I just spent the week in Texas with my friend Shauna.

I met Shauna a few years ago in New York City. We were sitting in a hotel room with a bunch of friends, and she was holding Gigi, who was just a baby at the time, when I looked over to find her dripping grease into her mouth from a folded up slice of Johns’ pizza. I knew then, we’d be best friends for life.

Unlike my last trip to Fort Worth, I flew in solo for a girl’s week, which I was nervous about, except that I had a super smooth flight there (and back), so now I’m traveling with a huge chip on my shoulder all, fucking bring it, gravity. What you got? I float mother fucker.

Which probably means my flight to New York in two weeks will be like the movie Snakes on a Plane and I’ll be drugged up like Kristen Wiig on Bridesmaids.

 Shauna and I had the house to ourselves, and we had a work week planned of heavy writing and occasional dips out for food. That lasted exactly four seconds when we realized that we had the house to ourselves and spent the entire week eating our faces off and watching movies in her bed and drinking. In fact, it was our first night sprawled out across her bed that changed the tone of the whole trip.

Hey B, wanna go grab some McDonald’s fast before the next movie?

Absolutely.

Ok, what do you want?

Duh, Nuggets?

Nuggets, gross, why?

Um, because I’m a girl?

Have you never had a Big Mac before?

No, Big Macs are boy food.

And there we have it. A glimpse of my sordid childhood, where I grew up in a household of gender based foods. Long before McDonald’s featured toys for boys and toys for girls, my mother was reinforcing stereotypes by making me eat chicken nuggets, while offering my brother the more masculine cheeseburger, which honestly makes sense because those cheeseburgers probably had testicle parts in them, and the chicken product was most likely riddled with estrogen. Maybe this is why I got my period at age 8? That’s the worst Happy Meal toy ever, McDonald’s.

I ate that Big Mac the way I imagine captive animals feel when they get released in the wild. It was fantastic, the sauce unidentifiable, and extra piece of bread was just frivolous enough to set me off on a week of firsts. I mean, what else has Ohio been hiding from me? Have we cured AIDS and I have no idea? Am I actually on the Truman Show right now?

Fort Worth became my bucket list.

I watched movies I’d never seen before.

The Change Up: Ok, this movie is now in the top 5 funniest movies I had ever seen. I had to change my panties two times, and finally watched the rest of it sitting on a puppy training pad.
Horrible Bosses: Also super funny, plus my clitoris appreciated the second dose of Jason Bateman.
21 Jump Street: This ended up being way funnier than expected, but… I’m sorry….skinny Jonah Hill weirds me out. It’s like when I see emaciated Drew Carey. I feel uncomfortable then google where they bought their tapeworms from.
The Sitter: Ok yes, chubby Jonah Hill. This is what I know.

I ate food I hadn’t eaten before.

Big Macs: How are we not airlifting these to Darfur? They’d definitely keep, have tons of calories, and nobody would ever poop again.
Chicken Fried Steak: Ok this is apparently a southern delicacy, and Shauna and our friend Greis were personally offended I had not only not eaten this before, but also mimed the international symbol for vomit every time they talked about it. It’s either chicken or it’s steak, Texas. You can’t have it both ways. OR CAN YOU. The took me to Louise’s and ordered me Chicken Fried Steak and Fries with Gravy. The first bite felt wrong, then I blacked out and came to licking the plate and humming Air Supply.
Bloody Mary: I’ve actually never had a Bloody Mary before, and I think it’s because the concept of drinking tomatoes for fun makes me uneasy. But, Shauna forced my hand again, and it was like drinking steak sauce with a giant phallic piece of celery in it. I’m now a fan.
IHOP: Yes okay, so we have IHOPs up north, I have just never been in one because I assumed it was full of hobos and drunk college kids, and I can’t enjoy my pancakes and listen to twenty years olds misinterpret the entire plot of Donny Darko. But, I gotta give you props IHOP, red velvet pancakes with frosting butter? Where were you after every joint I smoked in high school?

On top of all that, I got to spend an evening bowling at Lucky Strike with all my Texas girlfriends, which just makes leaving that much harder.

Thankfully, I’ll be back, as I still have so much to do: Lasso a cow.  Buy a ten gallon hat. Eat at Whataburger. See an armadillo. Perform my Rick Perry rap at Open Mic night. Try sweet tea. Deliver a baby in an elevator (Honestly, I could do this anywhere, I’d just prefer it to be in Texas because the accents are adorable).

 

 

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