Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s that time of year again, isn’t it?  It’s cold out, the people who were casually just fucking over the summer are now “OFFICIALLY A COUPLE,” every asshole ever is preparing to get engaged…and the list goes on.  To add insult to injury, it’s almost time to go home and visit for Thanksgiving.  I get enough anxiety over seeing my family, who pester me with questions such as, “are you seeing anyone?” and “do you have a job yet?” and “why don’t you just quit playing games and go back to school?”  Usually the only way to assuage the nervous fits they send me into is by drinking…heavily.

Luckily for all of us, the night before Thanksgiving encourages blacking out in a local bar more than horny frat boys do at a mixer.  If you’re like me and fled your hometown without looking back after high school graduation, this can be both a fun and educational experience.  I always enjoy running into people I haven’t seen since I threw my graduation cap in the air (given I’m incredibly inebriated.  Otherwise, I run), mostly because I enjoy letting their failures make me feel better about my own life.  Here’s a few of the people you’ll probably encounter while home over Thanksgiving.



You  know this girl.  She was probably part of student council with you and had a tyrannical grasp over Homecoming and Prom committee, if only to ensure her name was always in the ballot box for a crown.  She’s been a serial dater since the sandbox days, and has since secured herself a boring husband who works in finance or some bullshit.  She was the first one of your circle of somewhat friends to get engaged, to no one’s surprise.  Since high school, she’s gotten a BA in some field such as psychology or sociology or something else she would have needed a Masters to get a job with, but since she isn’t the “career” type, she instead focused her efforts and energy into planning THE BEST WEDDING EVER (her words, no one else’s).  Since aforementioned wedding, she’s tapped into her entrepreneurial side and has probably started a business on Etsy selling customized wire hangers or wine glasses with glitter on them, or something equally as pragmatic.  She’s really excited for you to compliment her on her wedding band and ask her again about how long it took her to make each table at her reception’s centerpiece by hand.



What was he doing after high school?  10-life?  Nahhh just 7 with parole!  Literally nobody has seen this kid since you realized he actually went to your school when his name was announced at your high school commencement ceremonies.  Luckily, your former weed dealer will find a way to make an appearance at the townie bar the night before Thanksgiving, and he’ll be just as much of a disappointment to humanity as you would expect him to be.  He’ll be super excited to see you, because he suspects you might be the only person who hasn’t stuck around to hear about his arrests, but alas, you’ve figured out this kid has been to jail.  Whether you’re a super sleuth or his obvious (INSERT AREA CODE HERE) forearm prison tattoo gave it away, you’re savvy to his trickery and don’t give a single fuck about any of his thoughts on the latest policy on marijuana legalization.  Either way, he’s a great indicator that you might be doing…something…right with your life.  And, also, he’s a good reminder that you’re still not TOO old to know where to buy weed.



RIGHT GUYS!?  State in ’06?  That last pass?  Yeahhh…nobody gives a fuck anymore, because it’s 8 years later and people have moved on.  Either way, the former Varsity Jock still will be available to remind everyone how cool people used to think he was, and to let you know how he almost walked on at ‘Cuse if it weren’t for that recurring ACL injury.  These guys generally move on from high school to attend a larger state school, where they major in “Finance” with a concentration in “Fraternity Partying” and a minor “Douchebaggery.”  Running into them is exhausting and annoying, until you realize how fat they’ve gotten since they last caught that EPIC LAST PASS.



Wait what?!  In high school, there was a name for this crowd and it was “Drug Addicts Doomed to Work at Dunkin Donuts.”  Now, apparently, there is an actual subculture for the people who graduated 5 years ago and spend the nights they don’t have to head in early (because they’re not the opening Dunkin Donuts manager) out partying?  Apparently so.  You’ll find “The Raver”  (not to be confused with one Poe’s construction of “The Raven”) trolling local bars and looking as equally slutty on a Monday night as she would on a Saturday evening.  She will swear her life is based off of “good vibes and good culture” but we all know it’s based off of “good dick and good molly.”  Safe to say, you’ve done a lot better than “The Raver” has in life, but she probably has a way better Tijuana boob job than you.



Oh fuck me twice on Sunday.  This girl used to be fun.  She used to be cool.  Then she forgot her Plan B pill.  Now, she’s a MOM.  This title used to be a loosely used moniker, much like “father” or “religious figure,” but she’s brought new meaning to it.  She’ll run up to you, exclaiming HOW EXCITED SHE IS to see you, and then force you to bare through 25 minutes of iPhone pictures of her kids.  After lying and telling her, “yeah, they’re so cute, I can definitely understand why you gave up ALL THAT YOU HAD AHEAD OF YOU to have them,” she’ll somberly reply, “but you don’t know how hard it is to be a mother.”  Right, bitch, no, I do.  You look like you haven’t had a full shower in weeks.  You’re angry and pathetic and desperate for a friend, I get the gist of how HARD it is to be a mother; that’s why I continue to swallow, okay?



There’s a good chance this was your third circle friend in high school.  He or she was probably in a few of your classes.  For some reason or another, you two never became super close, but you’re very friendly and happy to see one another.  As much as you’d love to curse this individual for their monetary gain on their recent startup, you are genuinely HAPPY for them, because you know how cool of an individual they once were, and you have faith that what they’ve done must coincide with some of the same beliefs you two once shared in Dungeons and Dragons meetings…back then.



There is this weird sense of pity and sympathy for people who never leave their hometowns. On on hand, it’s great to run into them at the bar, 10 years after I left this town, to see that these guys are still here and will probably never leave.  On most other extremities, it’s depressing.  I get sad for the people who never got to experience other cultures, other life styles, other time zones.  At other times, I find them endearing and invaluable…because nothing is as great as being validated by a townie who says, “Did you see Felicia?!  I heard she has a cocaine problem now.”
And then you’re like, “yes…I heard she was a raver, too.?”

Happy Thanksgiving…or whatever.


After graduating from Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizadry, and realizing her degree in The History of Magic was hardly applicable in any employable realm, Alex decided to stop doing acid and actually get a BA in English. A comedy writer living in Brooklyn, NY, Alex enjoys stalking ex-boyfriends, drinking coffee, plotting ways to meet Suri Cruise, and drinking cheap wine out of an over priced Crate and Barrel glass. Follow her on Twitter if you're entertained by hot messes @Alex_Engelbert.

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