Thursday, November 04, 2004

Giving Back To Those Less Fortunate

Ok, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

I am hoping some of you could drop some pretty funny descriptions of your average Thanksgiving or some stories of past Thanksgiving family disasters.

My holiday will be fairly dull this year as I'm not going anywhere, thus no "my brother beat the shit out of my uncle for puking on the t.v. during the Cowboys game" stories.

I'll slap together the traditional meal (well I won't, that's a woman's job goddammit, my job is to stuff my face, burp at will, wear my 'fat' pants, watch football and fall asleep on the couch while a small puddle of drool begins to collect) at my place with all the fixins and spend the day with the homeless. Mind you, I will NOT be sharing any of my tasty meal with any homeless Wild Irish Rose drinking lush, just spending a few hours with them... mostly talking about the epic turkey dinner that's waiting for me at my cozy, heated home. I've found in the past that they (the homeless - at least I didn't call them "those people") really aren't worried about getting a hot meal as they are about getting some good ole' fashioned companionship and that's where I come in. Hey, I'm all about giving back.

I'll park my new Suburban up above this one bridge abutment that a few homeless have declared as their own. Kind of like underachieving "Lewis and Clark" type folks. Anyway, I'll roll my cooler down the hill (no, I'm not aiming for them, but if it happens to run a few over, that's the risk you gotta take for my companionship) and set up my fold-out chair with the footrest and cup holders that I use for tailgating. They're usually impressed with how such a fabulous piece of furniture folds up and fits into an easy to carry pouch with a shoulder sling. I plop down and say "Howdy folks, Happy Holidays to ya" as I take my gloves off in order to get my skully cap and leather jacket situated. "Good day to dress in layers, huh?" I say.

Then I flip my cooler, move my 3-tiered sandwich aside for later, and grab a frosty bottle of MacTarnahan’s. For the next few hours I slam beers, shattering each one upside the nearby bridge pier. It gets funnier with each damn beer it seems.

I tell them about the football games that will be on later that day, and even though they aren't interested, offer them some of my world-famous parlay selections for free.

Last year, one fellow named Gilbert stuck his head out from underneath a tattered sleeping bag and asked "Do the Lions still play every year on Thanksgiving?" I assured him that they did and he then asked "Do they still suck every year?" I went BWAAHAAAHAAA! and said "Yes they do Gillie, yes they do". As I leave I munch down my sandwhich and empty out anything left in the cooler, pack up my chair and say "See you fuckers next year then" as I dissappear back up over the hill.

It feels good to roll home with a good buzz and a hearty appetite knowing that you just gave back to the community. In my opinion, that's what the holidays are all about.

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