Thanksgiving Redux (or maybe just Dux).

The holiday week has come and gone leaving one month until the next. As a young adult (who peruses the teen section at libraries... FOR BOOKS!), the most exciting part about holidays such as Thanksgiving and X-Mas isn't the meals/gifts/historical or religious observance, but that many friends return "home" and chieng out. While I missed a couple of friends this last round due to a conflicting work schedule and issues with waking up before noon, Friday night I caught up with most of the dudes for a game of poker. A game that was completely legal. Srsly. I ended up finishing third in our tourney, but was saddened at all of the friends I had to take out along the way. Poker is a horrible game to play with returning friends. You beat them and they leave or vise versa. We should've played multiple games of Scrabble or Pictionary (btw, Draw My Thing on iminlikewithyou.com is my new favorite thing)... or maybe no games! Most of the fellas chung out the night before at bars, but I do not go to bars. Bars are filled with people who I despise... complete strangers having the dumbest conversations imaginable and wasting money getting stupid drunk... dudebros who are there for women and will actually meet and possibly take home women... cute ladies who I don't want to talk to because they're probably dumb... ugly ladies who shouldn't be at a bar because they're ugly (get drunk at home!)... etc. etc. etc. Only on occassions where I binge drink am I able to go to and remain at a bar. So, why don't I just go binge drink and chiengalang around with my buddies? Drinking is expensive when you need to get drunk to not want to leave. On average, it costs $30 to want to keep hanging out at the bar. In this economy!?! Shyeah right! I can spend $30 and really want to stay at home and have a much better time (and guarantee getting laid... a young adult has needs!). I suppose if I were a real young adult, I could've just hosted some type of get-together at my spacious apartment downtown. Unfortunately, I'm a fake young adult and my bedroom at the rents' isn't big enough for the me plus anybody else. There's something to the philosophy, first you get the job, then you get the khakis, and then you get the girls/own apartment. I need to find "the job." Then I can chieng out with the homies, find love on eharmony.com ('cuz OKCupid must be broken...), and raise three children of different national descents. This is the dream.