Thanksgiving, Bacon, and Meat Dresses

Ah, Thanksgiving. What should be the one day of the year where EVERYONE is a Detroit Lions fan, we can all eat as much as we want to, and putting bacon on, well, everything seems like a very good idea. Anyone who says Thanksgiving is all about the turkey is an idiot. Thanksgiving should be all about the bacon. BACON BACON BACON. I just posted a picture of Kevin Bacon appearing in Hollow Man just to prove to everyone that no matter how much you may hate Bacon [sorry, Sue], you still love bacon.

Good God, I'm good.

Seeing as that I am not going home (that's Michigan, by the way) for Thanksgiving and haven't except for the year my grandad was sick when I flew first class and enjoyed a complimentary beer, I have very much depended on the kindness of friends for their hospitality and cooking... Except for the one year where Langford and I ate pizza, drank beer, and then realized that the heat in my house was out. You guys should hear me say the last part of that last sentence with a wicked Michigan accent.

I was going to rundown a list of things that I'm thankful for. Or, happy thoughts. Things that would make Peter Pan fly. Here is where I wanted to insert a picture of all those kids from

Hook holding up signs that read things like "Candy" and "Birfday" but the internet is being difficult with me this morning and finding that image is exhausting and I just don't want to look any longer. Instead you get the fat kid with the sword (the character's name was Thud, by the way) and there's not a snowball's chance in hell that Pan would have made him leader of the Lost Boys. Where's he gonna lead 'em? To Old Country Buffet? Actually, that sounds pretty good.

Which leads me to my next point. Because when I think about adventures, Thanksgiving, garish outfits, dudes wearing wigs, and really bad singing, I think of only one thing: Lady Gaga. And wouldn't you know it, she happens to have her own Thanksgiving TV special this week. Yeah, 'cause that's what I want to watch on Thanksgiving. Some chick in a meat dress. Well, maybe if it were made out of bacon. Then we'd have something.

On a much more serious note, I hope you guys are all thankful for everything you've got. You get to read my blog which means you can read, you probably own a computer, and you have access to the internet. You're probably sitting in your home or at work (which means that, unlike me, you have a job); both of which mean that you have a place to live and the means to afford a place to live. Maybe you're at a coffeehouse which means you've got enough expendable income and time to go to a coffeehouse. You're probably doing something that you're good at or at least would like to be good at and so you may be following your dream or your passion or your whatever motivational word inspires you. Also, you're probably starting to think about getting gifts for friends and family and all of the shopping that you may do Friday. Unless of course you work at Target and in that case, your Black Friday workday starts at 9pm on Thursday night. You're probably getting into the holiday spirit and you may have already put your Christmas tree up. And even though there are plenty of things that suck in life aside from Lady Gaga's Thanksgiving special and the fact that Nickelback is playing the Lions' halftime show (unless a miracle happens, you're still better off than Kevin Bacon was in Hollow Man.

An Open Letter to the TSA

Dear TSA,

The thing about airports is that you're not really sure what city (and sometimes country) you're in. It gets confusing enough when you fly from Europe and land in New York at the same time that you left. Or when you fly from New Zealand and land 8 hours before you left (but still don't have enough time to go to In N Out Burger). What's even more confusing is that sometimes you you can be in the airport in Dublin, Ireland, but technically be on US soil. That one really messed with my head.

I've got to hand it to you. FINALLY, someone has taken some of the best parts of Las Vegas and put them in 68 airports across the United States

. No, I don't mean the slot machines. No, I don't mean Cirque de Soleil which is the only circus that I think I would like because there are no horses and the chances of a clown falling and getting injured are pretty high. And if you know anything about me, you know that I'm afraid of both horses and clowns. Ha! I can't believe I just wrote that... "If you know anything about me." You're probably spying on me reading my old blog entries right now. No, my dear TSA, you've essentially made public groping legal all throughout the airports in the US. Truly, way to use your hands to get a job well done.

[See what I did there?]

Don't worry. I'm not flying anywhere this week. I mean, I do pull down delivery boy man money and all but flying up to Michigan to see my sister or down to Florida to see my parents for Thanksgiving would cost me about $450 and that's just not the kind of coin I'm willing to drop... Especially considering that I just spent $272 for my flight up to Michigan for Christmas. That being said, no 'security agent' is going to get into a stink over me this week. And, yes, I use the ' marks properly. If it came down to brass tacks, and this is purely hypothetical, there's no way a 38 year old 240 lb woman wearing polyester pants, or a 61 year old man with a clip on tie is going to be able to run me down. I'm no Adonis but I'm in pretty good mediocre shape.

Bearing in mind the fact that I am not Adonis and the fact that they probably don't teach Greek mythology at DeVry Technical Security Groping school, let me just tell you that Adonis was the man. Go look him up. That being said because I'm not him, it's been a while since I've had a good grope.

What? This is my letter to you. I love you guys.

So here we are at a paradox. As you probably know from my wonderful blog entries, I am really for individual freedoms and personal responsibility... but being that my blog is named "Looking for Like", I'm also looking for some woman to fall hopelessly in love with my writing and then want to ravage me and my somewhat flabby physique. You, TSA, have put me in a very confusing place. The part of me that wants to defend my civil liberties hates you but the part of me (*wink) that wants some woman to look at me oh so lustfully doesn't. Well played, Big Brother. Well played.

