Thanksgiving: A Brief Overview

Ten Things I Am Really Thankful For

1. my family
2. teachers
3. soldiers
4. my parent's jobs
5. my friends 
6. muffins
7. pants
8. my house
9. internet
10. chairs that spin

That was a legit list that I made in school yesterday.  Except I didn't put down "friends".  My friends brought that up after I had already written the final copy in marker and I told them that they are ranked so high that there isn't a spot prestigious enough on that list for them.  (I really just forgot about them.  I think they knew that.)  I forget what I put on the list instead of them though, so they'll have to do.

Me, Aunt Tina, my cousin Teighan who is rubbing a spitty car on his face, and that other kid.  (Look at how tall I look!  And I'm not even wearing shoes!)  This is about an hour after ingesting disgustingly large amounts of food, 80% of which was bread.  I swear, I ate half a loaf of scali.

 

I'm also grateful that I went to SYTYCD Live in Manchester a couple of weeks ago and met the top 6 and some of the All*Stars in person.  I never posted about it because the pictures were on Julia's camera, and I was too lazy to figure out how to get them on the computer.  This happened during the end of September, so you can see how technologically incompetent I really am.  I am super grateful that my mom went with me and was even willing to wait for an hour after the show ended in the back parking lot with me and my SYTYCD crazed dance friends for autographs from the contestants and stars.  I sat next to my friend Jess who is Robert's future wife.  Maybe Kent and I will get a house near theirs.  :-D  (Is "theirs" a word?  It looks weird.) When the screen was rolling up at the very beginning of the show, and you could see the dancers' feet marching, then their knees, then their hips, theirs stomachs... and I couldn't see after that because I was crying so violently.  I'm pretty sure it was shock from being in the presence of such amazing people, but it could've been Jess screaming for Robert that induced my never ending flow of tears.  I have a picture of it on the computer, but it's so horrifying that if I put it here, I would probably have to live in the middle of nowhere, maybe Nebraska, for the rest of my life living on grass and jar of applesauce.  Let's see if I can just describe it to you.

• The background- an abyss of dirty-looking dark brown.

• In the foreground- my face (taking up about half of the picture) in a disturbing shade of red, and my eyes so squinty they're slits, (yet slits that are big enough to be able to release tears from).  My mouth is huge, screaming incomprehensible screams.  

• Peaking out from around my  mungo head is quaint little Jess, who although is clearly in shock, doesn't look like she's about to spontaneously combust. 

The dances were amazing, and some of them that I had forgotten about were even better in person.  My favorite one, "My Chick Bad" was even more impressive in person, even though Twitch wasn't there, and his role was played by Dominic.  The best part was the end, when Sophie, Jess, Ashley, Zoey, me, and our various parents waited out back with the rest of the stalkerazzi and got our pictures taken with them!  Which brings me to the last thing I am extremely grateful for...

I am grateful that Kent Boyd touched my shoulder.  MY SHOULDER.  With the same hand that was on t.v.  And see that glimmer in my eye?  (Pretend you do.)  That's a tear.  Of unadulterated joy.  And bad lighting.  Not only did I push the others aside to get to be the one to stand next to Kent, I am also possibly the only girl in America to ask Kent to sign her shoe.  My friends were so embarassed to be with me.  I loved that.  (Sometimes I act embarassing in public just to humiliate my friends.  Let that be a lesson to you.)  So yeah, I was casually hanging out by the security gate, with  my foot up on the bar, peering around everyone, in severe pain because jeans aren't supposed to be stretched that way, but it was okay, because it was for Kent, and for the humiliation of my friends.  Sadly, he didn't even flinch when I asked him to sign my shoe.  But maybe he'll remember me.  So when I'm president of the U.S., he'll be all "Oh yeah, you're the girl from Manchester whose shoe I signed!"  And I'll be all "Yeah.....  I still have it in a glass case.  I hope you don't think that's creepy."  

No, it's not really in a glass case.  It's in my closet, pushed aside because the fabric part of my high tops was ripped from the rubber part after the last school dance.  You can see my sock when I wear those shoes now.  I'm getting new ones on Sunday!  Woot!  There's nothing better than the smell of new sneakers.  Except maybe Walmart.  

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sarah