Question: What happens when Queer Abby needs Queer Abby? Answer: The word implodes.

I should preface this week's Queer Abby by saying that I am in no way to give anyone life advice right now. I mean, I never am, which is why this feature exists in the first place and god bless Amy, but full disclosure: I am a hot ass mess right now.

AND SIDE NOTE: I'm listening to the radio and "Airplanes" by that "B.O.B." character all the kids love just came on and I want to set everything on fire re: these lyrics:

Yeah, somebody take me back to the days

Before this was a job, before I got paid

Before it ever mattered what I had in the bank

Yeah, back when I was tryin' to get a tip at Subway

There is nothing more fucking condescending in the entire world than a successful, wealthy person whining about the perils of having money. You miss those days, asshole? Welp, I've got an idea! You go to your room and slam your door, I'll plop down at the kitchen table frustrated and then on the count of three, we'll simultaneously think, "I WISH WE COULD JUST TRADE PLACES!" and Freaky Friday our way out of both of our problems. How does that sound? Ever been a blogger who just had her credit card declined by Pizza Boli's? OH, REALLY? I HAVE. You'll love it. It's so...honest.

It's like this mug we sold at work:

That's not funny. That's not funny at all. There is absolutely nothing funny or adorable about not being able to sustain your own livelihood by doing what you love. In fact, it's the most depressing think I can think of. And you know what the most absurd part is? That mug costs $13.99. $13.99! If you can afford to spend $13.99 on a novelty mug proclaiming yourself a "starving artist," you should automatically be ineligible to buy it. And then automatically be kicked in the crotch. Do you know what $13.99 can buy? A 12 pack of Ramen noodles, $5 on your SmartTrip and two Schlitz's at a bar plus tip. So basically whenever someone buys that mug, they're spending my entire budget for the week in one fell swoop on office irony. Must be nice.

I've decided that if my Freaky Friday plans with B.O.B. don't work out, I'm going to launch a line of jaunty mugs featuring depressing visual puns, sell them at quirky gift shops across this great nation and make a babillion dollars. So far I have:

Crack, cow!

D.A.R., fur!

and

Mello, Nomar!

BAHAHAHAHA! One day I'll be Pizza Boli rich. One day...

Dear Queer Abby (and Meg),

First of all, let me just say that I am a longtime fan of the blog - great work, keeps me smiling. This is the first time I've written in to Queer Abby even though I read it on the blog obsessively. (Ed. Note: Thanks, man!)

As so many do, let's start with the backstory. I have two very good friends, A (female) and B (male). B has been one of my nearest and dearest since the beginning of college (we now work together as teaching assistants for the same department) and although I only met A at the end of sophomore year, we hit it off really well and decided to room together the following year. I don't actually see any of them for a while because I studied abroad the fall of my junior year of college, but by the time we were all back on campus, many things had transpired: B finally broke up with his long-term girlfriend from high-school - his only real relationship, it had lasted for over 3 years, and although it was a tough breakup he was ready to gently ease himself back into the game - and A had also broken things off with a guy she had been hooking up with the previous term (also a mutual friend. Heyo, small liberal arts school!).

Based on the fact that A and B were both my friends, both good-looking folks, and both newly single and looking, I played a little matchmaker. Nothing too pushy, just suggesting that they go out and see what happened. And they did in fact get together - which is where the problems start. Due to what is in my opinion B not being used to a casual relationship, and A still dealing with commitment issues from the last guy and being dishonest about what she really wanted, things quickly started to sour. Basically, A secretly wanted a going-steady-50s-chivalry boyfriend but was willing to tell B anything he wanted to hear, and B wanted a very casual kind of relationship in order to ease out of his previous, extremely committed one. There were issues coming from both sides; B hooked up with some other girl without telling A, A essentially led B to believe she had been sexually assaulted by someone else in order to "get him back," etc., etc. As each of their friend through all of this, I was put in a very unfortunate situation which consisted of each one of them trying to get me to tell them stuff the other had said to me about them. Not into it.

