Well another Thanksgiving is on the books. I did manage to shower, shave, and coordinate a stylish ensemble (black with black; PRADA sunwear) to go to market yesterday. The supermarket was virtually empty with the exception of two old, Croc-wearing lesbians with mannish haircuts from Central Casting discussing a cabbage and an Asian family of eight who were all clustered together sing songing through a very long list of grocery items. Obvi they were prepping Thanksgiving dinner; one of the teenage girls carried a boxed cherry pie, ahem–vertically, and an elderly woman was clutching at a large bag of cubed bread like it was a lifejacket on the Titanic. I wanted to insert myself into their business but kept it moving in the pickle aisle like Cindy Crawford working Versace in the 90s.
I managed to pull off a reasonable facsimile of Thanksgiving dinner; I made that notorious white trash green bean casserole with the crunchy, canned onion topper, a skillet full of sweet potatoes carmelized in heavy butter, brown sugar and Kahlúa, and a pan of basic, but moist, stuffing. I skipped the WHOLE turkey bullshit by ordering two extra thick slices of white breast at the deli section. Meh. It all worked. I also bought a brand of frozen pumpkin pie that I’ve enjoyed before but sort of fucked up by setting my oven to the wrong temp. Essentially I baked a pie for nearly 3 hours as I set the oven too low. I still ate it though with a major dollop of Cool Whip which is about as American Thanksgiving tradition as you can get.
Chatted with mother for 45-minutes and it was the same litany of narcissistic neediness and selfishness that I’ve heard since father passed. She’s quite capable of opening her home to family but chooses not to. You cannot state “i’ve cooked enough goddamn holiday dinners” while simultaneously lamenting that you’re alone at the holidays. There’s a disconnect there that could become the thread of a one act Tennessee Williams-like play staged in a 70s Italian Provencal dining room. Think gold leaf like a Persian. And then add more gold shit with biggish cherub chandeliers, dangling crystals, and a brooding portrait of dead Nonna printed on canvas to look real painting-like.
The telly was a virtual wasteland of crap yesterday; so many cowboy Westerns and not one faggy musical to sing along with. I seem to recall, back in the day, the TV would telecast something big like “The Sound of Music” or “Auntie Mame” on holidays. But the holidays aren’t what they used to be as Black Friday now begins on Thanksgiving at 2pm with several national retailers opening their doors. Can’t those poor $9 buck an hour sales associates have a damn day off to argue why they’re still single with grandma?
I’m off work today. I don’t think I’ll venture out to any major retailer for Black Friday deals; I don’t need a thing and my holiday shopping list is slim to begin with. I may take a run through a trendy lil’ boutique I recently visited as they have the most divoon ‘diamond’ festooned evening bag clutch that is the PERFECT Xmas gift for a society butterfly of mine. I may spring for that today; I believe one should always create a bit of Christmas ‘surprise & delight’ for a good friend or family member. It keeps them believing in the magic of the season.