Little Help? The Greatest Thanksgiving TV and Movie Moments

I'm really getting in the spirit of the holidays this year y'all. This is my partial list of greatest Thanksgiving TV/Movie moments of all time. I know I'm probably missing a million- little help? So far I have only 6 and 2 are from Addam's Family Values. What? It's my blog.

1. Wednesday Addam's soliloquy stopping the Thanksgiving feast in Addams Family Values:

Wednesday: Wait! We cannot break bread with you.
Amanda: Huh? Becky, what's going on?
Becky: [whispered] Wednesday!
Wednesday: You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans, and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the road sides, you will play golf, and enjoy hot hors d'oeuvres. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They have said, "Do not trust the Pilgrims, especially Sarah Miller."
Amanda: Gary, she's changing the words.
Wednesday: And for all these reasons I have decided to scalp you and burn your village to the ground.

2. Charlie Brown making toast instead of turkey in A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving:

Charlie Brown: I can't cook a Thanksgiving dinner. All I can make is cold cereal and maybe toast.
Linus van Pelt: That's right. I've seen you make toast.

(later) Peppermint Patty: What kind of Thanksgiving dinner is this? Where's the turkey, Chuck? Don't you know anything about Thanksgiving dinners? Where's the mashed potatoes? Where's the cranberry sauce? Where's the pumpkin pie?

3. Grandpa Simpson's explanation of the Walking Bird (The Simpsons "Lisa vs. Malibu Stacy"):

... Anyway, about my washtub. I'd just used it that morning to wash my turkey, which in those days was known as a walking bird. We'd always have walking bird on Thanksgiving with all the trimmings: cranberries, injun eyes, yams stuffed with gunpowder. Then we'd all watch football, which in those days was called "baseball"...

4. Pugsley Addam's "Eat Me! I'm a Turkey" song from Addam's Family Values (as part of Gary's vision of course):

Camp Children: Eat us! Hey, its Thanksgiving Day! Eat us, we make a nice buffet! We lost the race with Farmer Ed, eat us 'cause we're good and dead. White man or red man from east, north or south, chop off our legs, and put 'em in your mouth!
Pugsley: Eat me!
Camp Children: Sautéed or barbecued!
Pugsley: Eat me!
Camp Children: We once were pets but now we're food! We won't stay fresh for very long! So eat us before we finish this song! Eat us before we finish this song!

5. The Friends Episode when Monica puts a turkey on her head to cheer up Chandler:



6. Beverly Hills 90210: Brandon Walsh decides to invite Jack, a homeless veteran, to his family's house for Thanksgiving dinner. Jim, Brandon's dad, is a bit wary ("Did you ever see such a literal interpretation of the Golden Rule?") but then gives in when a bath and fresh clothes let the real, respectable Jack shine through.

7. The Family Guy episode when they spoof what John Goodman's family would look like at Thanksgiving:

Lois: You know some people would be happy to have this food, like John Goodman's family.

8. The Ice Storm, the Thanksgiving angst scene where Ms. Ricci has yet another diatribe about the plundering and pillaging of the red man by the white man:



9. and thanks to William's suggestion, pretty much all of Planes, Trains and Automobiles as Steve Martin and John Candy try to make their way home to Chicago for Thanksgiving. A ton of great quotes are here.

10. And from Mica, Home for the Holidays:



11. From Kori, the Thanksgiving episode of Everyboday Hates Chris when Chris gives a speech to his class about how he is grateful that he is not Native American:

12. From Tiffani, the infamous Gobble episode of South Park:

San Francisco in September #1: Sea Lions make me use too many exclamation marks!!

I know its like the most touristy thing ever to go to Fisherman's Wharf to see the Sea Lions when you come to San Francisco, but it still of my favorite things to do. I love these massive beasts SO much.

The Sea Lions of Pier 39 started coming in 1989 (ironically the year of my my first ever visit to San Francisco) after the earthquake that year. I thought they had always been there, but I suppose "always" is relative.