But time went on; B started dating for real-real someone else, we went through summer and I came back for the start of my senior year hopeful that both would let bygones be bygones and move on with their lives. Unfortunately, not so for A. Even though she is currently in the beginnings of what could prove to be a very positive relationship with a new guy, she has completely convinced herself that B is evil incarnate and that she hates him so much she can't stand to live in the same building as him (which we all do - random housing lottery).

I currently live with A and three other girls in a quint-style room, which gives us each our own room as well as a shared common space. On move-in day, B and his new girlfriend completely unexpectedly showed up to say hi to me and see my new room, so I invited them in, led them straight to my room, closed the door, and we chatted for a few minutes before they left. A FLIPPED HER SHIT. She said to me "B is not allowed to be in this space" and proceeded to harangue him for all his various real and perceived wrongdoings, and went on about how she's never hated anyone more in her life and how much he hurt her, etc. I apologized, said I didn't know they were coming, and if it happened again I would ask B to hang out somewhere else. Fast forward to this evening, when B shows up so that he and I can grade homework together for our job. Realizing the issue, I tell him to be quiet and come straight to my room. Owing to Murphy's Law, he and A run into each other in our little hallway when she happens to come out of her room at that moment. He says an awkward "hey" to stony silence, we go into my room, close the door, and do our work. He leaves, an hour or so later.

I knock on A's door to apologize but to explain that we do work together, and he was in MY room, not hers or our shared space, but she's not having any of it. I try to reason with her, but she won't go beyond "I can't have him here" and "he can't come here" and other such ultimatums. She also constantly complains about running into him around campus, but let's be real our school is less than 2000 students, it's going to happen. Now I can maybe understand her still being uncomfortable - although to be honest, I'm rather sick of all this since after all several months have gone by since their little fiasco, and he harbors absolutely no ill will towards her and is upset that she hates him - but I don't think it is her place to dictate who I can or cannot be friends with or who I can or cannot bring into my room. However, she is still a good friend and I would like her to stay that way, but so is B, and especially since we are co-workers I'm pretty sure that contact will be unavoidable.

What to do?

-Caught in the Middle

Tell A to get bent.

Ok, maybe you shouldn’t say that exactly, but she’s definitely being self-centered and Crazy... While she’s justified in being uncomfortable with the situation, she has absolutely no right to tell you who to have in your room…or even the common areas for that matter (at most she should ASK). She’s the one with the problem here, so she needs to remove herself from the situation if it’s really that bad instead of expecting everyone else to cater to her Crazy. (Of course I would probably be a little more sympathetic to her situation if she hadn’t pulled the whole feigning-sexual-assault thing… )

That said, I understand you’re in a tricky position… I don’t think it was right for her to put you in this position (and I think she needs to hear that), but if you really want to preserve the friendship you should try compromising as best you can for the next month or two. I would suggest saying something along the lines of this:

“I get this is an uncomfortable situation for you, and I’m sorry for that, but you know B and I are still friends and coworkers. Out of respect for your feelings, I’ll try to keep the amount of time we hang out here to a minimum, but it’s still going to happen. If you’d like, I can let you know if/when he’s coming around so you can avoid him. And, if it’s an option, we’ll try to hang out with him in my room when you’re here, at least for the time being.

Ultimately though, I really hope you guys can eventually put the past behind you. I’m sorry things didn’t work out better between you two and I don’t expect you to ever be best friends, but my friendship with both of you is important to me and I don’t think it’s fair that I should feel like I have to choose sides. So, I trust that after some time passes this will get less awkward and uncomfortable for all of us.

That might not go over very well, but I honestly think it’s generous to even offer that much. I understand it’s her space too and, to some degree, I appreciate the way she feels…but unless B really was malicious and totally awful to her, you have every right to have your friend (from long before they ever started dating) around every once in a while. And, unfortunate as the situation is, it really does just sounds like a relationship gone wrong…as so many do. It’s almost always messy when that happens, but she has to let it go at some point and stop making this your problem.

