Congratulations to ...

Anonymous.

You lucky biotch. Sumo drew YOU from the hat even though you only got one entry and everybody else had 3. But let's be honest. That poem kicked arse. Send me an email with your name & address and I'll send you the goods.

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Well by now most of my American readers have consumed leftover turkey in the form of turkey sandwiches, turkey milkshakes, and turkey tetrazini. We are sick and tired of that effing bird. And we're officially in the Christmas season.

But let us first pause for a moment and observe how Thanksgiving went down Tranny Head style.

In sum, Thanksgiving at the Vanilla household was ... well ... full of bland food. And old maids.

The cast of characters:

The Old Maid Brigade (my two old maid cousins in their 50's)

Granilla's old maid former secretary who I think has unnatural relations with her dog. We'll call her Doggie Style.

Granilla's friend who is oddly attached to Granilla despite a 30 year age difference and who is also an old maid (though she's not really old yet). We'll call her Conjoined-Granilla.

Conjoined-Granilla's parents.

Topics of conversation included dogs, Sumo, and makeup. It also included questions like "So when is Sumo getting a little sister?" (My response, "Never, hopefully." In case you were curious, that answer went over like a ton of bricks.) I wanted to gouge out my eyes with a spoon. Except that I drank a lot, and thus survived.

There was one conversation, however, that deserves special mention.

We were cleaning up after the dinner in the kitchen. Sumo was running around in euphoria because there were lots of people showering him with attention, some of whom brought him gifts. The doors that are usually closed so that he can't break stuff were temporarily open. He went running from the kitchen like a bat out of hell into the dining room to seek and destroy expensive china and crystal.

The Old Maid Brigade said, "Oh look! The boy doesn't want to be in the kitchen. All of the women want to be in the kitchen and the little boy wants to leave the kitchen to go and explore. Boys don't want to be in the kitchen."

My response, "I don't really want to be in the kitchen, now, either. Gotta go chase him!"

That, too, went over like a ton of bricks.

It is my observation that people make really vacuous and stupid comments when they search for small talk ESPECIALLY when children are involved. But I was still horrified by the sexist and inane remark.

Believe me. With that cast of characters in the kitchen, I could think of LOTS of other places I'd rather be.

That comment and many others are the reason that people like me will always dread Thanksgiving dinner. But now on to the hawtness of the Christmas season, biotches! Let's throw the rest of that effing leftover bird away and move on to other hawtness!