Inviting 50 people to Thanksgiving Dinner. I was clearly sniffing glue.

I haven't posted in a while because I think I am suffering from some sort of PTSD relating to the past two weeks.

WARNING: I have reviewed this post and I am afraid it reads like an Eloise book on speed, but with less bandaids and no elevators. I'm Eloise - you be Nanny. And.........go!

Let's Recap:

On November 10th, I chaired an event for the team in a warehouse. Something on a scale we had never done before, and GOD HELP US we are going to do again as soon as possible because it was a total blast. In the days leading up to November 10th I was juggling logistics, writing press releases, giving phone-in interviews while driving to on-air interviews (don't worry, I used the speaker phone), lining up vendors, shaking down sponsors, renting portapotties at the last minute BECAUSE I FORGOT ABOUT POOPING, and spending some serious quality time in that super dirty, seriously awesome warehouse in the 36 hours surrounding the event. (I am still finding dirt in the craziest places).

I tried to make a to-do list to work off of, and to help me delegate, but that was ultimately an exercise in futility because so much stuff came up at the last minute. Like this sort of stuff:

I don't even know what they are up to, but it was hot and manly and happened at 9pm the night before the game and "blowtorch the floor" was not on my fucking to do list.

And speaking of last minute, got my hair did the morning of the event. When in doubt, I think we can all agree: Put a Bird on It.

And then the event happened and it was glorious:

I know you cannot tell from my one blurry cellphone photo, so head over here and check out the photos posted on our wall if you are interested. It was awesome. I still don't know how many people showed up. A lot.

While chaos was unfolding and birds were being applied to my head and people were blowtorching things, there was also a lot of personal (I know , I know I write about all sorts of personal things here, but this is not fun or funny to read about so we'll just skip that part m'kay?) shit going down that made me feel like I was possibly the world's worst human being or at the very least the worst event planner in the history of the world, and a terrible communicator to boot.
Yep, I felt like I was a terrible communicator. Me. The one who never stops talking.
It was a total mindfuck, let me tell you.

 By the 12th I was pretty worn out. Thank goodness that was a holiday. Except I got called in to work. So actually, not so much holiday. I took a nap. That was nice.

The 14th I left for Camp Mighty. That involved a red eye flight and a few cocktails and some tearful emo moments alone at the airport at night, listening to music in a massage chair and feeling really sorry for myself. Again, I can see the ridiculousness in hindsight: I was on my way to Camp Mighty in Palm fucking Springs waa waa boo hoo poor me I KNOW I GET IT I WAS IN A BAD PLACE OKAY?

So there I was, totally overtired and hyper-stimulated to begin with, and then I spent two days inhaling this huge sparkly burst of Camp Mighty energy and information. I was just totally on overload which is when I decided to skip the Tangtinis and just drink the Tang and take a Xanax. Straight up, chump.

I may have been able to rally if The Ace Palm Springs still had mashed potatoes and gravy - it's a travesty that they have no gravy on property, and mashed potatoes are a food group and I have yet to get to the bottom of this miscarriage of justice but suffice to say that HIPSTERS WILL HAVE THEIR GRAVY SO HELP ME GOD and I believe that in time, the cries of the masses will be heard. I am also starting a Facebook campaign and a board on Pinterest about this very sensitive subject so please stay tuned.

On Sunday the 18th I felt like death warmed over. This is what the desk next to my bed looked like:

The only thought I could get through my little brain was "help" And also "If I am the one driving back to LA, we will never make it."

And then our flight to Maui got cancelled. Did I mention I was a mess? So, yes, I was a mess.

Thank god Sarah and Amber were primed for road tripping. Dana and I cuddled in the backseat while I talked to the airline and Dana sent outraged tweets into the twittersphere about how hard I was taking it in the ass. You could totally feel the love.

They are so money.

We did eventually get home without having to sleep in the airport by the grace of Twitter and some epic social media-responsive customer service that totally blew my hair back.

And then it was Sunday night and I climbed into bed with my body clock all shot to hell and I prayed for morning. Because I had turkeys to defrost. 48 pounds of them. 

