enough to survive are rewarded with the shock and awe of Christmas.  Just the string of those three words has me ordering up my autoerotic asphyxiation kit…hold the lemon.

This year, in an attempt to keep my sanity, I have decided to chronicle the holiday season with my family.  I  will provide a detailed account of each holiday wave of attack.  Hopefully, I keep the shotgun out of my mouth long enough to finish this endeavor.  Wish me luck and stay tuned…