Jesus fucking Christ. There's a guy in a rowboat going A miles and the current is going, you know, B miles, and how long does it take him to get to town? It's like, who cares? Who wants to go to town with a guy who drives a rowboat?

I defer to Amy on this one because after reading this question 15 times out loud, drawing accompanying pictures and plugging it all into my TI-83, I came up with "north of Poughkeepsie", which I don't think is the answer you were looking for. Sorry. Montgomery County Public Schools failed me, and now they've failed you too. JINX!

Dear Queer Abby,

Over the summer, one of my best friends started seeing this guy, Pat, who just moved to the city. They got really close, did everything together, we all hung out (he'd come to everything with her...) then she left to go back to med school in a different city but they stayed together. She begged me to stay in touch with him, invite him to stuff, etc b/c he doesn't know too many people here and must have told him the same thing b/c he'd always try to make plans. We hung out a few times and it was obviously completely platonic - we'd basically just talk about how awesome my friend/his gf is the whole time. He also gave me guy advice and kept mentioning how I need to meet his friend (who is really cute and "looking").

Last night, it was our mutual friend's birthday and Pat came. I totally hit it off with the hottest guy at the party (which never happens! It was so awesome!). We danced all night and kissed at the end! When we were all walking home, Pat pulls me aside and says "You know i really want the best for you. You totally deserve someone attractive and smart but....it's really hard watching you with someone else..." WTF. I played dumb and was like "ahh haha what?" and tried to get closer to the group and make it less awkward. He grabs me, repeats it and says how jealous he is and got all serious. I got really mad and asked "What about [my best friend/your gf]? What is wrong with you?". He didn't respond and I felt really uncomfortable so I just yelled "bye!" to our friends and grabbed a cab to get the hell out of there.

Anyway, now what do I do? My friend would be devastated if she found out he had feelings for other people and it would be especially weird if it were me b/c she was the one promoting us hanging out so much. I don't want to be the one who ruins it. Before this he seemed really great, has never done anything at all like that before and she was so happy. I feel so guilty and awful, and am still in shock he could do that. Should I tell my friend? Or write it off as nonsense said at 4 am that no one means or remembers...? I was pretty sober but maybe he wasn't? Please help!

Sincerely,

Wish I Could Erase The Last Five Minutes of Last Night

PS-He JUST texted me saying "hey, just wanted to drop you a line and say I hope you had fun last night! It was great going out with that crowd. I had a blast." Is he trying to go back to normal and get past his creepiness?? Or is that text itself creepy?

I think the text is definitely his way of trying to smooth things over. Still though, yuck. I think it’s awesome that you immediately called him out on it and made it clear that’s not okay. That’s exactly how you should have handled it in my opinion, and you shouldn’t feel guilty AT ALL.

It sounds like this guy is kind of skeezy, and I would generally say you should tell your friend (in the most gentle of ways). BUT if this really is aberrant behavior for him, he’s never come on to you (or anyone else) before, and he never does it again… well then I think it’s fair to hold off on saying anything until/unless you see other red flags indicating he’s being a douche bag to your friend. It’s possible he was just being a drunken idiot, and this was a one-time incident. That definitely doesn’t excuses the behavior at all, and it still definitely raises questions about how good he is for your friend, but people do make mistakes… And, moreover, if this guy makes her as happy as you say, and this kind of behavior is really out of character for him, then I kind of doubt she will end the relationship over this… it will just make things really weird between all parties involved.

Of course, if this is just the tip of the iceberg, then who cares if it gets weird—she needs to know. I’m just saying it may be worth giving it a little time to see whether or not that’s the case. So, for the time being, I’d say just keep your eyes peeled and keep making it perfectly clear that your interest in him is solely platonic… oh and definitely have some fun with the hot guy from the party.

Yeah, I agree with Amy; people do and say dumb shit when they're fucked up. We've all been there. And that text was totally his way of being like, "HEY-O, LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS. LET'S PRETEND THAT NEVER HAPPENED. LYLAS. BUT, LITERALLY. LOLZLOLZOLZOZLOL."

