Greetings from Hull

Days till Thanksgiving: Tomorrow

Save your jokes

Home, sweet home! I made it to Hull mostly intact, although my flight was rather... eventful. We were supposed to leave at 10:50pm, but the flight was delayed half an hour, and then we didn't actually get onto the plane until sometime around 11:40. Once we were seated, we were informed that the fuel truck wasn't working probably, and that the Jet Blue people were as pissed off as we were. Around midnight, the fueling was finally finished, and we were free to take off... right into the Mist of Doom. It was so goddamn turbulent that I was convinced (as usual) that we were going to plummet right out of the sky. Luckily, they fed me lots of cookies and diet coke, and Nirvana's original MTV Unplugged show from 93 was on, so at least if those had been my last moments, I could've died happily.

We landed around 1am at Logan, where I was greeted by my dad, brother, and quasi-step-mother, and the horrific Sounds of New England, some offensive, blaring tape of animal hoots and screams that sound more like feeding time on the Serengeti than a quiet night in the woods of Massachusetts. And the sounds followed you into the elevators, and right over to your car, and continued to ring in your head until you finally managed to get home.

This morning (okay so it was 12:30pm, but I had just woken up, so for all intents and purposes it was morning) my mother picked me up and we enjoyed a fun-filled morning of pretending to be townies: we went to the magnificent Schooners.

Resistance is futile: You are trapped here forever

Now nothing - nothing - screams Hull Townie more than enjoying two bloody marys before 1pm at Schooners on the shore. I was lucky enough not only to watch some 60 year old man literally fall asleep in his food (and then be reprimanded by his wife who walked in, smacked him, and told him to stop drinking before the afternoon), but to also bear witness to my freshman year high school English teacher and Class of 2003 Advisor. This man is somewhat of a legend in Hull because he takes it upon himself to latch onto the "cool" kids of the various grades, and tries his best to make everyone think that he's not a pudge, middle-aged, closeted homosexual, but an awesome, beer chugging, everyone's-favorite-guy. Because nothing says "Awesomely Cool" like trying to pretend like you're a super popular 15 year old. Totally.

My mother almost fell off her chair with excitement, knowing that every time I've talked to this man, I've either called him an idiot, fought with him over his nefarious ways, or called him out for playing favorites and being pathetic.


Mom: I'll pay you $50 if you go over and talk to him.

Me: No way in hell! The last time I talked to him I told him he was unfit to be a teacher!

Mom: Okay, make it $100.

Me: No way!

Mom: I'll make it $200 if you spill your drink on him.


It's so good to be home.

Tomorrow is our annual Thanksgiving Dinner, held at the home of my mother's best friend (and basically my second mother.) We're heading over there at noon, which means I'll be drunk at 12:30, napping by 2pm, awake and drunk again at 4, asleep by 6, and then up and refreshed for us to go shopping with Kristyn and her entourage, because it'll be Black Friday, baby! And nothing is more exciting than blowing your entire paycheck on heavily discounted goods. Pounds of Ralph Lauren sweaters, and hideous holiday decorations from Target, here we come!