Keep it simple

I am the Queen of awkward conversation.

After four years of returning home for holiday breaks, I’ve perfected the art of a plastered smile, a fake laugh and an unnoticeable escape.

As a result, I’ve never held the “how’s college/what’s your major/what are you doing now” conversation for longer than 15 minutes.

Until Wednesday night.

The night before Thanksgiving, anyone who ever graduated from my high school crams into my local bar like sardines and pretends to care about the updated status of everyone else’s lives.

I begrudging attended and thought that, by standing in the corner, my four friends and I would be able to remain hidden while still having a full view of the bar.

I was wrong.

Within seconds I had been targeted.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeeeey!!!!!!!!!” A blond barbie-doll that I’d known in high school screeched.

She looked exactaly the same as she did when we graduated. Stick thin, bleach blond hair, perfect teeth. And was just as interesting.

“So, do you know how much cheaper it is to get your hair done on The Cape?”
For those who don’t speak snob, The Cape, is Cape Cod — her family has a house there. Of course.

“I totally got this jacket a T.J. Maxx. For like 20 bucks. I mean, how cheap is that?”

Well, I consider any form of clothes shopping a luxury, so…no, that’s not that cheap.
“I totally had a great internship at Johnson and Johnson this summer.”

Newsflash: we live five minutes from J&J headquarters. A lot of people have internships there.

And on and on it went. For 45 minutes! I couldn’t escape. I was stuck.
Long story short, because, trust me, I don’t want to put you through the same torture, I didn’t need to know her whole life story.

After that, the “how’s college/what’s your major/what are you doing now” conversation seemed like music to my ears.

Fly, Turkey

Rather than talk about what I did this weekend, which is really just more of the same, I would like to revel in the fact that Turkey Day is in five days!!!!

To me, Thanksgiving means a number of different things:

1) It means returning to a civilized state — New Jersey, where only the strong survive.
2) It means eating my body weight in turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and my aunt’s famous pepperoni rolls.
3) It means seeing my best friends from home, go to our local bar and reminding ourselves how much cooler college is.
4) It means watching the Macys’s Thanksgiving Day parade, then crossing the Hudson to spend Turkey Day with my gigantic Irish/Italian family in New York, the best city in the world.

And although the cheesy-holiday-song season is most commonly associated with Christmas and Hanukkah, I would like to share a doozie of a Thanksgiving song — one that is just begging to become a household favorite — in an attempt to promote this often overlooked holiday song market.

Please, share this soon-to-be holiday favorite with every small child you know.


“Fly, Turkey”
By Geof Johnson

There’s a man named Farmer Brown,
He’s got the fattest turkey around.
He’s been feeding that turkey well,
To fatten him up for a Thanksgiving meal.
Mrs. Brown said, "Honey dear,
Let’s eat that big bird this year.
Go and fetch your brand new axe,
Take that turkey ‘round the back."

Fly turkey, fly real fast,
Today is going to be your last.
Flap your wings and get away,
Farmer’s going to eat you today.
Fly turkey, up in a tree,
Where the farmer cannot see.
Fly turkey, don’t make a sound,
Get away from Farmer Brown.

Mr. Brown said, "I’m with you,
I’d like to eat that turkey too."
Put his hat upon his head,
Walked out to the old tool shed.

Fly turkey, fly real fast,
Today is going to be your last.
Flap your wings and get away,
Farmer’s going to eat you today.
Fly turkey, up in a tree,
Where the farmer cannot see.
Fly turkey, don’t make a sound,
Get away from Farmer Brown.

Mr. Brown picked up his axe,
And gave a board a few good whacks.
Ground it sharp on the grinding stone,
Polished it until it shone.

Fly turkey, fly real fast,
Today is going to be your last.
Flap your wings and get away,
Farmer’s going to eat you today.
Fly turkey, up in a tree,
Where the farmer cannot see.
Fly turkey, don’t make a sound,
Get away from Farmer Brown.

Mr. Brown looked for the bird,
But not a gobble could be heard.
Where could that old turkey be?
He’s a’hidin’ in a tree!

Fly turkey, fly real fast,
Today is going to be your last.
Flap your wings and get away,
Farmer’s going to eat you today.
Fly turkey, up in a tree,
Where the farmer cannot see.
Fly turkey, don’t make a sound,
Get away from Farmer Brown.