We got back Friday night, went to Fresca for dinner, then watched the season finale of Sons of Anarchy. I know I've been pimping SOA like crazy, but seriously, it is so fucking awesome. I already miss it.
The flights back were fine, but I was stuck next to a Non-Communicator, like Super Hot Irish Girlfriend was on the flights out. You know this type? No matter what you say, nothing. No verbal response. So I go "Excuse me, could I get out?" and he looks at me and then gets up without saying a word. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be next to Mr. Talky for a whole flight, but just saying "Sure," or "No problem" is kind of basic human interaction, right?
On the flight there, SHIG was next to a total Southern prep type with a button-down shirt tucked into jeans, with loafers. And a Bible. Same deal. Not a word from him. Even worse, she's trying to get her tray table out of the armrest (we were in a exit row, which, for me, is vitally important to air travel, but more on that later) and Southern Prep is asleep, so she touches his arm to try and wake him and he moves his arm without a word and then rubs it like it burns or something. Seriously, what the fuck is up with people? She's Irish, not a demon.
So, Thanksgiving with the extended family. Per usual, the food was excellent, blah blah blah, and we opened the first bottle of wine around 12:30, so it was definitely fun. Oh, we have a gay in our family now. She was always in our family, I mean, but now she's a gay. This bit of info was imparted to me and my sister and SHIG in a hushed, I-have-some-very-serious-news kind of way, but our reaction was pretty much a collective shrug.
OK! Now it's officially Christmas season. The bad part of that is the shopping and crowds and Norelco electric razor ads and crass commercialism, but the good part is that it's now socially acceptable to drink almost every day and listen to "Fairytale of New York" as many times as you want without someone saying "Are you still listening to that? Christmas is over."