However, if he does it again, then you have a real problem on your hands. And in that case, here's what I would recommend you do:

Step 1: Go to an Internet cafe with your best friend and one circumstantial friend

Step 2: Type up an anonymous letter IN ALL CAPS telling your best friend that her boyfriend is a jerk off who's actively trying to cheat on her

Step 3: Print it out

Step 4: Leave it in her make up drawer next to her Paris Hilton Dreamcatcher clip-on hair extensions where you know she'll find it

Step 5: Play dumb when she asks you if you know who wrote it or if what it says is true

Step 6: Continue playing dumb when this interrogation period lasts for an uncomfortable amount of time. Your other best friend is going to pressure you to tell her the truth, but don't be give in. Really try to hold out for at least, oh, two or three episodes, I'd say?

Step 7: Finally, when you think things can't get any more tense, send your circumstantial friend to get your best friend to come outside so you can tell her the truth

Step 8: When she doesn't come out, go in and passive-aggressively ask her if she's too good to come out and talk to you

Step 9: When this conversation escalates quickly (and it will), bash her head into the wall, throw her to the ground and force-feed her a tuna sandwich, all while screaming derogatory names and a bunch of swears at her

Step 10: Prepare yourself mentally and physically for her to punch you across the face

Step 11: Collect your check from Viacom and start your own clothing line named after a bag of potting soil and VD

And remember—have fun with it!

[Note: the following question was emailed to us on September 9th. Deadspin answered it on September 14th. Which I was unaware of. So now we look like plagiarizing assholes. Soooo...shit.] Queer Abby,

My 60 year old father is marrying a the 30 year old Vegas showgirl whom he left my mother for, within the month. This woman is 3 years older than me. I hate this gold digging slut with every fiber of my being, and I want nothing more than to destroy her picture perfect wedding day, which is to take place at the $2 million dollar estate which she forced my father to purchase for her and her two illegitimate children. How can I ruin this affair without getting caught and/or found out? Some ideas I've thought of are: stink bombs, blowup dolls on the lawn, and lighting bags of my own shit on fire... Yes, that's how dedicated I am to this cause, I would shit into a paper bag. What is the most foolproof idea and the one that will leave a lasting impression on their union, which in my opinion won't last any longer than 30 days. Why couldn't he just buy a sports car instead of a home wrecking whore? Oh wait... he did that too.

PS: I'm not even invited to this wedding, and I found out about it via text message from another family member.

Sincerely,

Daughter of a broken home

Please don’t be an idiot. I understand this is a really tough time for you and your family, and I understand that you’re probably really upset with your dad for everything that’s happened, but trying to wreck this wedding is not going to make matters any better. I promise. You’re not going to like me for saying this, but the truth is your dad’s life and money is his to do with as he pleases. You have to let him do what makes him happy and/or make his own mistakes. And, by extension, you cannot dictate or deliver the consequences of his decisions.

I’m genuinely sorry he didn’t tell you about the wedding himself; I imagine that was really painful and I don’t want to minimize it—really that sucks. But, right or wrong, it’s an indication that he isn’t all too interested in hearing your thoughts on this, and you’re definitely NOT going to convince him your opinions on the subject are valid by pulling some juvenile bullshit in an effort to ruin the wedding. If you want him to respect what you have to say, you have to be mature about it…And I’m not exactly sure what the deal is between you two right now, but from here it sounds like you should be far more focused on your relationship with your dad, not his relationship with this new woman.

So, I really think the most effective approach (whether it seems this way right now or not) would just be to tell him how his actions have made you feel, as honestly as you possibly can. That doesn’t mean tell him how you much you hate the new woman or disapprove of his forthcoming marriage, etc. It means tell him how much it hurt your feelings that he didn’t tell you about the wedding, how witnessing the divorce has effected you, how bad you feel for your mother, or whatever you feel you need to address along those lines. Just remember, he’s not obligated to care about what you think he should do with his life but, as your father, he really should care about how you feel... And If I were you, I’d put it in a letter because the trick to this is going to be careful wording and working on your tone. The last thing you want is to come off angry and disapproving because he’ll dismiss that just like most parents do when their kids act like they know best…

I’m not saying this will stop the marriage though, DBH; nothing you can do will. But your poise will make more of a lasting impression on him, and he’ll be more likely to respect and consider your feeling in the future and remember that his decisions aren’t made in a vacuum.