They are SO funny. They have territorial fights on each of the platforms. One guy will try to jump up on one and the guy who is already there will shove him off with his flippers and giant neck and ultimately there will be a huge splash! And they bark like crazy! They never shut up! I took a movie of them that i will post when i get back, you will laugh. The boys can grow to be 850 pounds! And they grow this weird lump on their forehead- the bigger it is the more dominant they are. Oh my god, I love them so much...

(better pictures will be posted when I get back- I forgot my camera cord so I can only post pics taken with the cell phone.)

Why it's Harder to Behave in a Mansion than it is at Church

This evening my girlfriend and I went to a political soiree, a "fundraiser" if you will. I suppose this inherently means money, but as a low-budget lobbyist this is a part of the work that will always be a bit funny to me. Funny like allergic. But it's the mild sort of allergy that can be controlled with a well-planned pre-treatment of Benedryl.

So I learned tonight that it is SO much harder to behave properly when in the breast of the bourgeoisie than anywhere else.

Previously I would have told you that the hardest place to behave is in church, preferably on Christmas Eve when you're high on too much wassail and the anticipation of presents and sitting between your beautiful and hilarious sister and brother who like to pinch and elbow jab. At least when you're in church you have your Mom just down the pew to hold you accountable and pull you back into proper behavior after the lady directly behind you sings "Angels We Have Heard on High" at an octave seven times higher than everyone else- with excessive vibrato of course.

At the rich people's house tonight there was no such accountability. In fact, I found myself unable to even look at my girlfriend or risk dissolving into totally inappropriate giggles. Allow me to elaborate:

The Children of the Corn oil paintings. There were three different oil portraits, apparently of our hostess and her younger brother immortalized as the beautiful blond pale spooky children they most definitely were at some point. The screamed Flowers in the Attic. And they were the focal point of the otherwise painfully overdone Japanese-silk encrusted sitting room. I just couldn't stop staring even though they freaked me the hell out.

The Dogs. This house came equipped with two matching little dogs- I think they might be called Maltese. Their hair was done in bows and I will admit that they were pretty damn adorable. Our host identified them as "Trouble and More Trouble" which reminded me of dogs I was introduced to once named "Theo-dorable and Theo-terrible." Hilarious.

So the two Maltese spent their evening either jumping around demanding cold salmon from the buffet or taking it easy and lounging luxuriously on one of the $10K settees. My friend kept daring me to take pictures of the dogs while the guest of honor - a political candidate - spoke which made me want to laugh even more. I only managed to get one that wasn't terrible because it's really hard to shoot in mansion-ambiance unobtrusively with no flash. I should get at least a dollar for getting this picture:



The Pigeons. All the while the candidate spoke, there was a strange cooing sound coming from another room. I swear to God that at first I thought there was a third Maltese being tortured in some remote corner of the mansion but then I realized it was more of a bird-like sound. I suppose that because they were rich it was probably more likely an exotic and endangered Peacock Pheasant than a common pigeon, but it sounded like a pigeon to me. Or maybe it actually was torture that I was hearing.

The lack of women. At this party of about 20-30 people, my girlfriend and I just may have been the only women actually there as guests. At first I thought there were other women there, but then my friend pointed out that these women were in fact, the help.

The Hostess. The Lady of the House. It was her home, clearly not her new husband's. While she obviously worked tirelessly to be the hostess with the mostest, laying out lavish platters of pork, salmon, tomatoes in a balsamic reduction, her hospitality was trumped by the permanent glare that graced her otherwise very pretty face.

The Gay Filmmaker Son. He had adorable growing out dyed black hair and had just graduated from art/film school. In true Royal Tenenbaum fashion, he talked of his love for dark violent films and disdain for his family. When I commented about a nice picture I had seen in the library (yes, a library) of him and his mother, he sneered "the only reason it's there is because she looks immaculate." I genuinely liked him- I look forward to seeing his Children of the Corn/Flowers in the Attic/Maltese-inspired movies some day.

The Kid's Table. No matter what my girlfriend and I could say or do, from the moment we arrived we were officially "young ladies" and were promptly hustled into the kitchen by one of the hosts for the "young men" waiting. We should have gotten an entertainment fee. Or jelly beans.

