Fuck the white man's holiday, right up it's Indian hating ass

For real, Thanksgiving is hella beat. Let's see if I can remember the premise. Bunch of white folks come to the shores of what will later be known as the United States...run across some brown folks...that would be "Injuns" (my people are part Chickasaw, I can say "Injun" so shut the fuck up)...have a gigantaur feast and then, oh yeah...spead disease through their tribes, introduce alcoholism (thanks!), steal their land and pretty much slaughter them. That sounds about right. Oh, let me be fair, this was not during just one visit but over many. I don't want to seem like a revisionist.

Anyhoo, as a result of that is seems a bit messed up to be gathering around a big hunk of meat and some sides to "celebrate" how "thankful" we should all be...that being said...I swear to GOD my mom can cook the shit out of some Thanksgiving dinner!

This TG my little Ms. AARP came to visit me and to make a tur-kay dinner in my first solo apartment. (Yep, 29 and first apartment alone, but in NYC I'm pretty much ahead of the curve...this declaration was in case someone in Nebraska just HAPPENS to come across my humble little blog) Two days before the "big" day me and the old lady were going back and forth about maybe going out to dinner, I was like it's no thang but a chicken wang, you got to cook, not me. Cause my mom is all mom like she was like, no, no, no, I'll cook, just give me a list of what you want and I will make it for you. At that point it was SO on. Like it had been broughten and shit. Just a little something to walk around with...if your mom calls you from the Associated Market on Waverly and asks if you want okra in your collard greens it is now on 11.

So here was the list:
Turkey
Dressing (my family is southern, we don't say stuffing, that is lame)
Mac and Cheese
Collard Greens
Corn on the cob
Cornbread (or some bread products...I HEART canned biscuits, yum!)
Yams
Sweet Potato Pie

As the list is being made out I was like, sorry Pocahontas... gurl, I'm going to be eating in your honor and cursing those devils as I get that second helping of dressing. For real, it's a tribute and whatnot.

When I got home that night she had made not one but TWO sweet potato pies and was in crazy ass prep mode. By the time I got up the next morning the turkey was baking, ALL the food was prepped and she had cleaned the dishes that were already used...oh and lady didn't even break a fucking sweat. I'm so not going to be the mom and wife my mom was/is...shit. I mean I can bake cookies like a mother so I got something going for me. Oh, and my sweet ass. Thank GOD. Back to the food.

Around 3pm everything is done and I'm about to eat my own face, or at least nah off a lip. Moms and I opened a bottle of some red vino...she read from her Ruth Westheimer autobiography (don't ask) and I was reading some posts from the ALWAYS HE-LARIOUS The Superficial website...for real, that shit has me on the damn ground for days at a time. At 4 my girl Latasha came over to partake in the festivities and it just got wrong.

Now when I say wrong it wasn't like we acted up a la eating with our hands and throwing shit around (LT did break a wine glass and spill wine all up on my West Elm table but it came out, it's all gravy and blase blah) but it was just all the goddamn food was.so.fucking.over.whelming. I had to stop my mom from making the corn on the cob cause there was nowhere else to put the food but she made the yummiest pinto beans with turkey neckbone. I mean really, I could have wept. And let me tell you, I almost did when I took my first bite into the mac and cheese. I took me every ounce of power not to go towards the white light it was so good. Turkey tender as hell...dressing and gravy, succulent...collard greens, you have no idea so don't even try and relate. And the sweet potato pie...she killed it. Oh, and if I could have thrown up in my mouth just a little to have made room for the mashed potatoes that I didn't even touch I would have lost it completely. For real, my mom is better than your mom...come to grips with it now.

So yes, that day is typically wack...if people have no place to go they feel bad and if they don't want to go anywhere they are made to feel like a freak (for real, it's no big thang, just watch some TV and catch up on your mags). My thing is this...it's a bullshit day but if you can get your grub on the right way do so, and talk shit about the "oppresors" while doing it...you'll feel better. Hell, if you are in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn next year come on by...my mom is coming again and she is bound to make TOO much food.

Swalla!