I disagree with Amy wholeheartedly. If there's anything Hayley Mills, Lindsay Lohan and the Olsen Twins have taught us, it's that breaking up a wedding can be good, clean family fun. Here's what worked for them:

- Food fights

- Sloppy Joe's in general

- Kirsty Alley

- The sight of Kirsty Alley's middle-aged, nubile body exiting a lake

- Walking down the aisle at an obnoxiously slow pace

- Bees

- Camping trips gone awry

- Telling someone that if you repeatedly hit two sticks together, it will keep bears away

- You may or may not have to take a slap across the face. I'm just saying. But then again, you're already prepared to take a shit in a paper bag, so, you know, way to come with your game face on.

Also, if you don't have a CGI studio to duplicate yourself with or an anorexic twin sister, I would be more than happy to join you in these shenanigans. I have a lot of time and very little ethical integrity.

Got a question for Amy and Meg? That Meg might blatantly choose not answer because she's going through "A Time"? WHO DOESN'T? Email it to QueerAbby@2birds1blog.com!
today!

I could talk about my bitterness towards pogs for days...

I'm the last person to know about anything. If something is popular and cool, odds are I have absolutely no idea what it is. That's actually a pretty good litmus test of hipness. If I know about it; lame. If I've never heard of it; nice. My two primary examples of this are pogs and the Internet. Ironically, the McBlogger family thought the Internet was a passing fad and didn't invest in it until, oh, yesterday. I spent a large part of my High School career in the computer lab bonding with the foreign kids because none of us had the Internet at home. I also remember going to visit my sister at college and being like "WHAT?!? YOU HAVE THE INTERNET IN YOUR DORM ROOM?!? FEET AWAY FROM YOUR BED?!?! THE FUTURE IS NOW!!!1" Later that night when she went out to party, I opted to stay in her dorm room to surf the 'nets because I discovered that Ben & Jerry's had a website. Seriously. I was like, "Uh, you can keep your little party, thank you very much. Rumor has it Saturday Night Live has a website too! Clearly, I've got my work cut out for me."

I had a similar experience with pogs. I swear to all that is good and holy, I hopped on the pog train the day before they stopped being cool. Mere hours before their stagnation. Week after week I would sit on the sidelines at recess watching the cool kids play pogs, just wishing I had my own to bring to the table. Finally one day after school, my mom drove me to M.J. Designs on Georgia Avenue and I went fucking pog-crazy. There were these huge metal tubs filled to the brim with pogs and I dropped to my knees before them with tears in my eyes, plunged my arms in, lifted them out and let the pogs rain down upon me. This was the day that I was finally going to be cool. I ended up buying five cases in varying heights and neon colors, three slammers, an official pog playing board (to ensure extra popularity) and hundreds upon hundreds of pogs. At the time I was in a Saturday morning bowling league with Teresa and her little sister (yes that's true; no you can not have sex with me) so I got this special set of gilded bowling pogs that I was so incredibly proud of. The next day at recess, I rolled up to the pog circle all fat and cocky, threw down my brand new Stüssy brand slammer and was like "BAM! I'm your new Queen Bee bitches. Now someone go get me a Fruitopia!" Crickets. Absolutely nobody was impressed. They were like, "Sorry Meg, pogs are out. It's all about Airwalk sneakers now. Got a pair of Airwalks?" I looked down at my crisp, white Keds (which may or may not had been puff-painted with my name flanked by two paw prints) and hung my head in shame. Not only was I still not cool, I felt so incredibly guilty that my mom had just spent like 50 bucks on fucking pogs that would never even see the light of day. For months I would bring my pog gear to sleepovers all, "POGS?! POGS ANYONE?! HUH?? HUHHH?!?!" and my friends would be like, "Yyyyeahhhh.............no."