It was all just fabulous- you just can't make this shit up. Just try to behave like a grown-ass adult, or better, a "professional" in this scenario and see how well you do. I'll just keep trying to take covert pictures of tiny beasts and not spill the best mojito I've ever drank on the quarter-million dollar Spanish tile.

Animal Home Invasions!!!

If you enjoyed the tale of my legendary possum chase, you will definitely be amused by my sister's encounter with the bat in her living room last night. Who knew that brooms played such a key role in home self-defense?? Enjoy!

Similarities

Remember those electronic phone books- like before blackberries, palm pilots, etc? They would be about the size of a calculator with a full keyboard and you would thumb in each of your contacts.

Well imagine one the size of one of those TI 83 graphing calculators, maybe more like one and a half times the size actually. I found one of those on the shelf of Mohammad's apartment as we were packing up his stuff to move.

I picked it up and giggled a little, and mimed how it would make you walk crooked cuz it was so bulky and heavy. The outside of it was that sort of texture that used to be really common that would get sticky and crusty no matter even if you didn't put it in your chewed up gum wrapper-filled purse.

He looked back at me, forehead wrinkled, "maybe somebody would want it. It used to be great."

I stared wide-eyed back and opened it up and jammed my finger on every button uselessly trying to turn it on. "It doesn't work. Its gigantic. Its sticky. No one will use it. We're throwing it out."

To which he shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands up and stated "It's such a shame."

It's such a shame. Almost as if it was taken from my father's lips. I've realized that my honey is similar to my dad many, many times before, but this simple gesture, the use of the words "it's such a shame" are the cherry on top. I love this regcognition I've seen in both of them, that something is old and broken and useless coupled with the unwillingness to get rid of it.

What makes it even more funny is that I co-opt one of my mother's tactics, placing the humongous glorified calculator in a place slightly out of his sight, and then smoothly slide it into one of the bags of trash that were on its way out the door.

Later that night Mohammad asks me, "So did you throw it out?" I avoid the question. I think to myself, young man, you have some learning to do. My dad would have anticipated my mother's move and pulled that calculator out of the bag on his way out to the trash and then place it in the basement, safe out of my mother's sight. He would have had the sneaky smile on his face all the while he was doing it too.

When I tell my sister and brother later of the incident and reiterate once more that I am dating my father, Reem mentions that there is in fact some form of an electronic address book actually sitting on top of the bar in the basement of the parents' house.

And then, just moments ago as Mohammad realized that I was writing all this down - I needed to remember the model number of the graphing calculator I mention above so I had to ask him, see- he starts arguing how revolutionary his address book thingy was, how it was like a mini-computer and that he can't believe I'm comparing it to a graphing calculator.

Not in function baby, in size. He then references some arabic saying something like "don't mock the glorified once they've fallen."

Oh man.

When your friends lock you out of the cabin

I got to spend a couple days last week in the Blue Ridge Mountains on a retreat with my coworkers. It was beautiful up there; we stayed in this lovely cabin with a hot tub, pool table and the most beautiful view of the mountains.

Since there were ten of us staying there, some of us brought air mattresses for ourselves. Mica and I decided that we should set ours up on the big old deck and sleep under the stars.



We stayed up pretty late that night, eating, drinking, bonding as is proper during "retreating" type scenarios, and at about 1 am I set up my bed space. Almost everyone else was still awake and hanging out. I fell asleep inhaling the clean crisp perfect-temperature mountain air.

I woke up around 5am. The sky was this amazing charcoally misty grey. It was stunning and I felt so lucky to have this opportunity to be out of the city and see dawn in a way I never do. I also felt like I had to pee, per usual considering I've had a lifetime case of nocturia.

I head towards the kitchen door to go inside to the bathroom. Oddly, it was locked and clearly not opening. Huh. That's weird, I think to myself. I walk around to the other door that leads to the master bedroom and find it locked too. Mica stirred at this point from her air mattress and I whisper to her "did they lock us out?"

Well now this is getting kind of hilarious but I'm also feeling some uh, increased bladder pressure. I'm notorious for my teeny tiny bladder. Its also 5 am and I'm kinda asleep and maybe not thinking as swiftly as possible.

