I have a habit of accidentally mixing two words into one.  My brain doesn’t intercept and say “Hey, dipshit, that’s two words.  Separate those fuckers” before it’s too late and out of my mouth.

That happened the other night when I was yapping at E.  My brain thought “obscene” and “insane” at the same time, so from my mouth came “obsane”.  This time, I’m rolling with it because, honestly, that’s a really cool word and I am hereby making it an official word.  It’s my blog.  I can do that.

It’s after midnight, my Thanksgiving baking is done, the house is quiet except for last year’s TCU/Baylor game that Landon left on the television for me, and I’m drinking a White Russian.

I’m drinking a White Russian because when I sent E into the liquor store last weekend, I told him to get Kahlua when I meant Bailey’s Irish Cream.  I’m nothing if not maddeningly stubborn thrifty so it’s been my mission this week to have a White Russian every single damned night in order to finish this shit off.  Success is imminent.

Some friends of mine have been posting daily status updates on Facebook listing all the things they’re grateful for.  I don’t do that kind of thing.  Just don’t.  It doesn’t mean I’m not thankful.  I am.  I’m thankful for a lot of things but some of them just aren’t really printable.  Or should ever, ever be mentioned in decent company.  But since I don’t really keep very decent company, I’ll list here the things I can’t on Facebook.

Shit I’m thankful for, IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

• E.  E likes to say I’m the ride and he’s just holding on.  But I know it’s completely his choice to remain on this ride called Steph and I’m obsanely thankful he does.
• Landon.  Landon presents his challenges but everyone who meets him loves him, including and especially us.  I wouldn’t trade him for a 5 star football recruit son and if you know anything about me, that says a lot.
• Gracie.  Where do I start?  I could write volumes about why she’s the greatest girl in this whole world.  She was a miracle from her 2 month premature birth and she continues to be a miracle today, two days from her 14th birthday.
• The rest of my family.  Yes, even you, you bastard.  You’re still not getting Harry & David’s baklava for Christmas this year, though.
• My friends.  Mostly the ones who actually fucking read my blog.  Especially the ones who share my blog instead of that shitty click bait you usually share with everyone five times a day that always starts with “Get a tissue.”  Fuck you.  I hate to cry, go out of my way to avoid it,  and I’d like to kick you in the balls for posting that fuckery.  But I digress in typical, passive aggressive Steph style.
• Football.  Roll Damn Tide!
• Football friends who respect my football rules and can engage in sane, rational football talk without devolving to “Bama sucks just because and also, my wife’s great, great uncle went to State U so it runs in our family.”  Mother fucker, the only thing that runs in your family is the innate ability to think wearing pajama pants to Walmart is a totally okay thing to do and the belief that taking your cousin to that fancy, authentic Italian restaurant Olive Garden is romantic.    To end this rant on a positive note, I’ve only had to de-friend one douche bag this year and he wasn’t family.  SO FAR.  But the Iron Bowl is this weekend and we’re not even into the Final Four yet.
• Fall brews.
• Fireball, which I only drink in the privacy of my own home now and under the supervision of E, for reasons we will not discuss here.
• Jack Daniels Honey.
• Really big brown sacks they have to use at the liquor store when I restock.
• My makeup.  I’m a Sephora VIB Rouge member.  Don’t google that.  You don’t want to know.
• My dog, Allie.  Yes, she’s named after Alabama football.  My friend Tonya came to see Marilyn Manson with me this past spring.  The first thing she said when she entered my house and saw Allie was, “The last thing I would’ve guessed about you is that you have a dog.”  E was watching me and Allie cuddle the other day and he said, “Why does she love you so much?”  I don’t have an answer for all that but apparently, dogs CANNOT sense evil.  What the hell?  I’m an incredibly loving, giving – never mind, fuck it.  I pretty much only like my own kids and am extremely suspicious of others until they prove they aren’t complete little assholes to me and I’m the same way with dogs.  But once you’re in, you’re in.
• My small cozy little house that feels like a treehouse to me because it sits down a hill so seems kind of high when you’re in it.  You know what I mean?  Never mind.  I recently shared this with E and the kids and I was immediately snickered at and made to feel like a fool.  It’s my Thankful List.  It’s a fucking treehouse.
• Texas.  I miss it.
• Pecan pie.  I’ve recently tried just about every pecan pie in a 20 mile radius.  Sam’s is the best.  Don’t argue with me.
• Vibrators.  Like I’d leave those off the list.
• Dildos.
• Water proof –  never mind.  Let’s just say anything you can find in a store you enter with the fear that the local Southern Baptist church will photograph your license plate outside this fine, upstanding business and send it to your wife.  This actually happened at the sex shop in my neighborhood in Texas.  I was enraged because what the hell?  Who the hell do you think sent E to the damned sex shop?  Deacon’s wives have kinks too, you sexually repressed (and privately jealous) fucks.  This is one of the reasons I don’t go to church anymore.  But I digress yet again.
• This blog.  I know I don’t write very often but I feel very good when I do.  I especially feel really good when my friends COMMENT ON MY SHIT.
• Music.  Music is my biggest addiction.  Besides alcohol.  And sex.  And pecan pie.  Hell, is there a way we can just combine all those into one big addiction?  I resolve here and now to not enter the New Year without doing all of these simultaneously.  And reporting back to you good people.  Not while doing it.  I’ll report back after the fact.  Hold me to it.

Baylor is just about to suddenly and mercilessly kick TCU in their collective taint(s) (remember, this is last year’s game so I know how this shit ends) and also, the double White Russian has kicked in.  I’m sure there are things I’m leaving out here on my Thankful List but that’ll do for now.

I’ve been sitting on this meme all year, y’all.  Here you go:

I hope your holiday baking is done.  I wish you and your family a very Happy Thanksgiving.  I hope there are many, many things on your Thankful List and I hope I’m one of them.

If you’d like to read last year’s Thanksgiving post, click here, awesome reader.