Faking It

This time two years ago, I was sweaty and gross, covered in turkey, shell-shocked at what I had just done. (How's that for a hook?) Thanksgiving is the day that, to me, kicks off the general holiday season. True, I get in the mood well before the actual day. Midnight October 31, the Halloween decorations come down and the Thanksgiving/Christmas decorations go up. The Christmas music plays and it starts to smell like cookies everywhere. I don't eat turkey on Thanksgiving (or any other day...) but two years ago, I helped a friend of mine cook turkeys for a Thanksgiving dinner for some kids who were probably not going to have a traditional meal at home at a center she volunteered at. She needed me to go to her house that day and babysit two turkeys. I had to check their internal temperatures, inject them every few hours to keep them moist, and she would be home in the afternoon to carve them up.  First problem with this plan... I had never cooked a turkey before

I've been watching a lot of movies lately and I came across "8mm," this movie from 1999 about a lady who discovers a snuff film among her dead husbands possessions and hires a PI (Nicolas Cage) to try to find the girl to make sure it wasn't real. I freaking loved it. It reminded me of "Seven" and while I know this opinion won't be popular when have I ever really cared about that right? Confession: I like Nicolas Cage. He's one of the best actors we have. And one of the worst. Often, at the same time, which is really impressive if you think about it. He's a hyperactive one-man train wreck a million times more interesting than Tom Cruise. Aliens would totally kidnap him first, let's be real. And I like his movies. And I don't have to defend it, and thank goodness because really, there isn't a reason. I don't find him especially good looking, sometimes he whispers when it's not necessary, but I like him. Because only a gypsy

Above all else, remember: It worked for Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. Confession: I don't know how to meet people. Where do you find people your own age to meet and interact with? Through your friends, at a bar, pursuing your passions or hobbies? I guess but I have no idea. My friends are split into two groups: marrieds with or planning-to-very-soon-have children and 22-year-old gay boys. I love them all equally as they both provide me with lots of things I need like love and support, encouragement, advice, fashion tips, continual confirmation that while I love children I never want children, glitter, baked goods, and people to impress with my wit and candor. What I don't get are single boys my own age. There. I said it. It is really difficult for me to admit that's something I want. Every person I've told has said the same thing, "it's human nature, that's not weird or bad." But I don't like the idea of me needing another person for anythi