God. Fucking pogs.

Anyway, what I'm trying to get at here is this: have you guys heard about these new-fangled Tide to Go pens?!

That's my personal Tide to Go pen. No big deal.

They are like the absolute coolest things I have ever seen in my entire life. I always thought Shout Wipes and Tide to Go pens were unnecessary little expenditures that probably didn't work, but then I got one! I really wanted to wear the ivory-colored dress I wore last New Year's Eve to church/dinner this Christmas Eve, but it had a giant stain directly on the groin that I never bothered to take to the dry cleaners to get out. The stain wasn't from anything questionable—I was chugging a bottle of Cold Duck Andre (typical) and dribbled a mouthful onto my lap on New Year's. If you know anything about Andre (and if you would like to sit at my lunch table, you'd better) you know that Cold Duck is a deep, rich purple colored champagne and thus the stain was incredibly noticeable. Two hours before church, I ran to CVS and got a Tide go Go pen in a last-ditch effort to get the stain out. AND IT WORKED! This blows my fucking mind. The dress looks brand new. (Besides the fact that it still smells like broken dreams and New Year's vomit, but that's not the point.) I mean, it was a dark purple Andre stain that had been embedded in that dress for a year and in a matter of minutes it was gone! PFWOEIFJWOIEFJ! My world has been rocked.

So in conclusion:

Things I support: Pogs, Tide to Go pens, Cold Duck Andre, drinking straight from the bottle
Things I do not support: Puff-painting your sneakers, dry cleaning, New Year's Eve, the fickle of nature of school children and their fleeting fads, alliterations

Hey honkey! It's Drinking Game Friday!

Before we get to DGF, I want you to do the following:
1.) Pat yourself on the back for being so attractive. Feel that? That was from me to you.
2.) Click this website
3.) Scroll 3/4 of the way down to "Best Local Blog" under the "Home & Away" section
4.) Click "Other"
5.) Write in 2birds1blog
6.) Scroll to the bottom and click "Submit Your Vote"
7.) Tell a few friends to do the same
8.) Feel really good about the decision you just made

Now, if there's anything I learned from the Blogger's Choice Awards Shitstorm '09, it's that you won't vote for me unless I do something for you. Besides writing this blog. Every day. For free. Thereby compromising my job on many an occasion. (00O0o0O feel that baby?! That's just the burn of Jewish Guilt. Should clear up in about 2-3 weeks.) Unfortunately for both of us, I'm in the middle of a big 2b1b re-design and haven't gotten to new stickers yet, so I can't bribe you with those again. However, shoot me an email: meg@2birds1blog.com. Tell me what you want. We'll see what I can do. Or just vote because it takes five seconds and it's the nice thing to do. Kthnx.

NOW. Let's get racist and booze!

Anna reminded me in the comments section of Tuesday's post about what we lovingly refer to as "The Black Purse Debacle of 2004." BPD '04 is probably one of my all-time favorite incidents of accidental racism in the history of accidental racism. Ever. And (surprisingly,) it didn't involve me. It involved Anna, my sister and my sister's friend's boyfriend. Seeing how I was only a witness (and thank Christ I was,) I didn't think it was really my story to tell. However, it's just too good to keep to myself. IT'S JUST. TOO. DAMN. GOOD. So I hope Anna's OK with me sharing it here with you now. (Unfortunately I can't ask her because she's currently at cruising altitude en route to Miami. So fingers crossed.) Here we go:

Every year my sister and our friend Rachel throw a Kegs 'n Eggs party the day after Thanksgiving. It's a magical event full of delicious foods and day drinking, and it's pretty much all I live for. Being only 19 in 2004, an all-you-can-drink day event was particularly exciting to me and my friends and we rolled up ready to party.

