Kit:

Hey, once back in the day I was watching Felicity for some reason, you know the show with the curly hair girl, well, for some reason it was on the television, perhaps that reason was boredom or exasperation or a desire to diddle with myself and thus fulfill my curly-hair-Felicty-girl fetish, the reason is not important, the reason is trifling, I know you're wondering about it but you should let it go because we're here to focus on something else.

What we're here to focus on is the content of that show, never you mind how that content got inserted into my head (aliens, another possiblity, aliens have given this memory to me, this out-of-character memory that threatens many preconcieved notions you have about me). In this particular episode by felicitous circumstances the vast majority of the cast of Felicity did not return home for this particular Thanksgiving, although they all planned to, because for some reason writers of television shows believe it to be more believable that people are planning on going home but are all mysteriously prevented by outside forces (aliens?) than just deciding to fuck around in the dorms and have a greatbig thanksgiving dormturkey.

So now as Thanksgiving approaches, I wonder about your whiskey and bean situation, and wonder if you will have a miraculous Thanksgiving where all the characters of your show tell their families to fuck off because I've got a new wonderful New York dormfamily and that your dad who desperately wanted you to go to Stanford is probably hitting his wife right now. I just made that last part up.

Are you content, living in your place in Queens? I wonder if you miss things like going outside and pants. Or grass and trees that don't look like three-week-old roses. Or crazy wacky prostate-free dads plotting to remove your bad influence from your terribly undersexed cripple-friend. But I guess you've made your bed and you've got five years to lie in it and perhaps emerge with a doctorate and a teaching job somewhere and perhaps a predeliction for whiskeybean juleps.

I am unsure if I am content. I miss things like passing out papers in the diag, going to house parties without feeling 75, and entire days off of class. I don't miss some things, but as I paraphrase and alter Matt Damon saying Doyle Brunson saying something: few people remember big newthingstheylikealot they have won, but everyone can detail the outstanding tough thingstheymisswhenlifecircumstanceschange of their career.

-Brian

Kit:

Wonderful news. As I was enjoying some Italian Meatloaf (hur hur hur) at the Old Macaroni Grill with my father and uncle and assorted hangers on (relative variety) it was brought to my attention that my brother has, in a fit of utter madness, gotten his tongue pierced. I wrote a poem about my reaction:

Oh happy day!
Oh Ha-roo ha-ray,
It is a happy day!

Apparently my Aunt ran into my brother in Evanston as they were about to take in the Northwestern-Michigan game and noticed it then. Word then spread to the father side of the family, also known as the "laid back" side.

The other side is not so placid about such matters. My hair has been chopped back into a rakishly handsome style since you last saw me, but it still remains a bit floppy and long--I've decided I like it this way. You probably think this is a useless digression to discuss my hair, but you're projecting, Kit, only you would uselessly talk about your hair and your attitude towards it and expect others to listen in rapt attention to your prattling.

My point, Kit, and unlike you would in this situation, I certainly have one, my point is that my ever lengthing hair was a point of MAJOR CONTROVERSY on that side of the family. I believe I caused my poor mother major embarrassment when her hippie-ass son came home even though that hippie-ass son had a couple of computer engineering degrees from Michigan.

The fact that I didn't have a haircut resembling the choices provided by Billy Bob Thornton in The Man Who Wasn't There freaked these people out. And now my idiot brother got a tongue piercing.

But, Kit, here is the coup de grace: he hasn't told anyone. And Thanksgiving is coming up. My mother has seen him a few times since and not noticed... so my brother is going to be walking into about 20 relatives who expect him to be a bit of an underachiever but not, for heaven's sake, to have a piercing. I've sat around these people as they watch Survivor (back when Survivor was cool) and clamor for people with tatoos or piercings to be sent home because "they aren't our kind of people."

He probably thinks if he just doesn't say much and he keeps his mouth shut he'll get away with it. He does not know that his doom is coming, coming in a red '95 Jeep Cherokee with a license plate that reads "GOEBLEU," coming from me.

Hey, Chris, I think we should have a competition to see who has the biggest tongue!
Hey, Chris, I think little of you so I am going to stick my tongue out at you, I wonder if you will be man enough to return the gesture?
Hey, Chris, nice fucking tongue piercing.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! EVIL!

-Brian

Raffi:

Fuck off with your dismissiveness. It's not like you've got anything better to do. It's not like Latvian beauties are dumping their Brazilian boyfriends and throwing themselves at your feet, begging you to ravage their lithe Latvian bodies, to pop their waiting Latvian cherries, to wrack their ready Latvian spines with tremors of pleasure.

No, likely you're sitting at home like Kit, except you're not alone with your somewhat melancholy reflection. No, you're sitting at home with your prostate-free dad, who's undoubtedly destroying any ability to reflect by asking you questions about me, probing my influence over you and plotting to somehow extricate myself from your life. Well, fuck your dad, and fuck your Latvian-unfucking-ass.

-Brian

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!