My Thanksgiving Was Way More Interesting Than Yours

I have so much to be thankful for.

I'm particularly thankful this year for the friendship of Nicolas Smoot.

Poor Nick. He was going to be alone for the holiday, so I offered to bring him along to my family. I've gone to the Kochers' Thanksgiving nearly every year for the past fifteen. We don't share blood, but they are absolutely my relatives. We fight, laugh, make barbed remarks, and eat together. Was I concerned about bringing Nick into the middle of all of this? Of course! Especially considering the fact that I married the only other person I've ever brought to dinner, with our families finding out a week after.

They seemed a bit put out by that. Funny how that works.

Nick also showed up a good half hour before my mother and I did. See, I started out the day... ill. After a distressing period worshipping at the porcelain throne, Mom and I seriously discussed dinner and decided to bravely soldier on. We arrived at my aunt and uncles' house without further incident. From me, at least.

The real excitement started right after grace was said, around six pm. I noticed Mom wasn't there to lead the singing, which she always does. I went in search of her.

I found her collapsed on my sister's bathroom floor.

She was conscious, more or less, but not very capable of speech. We went back and forth about what we should do, but my wish to call the paramedics won out in the end.

As it happens, one of said paramedics was an ex's father, because my day just hadn't been interesting enough. I had thought he didn't like me, but he just didn't like my taste in men.

At least my mother could agree on that mark.

So Nick, bless him, spent four hours in the ER with me. Dinner was a box of Goldfish crackers and a bottle of iced tea. We watched YouTube videos and discussed movies and history and actually had a pretty good time, considering the circumstances.

Mom's diagnoses was sudden onset vertigo. She got some awesome drugs for her trouble. I did not. She has been resting, but is otherwise fine.

In closing, I am thankful for-

• Nick <3
• Auntie Cindy, for taking care of the dog and helping us carry Mom into the house.
• Goldfish crackers
• Arnold Palmer
• Chocolate peanut butter swirl ice cream
• Gin
• Internet
• Indoor plumbing(!!!!)
• Mom
• The fact that Mom didn't die on Thanksgiving, unlike some other parent I could name.
• Chris, my bestest friend
• Katherine, my little sister, who was the most upset and worried of all of us.
• My roommate, who hasn't lit anything on fire (that I know of) in my absence
• Anyone who has ever read this blog

Much love, kids. <3

Adventures with the Biffle

My presence was demanded. In keeping with the fact that I haven't slept in my own bed in two months, I made the journey from Duke University in North Carolina to Flowery Branch, Georgia. No, I didn't know such a town existed, either.

I stayed five days, in a house of horrors.

"And on this episode of Intervention..."

Beyond the hoarder-like qualities of the decorating scheme, it was all so... nice. And... decorated. 

Have I been around college students too long? Is this a normal thing? Do people actually take time out of their lives to pick out colors and matching curtains? And then do activities like vacuuming and dusting?

I'm so out of the loop.

Okay, well, making fun of Chris aside, I will continue on with the post... making fun of Chris.

First off, he is the cutest widdle snuggle bunny-

I accept the fact that he will try to kill me for this. I also accept the fact that I will probably deserve it.

Also, Chris attempted to teach me how to play Halo. It was an exercise into why we can't have nice things. Like the jeeps. We can't have jeeps. I immediately drove two off a cliff. And I accidentally killed Chris. Twice. He says the three times he killed me were accidents, but I really don't know how much stock I put in that. There was giggling.

Did you know that you can punch aliens? Did you also know sometimes they wander past you while you're figuring out what the buttons do? The moment was perfect. We raised a glass in celebration of my accidentally punching things.

There were a lot of accidents in playing that game.

We went to the mall! It was great! We had a lot of fun! Right up until the point where we were stranded outside!

See, Chris is in a wheelchair, through very little  no fault of his own. Which, you know, means he can't take the stairs. Which wouldn't be a problem if the service exit we took after the mall closed... didn't have stairs. And, you know, if the door hadn't locked behind us.

I knew at the time it was probably a bad idea. Sure, there was a lit exit sign, but were we actually allowed? And why did the door click so ominously behind us?

So I went on an exciting adventure around the perimeter of the mall to find help! Fun fact- when the mall closes, everyone leaves. So I spent twenty minutes looking for someone, anyone, to let me back in the mall. On random chance, I found the area that security vehicles were supposed to park in. "Finally!" I thought, "Someone who can surely help!"

There was no one there except for a guy from Sbarro who was desperately attempting to leave.

Having effectively begged him, he finally let me back into the mall.

Bonus plus points- I scared the shit out of Chris when I kicked the exit door open to let him back in.