What you need to know:
1.) My sister didn't really know Anna very well at this point. Although Anna and I went to high school together and she was best friends with literally all of my best friends, we were never that close. Shocking because now she's my lesbian lover, I know. Why weren't Anna and I friends in high school? Frankly, I was intimated by her. One day during Sophomore year, my biology lab partner, Bruce Tran, made a list of the 10 hottest girls in our school. I distinctly remember him being like, "OH MAN! That new girl Anna is so fucking hot. She's definitely in the Top 5!" So when Anna joined my group of friends a few years later, I was all, "OH GOD. It's Anna. Of BRUCE TRAN'S TOP 5 FAME!!!1 I'm scared so I'm not going to talk to her, ever!" I understand this is quite possibly the dumbest reason to not be friends with someone, but it happened. And I'm not proud. I lost a solid year of friendship with Anna and frankly Bruce Tran, I blame you and your list. My point is Anna and I only got close Freshman year of college and therefore Becca didn't know her as well as my other friends, who I had known since middle school.

2.) There were two other important people at the party that day: my sister's co-worker "June" and June's boyfriend, who we shall call "Andre," as they brought Verdi to the party, which was my first (but definitely not last) experience with malt champagne. There's really no delicate way to say this, but it's an important part of the story so I'm just going to go ahead and say it—June and Andre were ghetto. Lovely people! But ghetto as the day is long. They brought Verdi unironically. They stood out like sore thumbs in a sea of preppy white kids in Glover Park. During the course of their friendship, Becca never gave June a ride home due to honest-to-god safety concerns. Again, two of the nicest people you'll ever meet and I'm not judging. I'm just saying theyz was G-H-E-T-T-O. Moving on.

The party was fantastic. My friends and I ate and drank our little 19 year-old faces off. I liken our first experience drinking malt champagne to the first time a vampire drinks blood on True Blood. At first we were a bit skeptical and weirded out, but once that first drop of Verdi hit our lips—there was no stopping us. We were ripping the bottle away from each other's mouths and chugging like we had been wondering the Gobi desert. It was glorious.

As the party winded down, Anna and I stood in the doorway of Becca's bedroom talking, probably having a drunk heart-to-heart about Bruce Tran and the perils of high school while my sister helped her guests gather their coats and said her goodbyes. Suddenly Becca ran up to us and asked, "Has anyone seen a random black purse??" Just then, June's boyfriend Andre walked by. "Oh, THERE HE GOES!" Anna exclaimed, pointing directly at Andre.

Time stood still. My sister's mouth dropped, Andre kept walking and Anna, genuinely excited that she had helped my sister find the party's random black person, continued to point at Andre. Becca made a half-gasp/half-laugh noise and walked away stupefied. "WHAT?! What's wrong?!" a confused Anna asked me. Between gasps for air as I rolled around the floor hysterically laughing, I explained to Anna that my sister was looking for a random black purse, not a random black person.

Anna was mortified. 100% mortified. She was convinced for years that my sister hated her and thought she was racist. I can honestly say that Becca never hated Anna, but she miiiiiight have thought she was questionably racist a little bit, no matter how many times I tried to explain that Anna doesn't refer to all black people as "black purses."

And now every Thanksgiving when we're going around the table saying what we're thankful for, I thank God this mix-up happened. Because it has enriched my life in ways that you will never be able to understand.

Fin.

In keeping with this week's racially charged theme, I give you the Crash Drinking Game! (And no, not that Crash Drinking Game...)


Rules:
Drink When:
- Someone says a racial slur
- SOMEONE DOES IT! ("It" being sex)
- Sandra Bullock says something racist and it's shocking because she's Sandra Bullock
- Someone dies
- Someone gets finger banged
- St. Christopher is referenced
- A gun is drawn
- Ludacris rants about how it sucks to be black
- UTI. We've all been there. We feel for you old man.
- A grown man cries
- Ryan Phillipe. I said God damn.
- Graham's mysterious brother is referenced
- An Asian person struggles to properly pronounce their L's (THIS REALLY HAPPENS! I'M NOT JUST ASSUMING!)

As always, thank you so much for reading, preaching the 2b1b word, twittering, facebooking and writing us in here. We really, really appreciate it. Have a great weekend and we'll see you all back here bright and early Monday morning! Later!