And let me tell you something. I was jetlagged, on emotional overload, and those fucking turkeys were frozen solid until Wednesday morning. I almost had a stroke I was so worked up about it. I ended up putting them in a bathtub full of cold water overnight. It was dreadful.

Are you still with me? Because WE HAVEN'T EVEN HAD THANKSGIVING YET.
(Do you need a break? I know, this is ridiculously long and I have tried - oh how I have tried - to edit this thing down but I cannot because this ALL JUST HAPPENED. But if you need a break, this is a good time to take one)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~intermission~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, now it was Thursday. Now it was Thanksgiving.

A little bit about Thanksgiving. It's my favorite day of the year. I love Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving food. I love the historical aspect of the holiday - maybe because some of my ancestors came over from England in 1600s, seasick as hell and praying for some clotted cream and a nice scone, and some of my ancestors were already here, probably not wearing pants, and none too pleased to have visitors. And then they had a big dinner, and got it on after dessert, and here I am. It explains a lot about me, doesn't it?

Okay, maybe I am taking some creative liberties with that historical footnote, but you know what I'm saying. Thanksgiving. The holiday of gravy. ARE YOU LISTENING ACE PALM SPRINGS?

Because I love Thanksgiving, and because I am manic, I invite a lot of people over for dinner. I invite everyone over for dinner. I invite people who live on other ISLANDS and in other COUNTRIES over for dinner. And they TOTALLY SHOW UP. It's pretty awesome.

directions

This is the brown food station. Turkey, gravy, stuffing, potatoes, squash.

There is a table for salad, and another table behind it for pie. 

We have a pie table.

Eating outside BECAUSE WE CAN

I know, Martha Stewart is looking at this right now and rolling her eyes but you know what? Who cares. Because IT'S THANKGIVING. Yes, it could have been prettier. Yes I could have had everything in matching dishes and taken professionally lit photos and YES my guests are sitting in plastic chairs that THANK GOD someone lent to me to seat all of these people I had invited to dinner.

I take no small amount of pride in knowing that no one ate their Thanksgiving dinner on a paper plate. I have finally purchased enough dishes to feed everyone with real plates and real forks. \

Knives are another story, but I have added it to my life list to buy sufficient knives for next year.

We had more than 40 people at dinner, but less than the 50 I was planning for, so I had a lot of leftovers which in my mind is actually a win. Plus, someone brought hunks of sweet potatoes wrapped in bacon.

WHO DOES THAT?  AWESOME PEOPLE, THAT'S WHO.

Our last guests toddled off after midnight, and then GOD HELP US ALL ME it was Black Friday. I refused to go Christmas shopping, but we had two important errands to run: I needed ink for my printer, and black pants for the Drag King show the next night.

Oh, didn't I mention that? Yes, see, after all of that, I still had some loose ends to wrap up. Like MCing an event and making a pair of tear away tuxedo pants.

It's hard to explain.

By Saturday morning I was a complete and total mess. The emotional upheaval was still going on, I had turned off my email and been awake since 2am crying. I spent the day in bed, because - and I know this is going to come as a complete and total shock to you but somewhere in the emotional wreckage, between the 4 airports, 2 events, 3 jobs and 45 house guests, I caught a cold. I had to rest my voice and conserve my energy. Which I promptly drained on Saturday night while my tuxedo pants were wrestled off me onstage while ZZ Top played "Legs". Like I said, really hard to explain.

And then Sunday I worked.

"Um, are you really going to work?" Sam was horrified. I was lying in bed with my eyes shut, clutching a fistful of tissues and gently swabbing my entire face, which appeared to be just.....leaking. From everywhere. 

"OF COURSE I AM GOING TO WORK."

And now here it is Monday. The last of our guests flew home today. Lucy stayed home with the tail end of a cold. I didn't take my sweatpants off until 2:30. Everything has settled down, I have caught my breath, and tomorrow I tackle my second draft of The Book and a stupid amount of laundry.

Because I have nothing else going on.