The Digital Fairytale

Thanksgiving – Thank God it is only once a year

I love my family – screwed up as they are. I just thank my lucky stars I only have to do this once a year. I come from an old southern family – the type of family that is the thing of stereotypes. If there is something that isn’t popular, that we don’t like, we just pretend it doesn’t exist. Denial in my family is a way of life.

Our Thanksgiving history is the stuff of legends. Things like my brother dropping out of his Ph.D program to become a vacumn cleaner salesman (first of two), my brother announcing he had dropped out of a second Ph.D program to breed rats in a lab, mom and dad announcing their intent to build a new house so mom could live with her girlfriend, grandma going for a naked stroll through the hospital, friend Becky asking to pass the gravy and for a side of sperm (her and her girlfriend wanted to have a baby), dad shooting a hole through the side of the house thinking I was a burglar, my brother announcing he was getting married to a woman from the Philippines he had met at a conference years before (not only had the family not met her, but she was a catholic – it nearly killed my grandmother), cousin Terry (fundamentalist side of the family) walking in on me making out with my boyfriend, and my parents walking in on me groping a male nurse at the hospital.

These are the Hallmark moments that mark our family holidays. It is no wonder we all hate this f**king holiday. Typically we just have the meal catered and try to get it over with as quick as possible. But something convinced my mother that we need to prepare the meal this year – or as will happen that I need to prepare the meal. You see, my mom can’t even heat a can of soup without burning it (Martha Stewart she isn’t). I am the only one that actually cooks (I learned out of necessity when I was a child), so I will drag myself in Wednesday evening and start slaving over the kitchen to prep the meal for Thursday – weeee, what fun.

I already know that my mom’s girlfriend is bringing her son (he just got out of prison AGAIN) and the local family gossip is that my father has a new girlfriend that he is planning on introducing. Hopefully this won’t be another for the record books, but it is already shaping up to be. I wonder if I can come up with an excuse not to go between now and tomorrow morning.

Tags: car, drama, family, food, holiday, life, men, nurse, relationships, Thanksgiving, turkey

Attack of the Flying Dildo

By now, all my friends have heard (and many strangers too). Yes, I have been mentally and emotionally scared by a horrific attack by a flying dildo. I will never be able to look at a dildo the same way again .

My story begins on one fateful summer day in July. Me the innocent and sweet person that I am just driving along minding my own business. (Okay, I was really doing 90 as I was running late as usual and dodging in and out of rush hour traffic – but you miss the point.) Anyway, I was driving along minding my business passing through Florence (KY) you know the place with the ‘Florence Y’all’ water tower when out of nowhere this giant neon pink and purple dildo comes flying towards my car. Not having anywhere I could go, I just let it come for me – I’ve never been afraid of a cock before and I’m not going to start now. So my life flashes before me in slow motion and I think is this how it ends killed by a giant cock. Then smack, the dildo hits my windshield leaving a cock head shaped crack (if you are imaginative, you can even see it as a cock head that is cumming, the cracks shot out in front like it is shooting its load [or maybe I just need to get laid]). To add insult to injury, rather than bouncing off or falling off to the side, the dildo just sat there on my windshield. So here you have me barreling towards Cincinnati in rush hour traffic with a neon pink and purple dildo on my hood (I guess I could look at it as free advertising). I had ample time to study the dildo in detail, and hundreds of questions popped through my mind. Where did it come from, why my vehicle, who the hell throws a dildo out of their vehicle on the interstate, what if they didn’t throw it out, what if it came out, what were these crazy dildo users doing, and lastly where had that dildo been (that thought was just too horrific to imagine – I was passing through Florence and racing towards Cincinnati afterall, neither exactly an accepting gay mecca). The thought of where it had been too horrible to visualize, I decide to roll down the windows and crank the stereo – might as well make the best of a beautiful day. Then traffic began to slow – congestion during rush hour who ever heard of such – and here I am windows down, Cher blaring on the stereo, with a giant dildo on my hood. Needless to say the looks, pointing, and laughter were quiet memorable. At this point I had decided to leave the dildo – I refused to touch it without protection (always wrap it up, or at least in this case get a rubber glove or paper towel or something to grab the mysterious flying dildo with).

Slowly but surely traffic begins to flow again and I am back on my way to Richmond Indiana. I finally get through Florence and find a truck stop to get gas and remove my extra passenger at. I pull off, fill up the tank and see this guy staring at my vehicle. I muster in my bitchiest tone – ‘what you never seen a cock that big’. His respond ‘nope, can’t say I have’. My retort, ‘My sympathy to your wife’. He just looked confused. I finished filling my tank and then grabbed one of the papertowels out of the dispenser and use it to throw the flying dildo in the trash.

I proceed on the rest of my trip without my extra cargo and arrive uneventful in Richmond. At the hotel, one of the staff comments ‘what happened, that looks like one nasty crack in your window’. I recount my story with her eyes getting bigger and bigger throughout.

Without a doubt, it will require years of therapy to overcome this horrific experience – okay maybe not. More than anything it is par for the course, if crazy crap didn’t happen to me, I wouldn’t be me. In truth, the thought going through my mind, ‘damn is that what my life has come to that my truck is getting more action than I am. Needless to say, I haven’t fixed the windshield, I have kinda gotten used to it. Plus it is entertaining to me when people ask about the crack and I get to recount my story to them and see the reactions.

Tags: best of, car, Cincinnati, crazy, Florence, flying dildo, Indiana, Kentucky, life, Richmond