The next day, Chris had a cold, so we stayed in.

He's kind of wimpy that way.

I love him. He's my twinsie. <3

Also his cats like me better

AKA Shit people who love me put up with

Where am I? What state am I in?

From my powers of deduction, I believe I am in Savannah. I have a collection of small fuzzy creatures demanding my attention and using me as a shedding receptacle/jungle gym. There's also an aura of despair and misery, so that's a hint.

Anyway, I'm here to share with you the joys of having prolonged and detailed discussions with me. There are, of course, boatloads more, but they're probably only actually funny to me.

Conversations with me

"You're like... a broccoli-eating squirrel."

"It sounds like Skrillex ate a printer."

"You never told me I had to be sociable!"

"It's a ball!"

"You should get a dog and name him Samuel Pupys."

"Put the dog in the bathroom with the wasp. I will recognize the survivor as my true pet."

(More to be added if my adoring public demands it)

MASSIVE UPDATE

I've been too busy to write. So now you get five posts rolled into one! Lucky you!

HALLOWEEN
The little assholes children never came to the door. I realized later that, as it was a Wednesday, trick-or-treating was probably scheduled for Saturday. Peter didn't care.

 Peter is the original grump

 

But I was dressed as a medieval maiden. Peter went as Tommy Lee Jones a Man in Black. He won't let me post pictures because he refuses to have fun.

 

But here, have one of me!

 

 

And then we watched "Hellboy" and I ate all the Twix. It was great. Exactly sixty-six percent of the household had a good time, if you include the puppy.

 

Fancypants Marine Ball

I WAS THE FANCIEST.

 

Peter doesn't understand what smiling is

 

There is, apparently, a whole world of party dances! The Electric Slide was not played once and half the songs had some kind of freakish assigned choreography. It was an experience in sociology. The sociology of hippity-hop.

 

Also, the bartender made me a vodka and Sprite. And by that I mean he kind of waved the Sprite over it so the glass could absorb the general ambiance. Since it was about three shots in one go, I decided to just have the one. Peter called me a chicken, because he doesn't know that you can be a fun and likable person whilst sober.

 

I did not cause an incident. We were all shocked.

 

Dungeons and Flagons

I got to wear the medieval dress again! :D I tried to charm a lady, failed, and woke up hungover in punishment for my efforts. Also there was shopping cart jousting, which is just as violent as it sounds.

 

No one died. We were all shocked.

 

More posts to come later, including Adventures with Chris and Conversations with Peter.

 





DC HIRL

This particular shenanigan started about three days before I actually got out of the apartment. The lovely Emmy, hatcher of plans, realized that, with three of us being in neighboring states, we could actually hang out!

Of course, that would mean leaving the internet, but we could be brave little soldiers.

So we shipped Adam and Caz from Florida to the DC suburbs, and spent the weekend together!

Not pictured- Suzanne and Adam



You cannot even comprehend the sheer amount of hugging that happened. Or drinking. We were just a great big mushy puddle of love and intoxication. And chicken masala. Holy crap. I may have to get adopted by Suzanne, just for the cooking.

My Sip-a-saurus was baptized with wine. He continues to be unnamed.

 

Saturday morning (well, approximately. Post breakfast quiche and morning snuggles and incredible amounts of coffee), we went to downtown DC to see the Natural History Museum (FINALLY! HOLY SHIT. IT ONLY TOOK A FUCKING MONTH TO GET THERE) and the Vietnam memorial.

 

 

You can call me Hermione

 

I even made animal friends! I was a real-life Disney princess. It was magical. I even burst into song on the sidewalk.

 

 

I named the squirrel George

 

 

Also this happened-

 

 

That night, we had Thanksgiving dinner. In October. Before Halloween. It was glorious.

 

And then I died.











OH GOD

There is a wasp in the bathroom.

Not your average wasp, the kind that's the size of my fingernail. No, this is a monstrosity. This wasp could tangle with Godzilla, and probably win. It is, in fact, roughly the size of a whole finger. Not that I spent enough time around it to estimate size accurately.

There is no picture of it because ARE YOU CRAZY? YOU THINK I'M GOING TO GO GET MY PHONE, COME BACK, AND TAKE A PICTURE?

Yeah. No. I fled. Screw that.

You're really just going to have to take my word on this.

Oh! And it is also, apparently, indestructible.

Peter (big strong manly man, champion of helpless maidens) (shut up about the maiden part, dammit) first killed it with a fly swatter. He killed it again by spraying it with bleach. He killed it a third time, again with the fly swatter. Three times he killed it! And each time it got up and resumed the attack. A few hours later, as I prepared to take a shower, I noticed it sitting on the towel.