I assess the situation I'm in: the only way you can access the deck are through these two doors- its high off the ground. There's no getting on or off of it. I have no problem peeing in the woods but the "woods" are about 20 feet beneath me and I am SO not about to attempt to pee off the side of the deck. I contemplate for a split second the hot tub on the far end of the deck but decide that I'm nowhere near that desperate yet.

I walk back to the other side and try the kitchen door again. Its still locked. I really just couldn't believe that my urban-ass coworkers locked us out. I mean, and locked themselves in, in the middle of the country-ass country. There was a lot of disbelief and concern when Mica and I announced that we were setting up camp outside - discussion of bear attacks and the like - and how do they support our decision? By locking us out with the bears. Unbelievable yet also hilarious that you can take the city kids out the city but you can't take our we're-so-used-to-getting-robbed-in-Atlanta out of our lock turning, alarm-code punching fingers.

At this point I realize that Kori is asleep on the futon right next to the window on which I decide to tap with increasing urgency until he wakes up. I gesture madly at him to let me in- I really gotta go. And when you gotta go, you gotta go.

God bless you Kori. My bladder and I thank you for and apologize for interrupting the sleep you so very much need to gear up for starting the revolution.

After all this I still have a pretty lovely night- I wake up at various points and see the sun rising over the gorgeous mountain. The charcoal turned to purple turned to pink framed by trees that waved in the wind.

When confronted, none of my coworkers cop to being the perpetrator of our external imprisonment. None! Mmm hmm. Either they were too drunk to remember- or they are liars. I am delighted by either of the possibilities.

I realized later that I got a million chigger bites. So did Mica. But despite the bites and near bladder explosion, I am so grateful I was able to spend a night on that deck with that beautiful view and a couple days with some of the most wonderful people on earth. Despite their door-locking propensities.

One of the many joys of being the daughter of a Urologist

After an emotionally exhausting day characterized by repeating moments that I felt my blood come to a boil due to racism and ignorance from people who I really want to believe know and can do better, there's nothing that can cheer up a girl like talking to her father the urologist who has been seeing patients for the last 6 hours ("I only had seven minutes to eat half a sandwich!" he says.) Particularly when the conversation goes like this:

"Hi Dad."
"Hi Sweetheart, hold on one moment."

I then hear him say to someone near him, most likely my mother, also the nurse in his office,

"Scrotum Pain. Put down 'scrotum pain'."

Then speaking back to me he clarifies to me, "Don't worry, it's not my scrotum pain."

Who knew that all it would take to plaster a big ol' stupid grin across my face was hearing my dad say the words "Scrotum Pain"?

It was scrotum all along.

Naughty Arabic

This is an oldy but a goody, prompted by our discussion that the words "El Paso" in Arabic mean "his panties". Its pronounced more like "El Baso" because the Arabs don't have P sound and thus drink Bebsi on Beachtree Street. Don't even get me started on when they have to stop at the BB Gas Station.

We have ridiculously juvenile senses of humor around here. We love Arabic words that sound like naughty English words. Here is a list of some of them- we admit that some of them are kind of a stretch and some are used very rarely but are nonetheless, hilarious. Credit goes to Emil for his genius on the original version and Mohammad for proofreading this new version.

Yufakker (pronounced- You fucker): "he is thinking."

Wadthafak (wha-the-fuck) : if said as a question, means "did he hire you?, as a statement, means "he hired you." Example conversation: "Wadthafak Emil?" "La! Wathafak!"

Faqat (fuck-it): only

Faqr (fucker): poverty

Fuggham (Fugg 'em. Pronounce drunkenly): to permeate

Shitty (SHIT-Tee): winter (Lebanese dialect)

Faq (fuck): to knock out, gouge out

Fak (fuck): redemption

hur (whore): lake

Hur (whore): having eyes with a marked contrast of white and black. Example: "Reem wa Sara intu Hur."

Yufakk (you fuck): loosened

Shit (Shit!): to burn, especially food.

Fart (fart): excess or exaggeration.

Butt (butt): Duck

Dam: blood

Hauz (hoes): possession

homo: command to "go around" something, a house, a block. Example: "Mohammad! Laith! Luai! Homo fil souk!"