As the saying goes, all is a game and honestly until just now I didn't know what side of the fence I was on. It's Team Civil Liberty for me! However, since you guys seem to get your jollies on sliding your hands up and down some hobbit's dude's legs I think I've got the perfect solution. Wait! Two perfect solutions!

Number one: The Dirk Diggler. Did you see the end of Boogie Nights? You didn't? Okay... Stop what you're doing right now and go watch it.

Done? Okay. Good. I'll put on a big ol' prostetehcincicncichj7299mdic [sp?], you'll feel good about yourself, I'll feel good about myself, and your body image scanners will feel good about themselves. Everyone wins.

Number two: The This is Spinal Tap moment. You know when Harry Shearer's character is

going through the security line and... well...

Take your pick, TSA, it's up to you. I'm basically throwing myself at you.

Now, alot of you TSAers might be reading this and thinking, "Who's this smart ass?" Hell, since I've made this an open letter and am posting it on my blog, most people who read this are probably thinking the same thing. That is a totally founded statement. I am a smart ass. I can deal with that. Most everyone seems to love this impish little scamp. Now that that's established and agreed upon, the next thing that you're probably thinking is "I bet he's just really uncomfortable with is body" this is what I look like in a bikini:

If that doesn't get your heart racing, I don't know what will.

So, TSA, I will see you at Christmas-time. I look forward to meeting you about half as much as you look forward to feeling me up. Until then, you'll just have to look at that picture up thurr and imagine.

Sincerely,

Stephen P Bohn

I am thankful I am not a turkey

Ahh... Thanksgiving week. A week where not much gets done in a human resources setting... and I don't mean just mine. There are a few reasons why this happens. First of all, anyone who travels does so on Wednesday. This clears out offices by late Tuesday afternoon because everyone who is traveling has to go home and pack and pick up their snot-nosed anklebiters from school so that they can get them ready for the two hour flight to Salt Lake City where Granmy and Papaw can shower them with gifts, food, stuffing and everyone there will where uncomfortable wool sweaters and fuckallI'msickoftalkingaboutschoolAuntJanice! If you guys wanna see someone in the holiday spirit, look no further.

Anyway, back to my point... At that point is nothing, much like the point of working this week. There is none. At all. To give you an example of how little work gets done in a human resources department during the week of Thanksgiving, a two hour long breakfast has been scheduled tomorrow morning for our department. If that doesn't scream, "MODEL OF EFFICIENCY!" then I don't know what does. Apparently, that's how you scream on the internet. You type in all caps. Either that, or you're an engineer. Today has been predicatbly slow. I've answered two phone calls and responded to three emails. While, those three email responses have been important. Otherwise, how would the rest of the department know that I have volunteered to bring fruit tomorrow morning for the breakfast we will be having? I could walk around to each of their desks and tell them, I suppose. I'd get some exercise, look social, chat about my beloved 2-8 Detroit Lions (who will probably be starting Daunte "Rolling Thunder" Culpepper on Thursday in what is almost sure to be a total embarrasment on national television... You know... The reg.

But I'm not paid to walk around. I'm an employee relations professional and not an athlete. The Good Lord blessed me with these long dancer's legs but the coordination of a drunken 3 year-old. He giveth and He taketh away...

So I'm finding ways to fill up my day because some days that's all you can do at work. One of these ways is, of course, spending time on Facebook. 99% of the people that work here get this an access denied message but I am a surprisingly good computer... uhh... guy and have figured out how to get around this. As I was using the most popular social networking site until something else comes along in the world, I saw this ad on the ol' FB:

It got me to thinking... "What am I thankful for?" So here it goes...

*First of all, I am thankful that I can end sentences with prepositions from time to time and not too many people are going to care that much. As an addendum to that, I am also thankful that this is not 1889 and no school marm is going to rap my wrists (or whatever it is they used to do) for ending my sentences with a preposition.

*Secondly, I am thankful that I am not getting on a plane and flying anhwyere this week. I always get stuck sandwiched between the dude that smells like a ham caserole and a nine year old who has the sniffles.

*Thirdly, I am thankful that I am not a turkey. For obvious reasons.

*Fourthly, I am thankful that when I come to work on Thursday [Yes, folks, the Employee Resource Center is open from 9am to 3pm on Thanksgiving!] I will be able to bring my MacBook in with me and watch Futurama.

In all seriousness, I am really just thankful that I have managed to mostly survive this year. I am thankful that I get to work. I am thankful that Patrick and Amanda are kind enough to have me come over on Thursday afternoon to hang out, eat food, and probably drink enough beer where if I wanted to crash on their couch I could. I'm thankful that I still love living in Nashville even if finding love with a hipster chick probably isn't on my plate anytime soon. I'm thankful for a good bottle of bourbon and a better bottle of scotch. I'm thankful for running. I'm thankful for far too little far too often. But, despite my misgivings about things, I am really thankful to be alive... Hipster chicks and all.