Watching me.

I may never bathe again.

Now, as it is morning and I really would like to wash my hair, I am attempting to construct a flame thrower of sufficient power to burn the building down.

It's the only way to be sure.

Klout you are silly

Klout has told me I am influential about beer.

Well, then.

It's true that I am a fan of fermented beverages. I like wine (whites and blackberry are best) (although blackberry wine is not very classy) (in other news, I'm not classy). I like vodka. I actually like vodka quite a bit. I also have a raging, untamed lust for cider (OM NOM NOM ANGRY ORCHARD).

Did I mention vodka? Because that's pretty fantabulous.

Beer?

Beer is gross.

One afternoon, when I was first learning to drink, my uncle insisted I try a sip of every kind of beer. It was an... unpleasant experience. For everyone involved. One that I pray never to repeat. Beer just tastes bitter to me. No other flavor or variation- just bitter. I have tried everything the liquor store carries. It all tastes the same, and it is all pretty gross.

What the hell, Klout. What the hell.

Is this a regular thing? I have heard of Klout telling people they are influential in George Clooney and the sea. While I wouldn't mind influencing George Clooney... Mmm...

Wait. What was this post about again?

Mental Health Break Begins!

I'm in Fredericksburg, Virginia. I can see the sun setting from my view on the porch, and my phone is in my bra because the puppy already ate my Otter Box and I don't trust him anymore.

(I'm actually more impressed than upset about that. I couldn't even get the Otter Box off half the time, and I have thumbs!)

This is the first leg of my epic journey across the east coast to visit people before my equally epic move. I'll be here until early November, then off to North Carolina!

I'm here because I want to live in the Smithsonians (someone should probably come stop me from setting up a pup tent in the Natural History Museum) (Or don't. That works, too.) and because puppy.

Jameson was supposed to be a holdover name until Peter thought of something better. You can imagine how well that turned out.

Peter's here sometimes, too, I guess.

Since arriving four days ago, not a lot of adventuring has been done. I've mostly been content to hide in my brain and come out on occasion for food. There's been some going out and about and touring the town, however.

Today, since I was feeling more up to being outside, Jameson (which is I guess is his permanent name now) and I explored a bit of the nature park behind the apartments! There's a stream and mysterious forest trails and a historical site! We navigated a treacherous mountain path up a course hewn from a stony outcrop. It was three feet wide with an immediate thirty foot drop. Jameson kept stopping to look over the edge. Probably just to fuck with me.

 The lighting was much more magical than my non-archane camera phone can handle.

He is a buttface.

Rocky Horror Picture Show

One of the parts of Atlanta I'll miss most is Lips Down on Dixie, the local shadowcast for RHPS. I've been a member on and off for three years at this point.

There's been quite a bit of drama since I started getting on that stage, and my frequent breaks are often because of it. But hey. You throw a bunch of theater kids, some in school for it, some even professionals, what do you expect?

All the same, there has never been a more welcoming, loving, or inclusive group I've ever been a part of.

I'll miss you, guys. <3 Thank you for giving me the self-confidence needed to dance onstage in my undies, the happiness of finding a passion, and the support I've needed through these past few hellish years. Thank you for throwing me in the way of opportunities outside of Rocky, like modeling and events and meeting amazing people.

And thank you, especially, for being there for me this past month. I don't know what I would have done without you backing me, making sure I got out of my apartment, and just talking to me and making sure I'm okay.

Much love to everyone, newbies (to me!) and oldies. I will cheer you on from afar!

I'm the one in the white hat! :D

Forever Far Away

I'm procrastinating on getting food with a blog post.

Two days from now, on Saturday, I am flying to Virginia to stay with a friend for a month. After that, I make many, many smaller trips around the east coast to see friends and family, before moving permanently to California.

Let us recap what has happened in the past two months-

-I got divorced.
-A former friend turned into a stalker who was sexually harassing me. He threatened to kill my ex-husband, two of my closest friends, and himself if I stopped talking to him. I took out a restraining order and now fear for my life.
-An entire group of friends suddenly stopped talking to me, or responding to any attempts at contact. Ironically, just when I need friends the most.
-Zombie Fishfish, for who this blog is named, died on Sunday.

I think Atlanta is trying to kill me. It's doing a pretty damn good job of it.

I'm so tired, and I'm so sick of feeling angry and bitter and lonely. I'm sick of being so depressed I fall into bed and can't get out for hours, missing things I really did want to do in the meantime. I'm sick of watching my phone for someone, anyone, to ask if I'm okay.

I'm not.

So goodbye, Georgia. I'd say it's been swell, but these fifteen years have been hell.