uncomfort food

Thanksgiving was great. Yesterday, I was starting to think that Thanksgiving is going to bump Christmas off as my favorite holiday. Crazy, right?? I never thought this was possible. The reason is because during Thanksgiving, everyone is home, and there's nothing but good family fun with lots of food. There's no pressure behind anything. You don't have to worry about buying gifts for people and stressing over whether they'll like it or not. There's no holiday shopping frenzy. And the weather is just mildly cold.

I ate so much food. Not only did I eat a lot, but I ate way too fast. It felt like a big rock of food was passing through my system. I was in so much pain with my food baby. I felt like I was drunk off food. Without one ounce of liquor in my system, I couldn't get up, I wanted to fall asleep, I could barely keep my eyes open, and focusing was a physical impossibility. It was awful. I had never felt that disgusting or uncomfortable in my life.

I managed to get up and stumble to the bathroom. My sister was in there, and I had to wait as patient as I could for her to get out. I waited for about 10 minutes before knocking on the door and telling her to hurry up. While she was washing her hands, I barged in and locked her in there with me. For a minute, I thought about regurgitating my food, but I didn't have my toothbrush, and I didn't want to have that gross taste of acid and greenbean casserole in my mouth. My sister left, so I just sat on the john. I tried to focus on something else... anything... in order to transfer my attention away from the dreadful pain in my stomach. Twenty minutes of sweat and tears later, the pain subsided to a bearable stage, and I felt okay to get up and walk around again. Forget about Bill Cosby and the kids, I dropped off the entire Rockets team at the pool.

My grandma's house has this ghetto toilet where if you throw even one piece of toilet paper in, it will clog. No doubt. So, I cleaned up, flushed, and washed my hands twice with soap. Then, I hear a funny noise coming from the plumbing system. I look down, and everything was still there. "Shit," I thought. Literally. I closed the lid and searched frantically around the bathroom for something to fix the problem. Of course, I find nothing.

Quickly, I walked outside to look for help. I brushed through the crowd of relatives wondering who would be able to help me without exposing this scandal to the entire family. Finally, I spotted my grandpa. Good ol' grandpa!! He's at the stage in life where nothing is embarrassing anymore! This was great! Plus, he'll know what I need to do. This was his house after all, so who would be a better advisor? Plus, he was by himself. Perfect! His hands were wrapped behind his back, and he was waddling around in his house slippers, fleece vest, and oversized beanie hat observing all his children and grandchildren. He is so cute.

I quietly slipped beside him and whispered, "Grandpa, where's your plunger?"

"Huh? What did you say?" he asked.

"Your plunger. Where is it?"

"What??" he repeated, cupping his right hand to his ear.

"I clogged the toilet. I need to find the PLUNGER."

"I can't hear you."

"I NEED THE PLUNGER!"

Everyone stopped, turned around, looked at me, and burst into laughter.

Good ol' grandpa. Sure enough. He didn't make fun of me or anything. He had a straight, innocent look on his face just as I thought he would, oblivious to the chaos around us, and simply said, "Oh! The plunger is outside. Follow me."

As I walked grudgingly behind him, my cousins were laughing and pointing at me, and my head was hung down with shame and humiliation. There really was nothing I could say to ease the situation.

Grandpa got me the plunger and even offered to help. Kill me now.

Good job, Christmas. You are still number one. Don't worry, Thanksgiving. You are still... dare I say it?... number two.