5 things i'm thankful for

DON'T NOT CLICK ME!

I promise I'm fun and weird.

And I promise that the likelihood that you heard any of these around your Thanksgiving table is, like, not 100. I don't know you, though. I don't know your people. You might have heard all of these. If so, sorry. It'll be quick.

It's Thanksgiving night and here are 5 quick things that I'm thankful for:

this isn't one of the five

it's just an opener

but seriously

anyone else sit in the orthodontist's chair

perusing the color choices for new rubber bands

and one of the factors you weighed was

"will this rubber band color make everyone at school love me"

but one of the factors you weighed was NOT

"will this color make me look like i have fungus on my teeth"

"green.

yeah.

definitely green."

#nailedit

poor kid

thank you

sweet baby north west

that shit is over

1. I'm thankful that when it comes to wacky family members I have a solid starting lineup.

We've got the grandma with schizo-effective disorder, the uncle who confessed to murder, the grandpa we've never met because he's a monster, and the 5-year-old who is grateful for nothing, and by that he means that he is grateful for nothingness, as in, he is grateful for the absence of presence.

Oh, and we've got a Canadian.

I feel like, yeah, we've got a chance at the championship this year.

2. I'm thankful that I only have ONE "I pooped my pants a little in public as an adult" story, and I feel like that number is way below-average.

3. I'm thankful that when I was in college, my a cappella group hosted an all-male a cappella group from somewhere in Connecticut or some shit. No, this isn't the story of how I got pregnant in college. I WISH.

They were clean-cut, razor-sharp, and damn but those boys could snap their fingers in unison. You know how sexy it is when a man in a blazer can snap on the beat while sing-chanting "doo-n-do-doooo."

I was 19 when I sat in the auditorium and listened to the pitch pipe hum softly in the silence before the next song. Not to toot my own horn, but I for sure knew like seriously every song that an a cappella group would sing - classic doo-wop? KNEW IT. Piano bar classics like Billy Joel and Elton John? KNEW IT. Top 40 pop hits circa 2005? KNEW IT COLD.

So when they began to sing and I did not know the song, I stopped listening as a fellow a cappella enthusiast, and began to listen as a member of a crowd.

I'd definitely never heard this song before. I wasn't really sure what it was about - something about drums in the night? And... an old man?

But when they hit the chorus, I stopped caring about anything but the music.

Gonna take a lot to drag me away from you

There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do

HOLY BALLS THIS SONG WAS AWESOME. It was one of those perfect musical phrases where the music and the lyrics held each other up and ignited a deep desire in my teenage girl heart:

They are singing this to me. Or maybe, someday, they could be. Maybe someone could love me with such ferocity that we could not be dragged apart by a hundred men.

Or MORE! They said more! So like, a hundred and seven, hundred and eleven guys? No sweat!

Dang. I feel things.

The guys were feelin it. You could tell they loved singing this song. They were moved. I was moved. All the girls and at least half the boys in the audience were practically holding their breath and trying to figure out reasons to introduce themselves after the show that weren't, "That one song made me need to smell your neck."

(This is the version by Straight No Chaser)

(Seriously, listen to this and pretend you're a 19-year-old girl

whose first love was a guy in high school who could sing.)

And that's the first time I ever heard Africa, by Toto.

Gotta say, that song was always meant to be sung by an all-male a cappella group from Connecticut or some shit, to a hundred kids in an auditorium who all feel as if they could be singing to them.

And I am #blessed. Because to me, it is.

4. I'm thankful that my boobs and my feet are both about the same size.

And by that I don't mean that my boob is the same size as my foot. Although honestly, they might be. Like, if my boob had bones and bunions, who knows.

I mean my boobs are both roughly the same size, and my feet are both roughly the same size. I'm just grateful for that. One less thing to deal with at Nordstrom.

5. Oh shit!

I actually have TWO "I pooped my pants a little in public as an adult" stories. I totally forgot about that time at Nordstrom.

Whatever, you know what, that's still below average. Or at least not above average.