Thanksgiving in the Heartland

So I spent the Thanksgiving Holidays with my girlfriend Chelsey’s parents in Kearney, NE. The span of 4 days quickly became a blur, as the first evening dissolved into a drunken mess, starring her father and me. It included about 25 beers, 6 shots of Wild Turkey, and a pool table. Highlights included his drinking to “You winning a game of pool,” during our third round of shots, and my shooting back “What did I tell you about talking shit to me?” The musical accompaniment was supplied by AC/DC, Sammy Haggar, and Kid Rock. I got so drunk.

The next morning I was informed that I had passed the test of being able to hang in with Mr. Greg Erpelding. This came as a tremendous relief, as there was no way I was going to be able to suffer another audition. Mr. Erpelding, by the way was chipper as could be the next day, hopping out of bed at 8am, to start smoking the Thanksgiving Day turkey. Did I mention he also had 3 shots of Rum? The man is made of steel, leather, and turpentine. My hangover was colossal. I crawled through Thursday, while the rest of the family took pity on me.

The following days were anti-climatic compared to the night of debauchery. Chelsey and I met a ton of relatives and friends, and we made it to that Archway that Jack Nicholson goes to in “About Schmidt.” It was so lame, except that it had some of those weird video action/physical displays that are fast becoming my favorites in the newer museums. (Chicago has a nice one in their submarine section of the Museum of Science and Industry.)

Now I am sick of writing. I will end with two things taught me by Chelsey’s parents:

1) If you wrap up cookies with a piece of bread it keeps them moist.
2) A cool nickname for Old Milwaukee beer is “The Old Mill.”