‘Twas the season indeed.
There was tinsel. Presents. The ability to listen to *NSYNC’s Christmas album—arguably their best and most amazing work, ever (I mean, who could forget JC’s “O Holy Night”? Lance’s super deep and perfect “YOU” when he sang “The only gift I wanted was you”? And the sexual undertones and overtones of “Under My Tree”? They weren’t just talking about conifers, am I right?)—without judgment.
There was also home.
And for people living in New York City, a.k.a. land of the people from elsewhere, home is a familiar, comforting, and ever-so-frustrating place.
Continue reading “The Conversations I Never Have”
Whenever Franco and I come home, people want to give us things.
A TV. A microwave. Something to make the food that will inevitably find its way to the microwave. Continue reading “2017”
Christmas came and went.
We ate deep-fried greasy everything and saw just how far we could sink into our respective couches. We stared or didn’t stare at the TV. At dinner we sat around the table fact-checking each other’s know-it-all claims about something or other, each refusing to give in because we were all equally right.
Then it happened. Continue reading “Pork Chops on Christmas”