Today is Thanksgiving, and because she loves the holiday so much, supermarket tabloid aficionado Helen Peters has written in to share her thoughts.
To My Friends At The Jezebel:
You’ll have to forgive me if my letter writing capabilities are not at their very best on this, our Thanksgiving holiday, because my best friend Barbara and I decided to have a little Bailey’s with our coffee this morning, you know, you gotta live a little sometimes, and I’m telling you, I am feeling the holiday spirit from my head to my toes. But in a classy way, of course, nobody’s wearing a lampshade on their head or anything like that, and thank God for that because drunken lampshade shenanigans usually lead to a broken lampshades and it is such a pain to go out to Target’s during Christmastime to buy ordinary things like lampshades while everyone else on Earth is filling their carts with whatchamacalits and whosiwhatsits and whatevers.
I am not a fan of holiday shopping in the stores; I do all of my business through the QVC, or sometimes on the computer if Barbara is around to show me where to find some good bargains. This year, I’m buying everyone a good pair of gloves and a nice warm hat, with the exception of my friend Marion in Florida, who will be receiving a warm pair of slippers for the indoors, because I’ve been to Marion’s house and my God, with the air conditioning that woman uses, you’d think you’d see penguins skating on her toilet seat, wearing hats and scarves themselves, for cripes sake.
Anyway, I know I usually write to you about celebrities, you know, the people in my magazines, but I’m afraid there’s not much to be thankful for on that front, with one major exception: Princess Diana’s boy is finally getting married. Can you believe it? Oh, what a spectacle. It’s all Barbara can talk about, though between you and me, the whole thing makes me a bit nervous for both of those lovely children, because I watched his mother’s wedding and oh, it was just the most romantic thing, but what happened after that was so sad, and I just want better things for her poor boys, they’ve been through so much. But this Prince William and this Kate of his, they seem to know what they’re doing, and I wish them all the best. I hope the wedding is beautiful, but I hope their life together, the stuff that really matters, is more beautiful, and that people leave them alone enough so they can experience it together. I also hope all of those British ladies wear those giant hats with the big ol’ feathers sticking out from the top. I just love those hats! They just scream “class.” Maybe I should start wearing hats like that, eh? Get swept away by a prince of my very own? He’d have to like dogs, have very good manners, and look like The Mentalist, ah-cha-cha, good Lord get out of here, the man has a face that could give a volcano the sweats!
In any case, prince or so, I have a lot to be thankful for. I’m thankful for my friend Barbara, for my beloved Albert—that’s my dog—for the years I had with my William, God rest his soul, (and let me tell you, ladies, the man was so gorgeous, he could turn chocolate ice cream into hot cocoa with a wink of his eye), and, of course, for my son, Kevin who—get this—actually has a girlfriend, praise the Saints and pass the mashed potatoes. Her name is Allyson, she’s a science teacher, very smart, very kind, and she looks just like that Reese Winterspoons, you know, the one from those blonde lawyer films where she wears those darling pink suits and carries around a tiny dog? Albert loves those films. He likes any movie where a small dog gets a chance to shine, and don’t we all, really? I think we do. Except for maybe that ol’ Alice Fishby, who, I imagine, watches movies starring small dogs and spends an hour and 45 minutes yelling at them so they don’t poop on her lawn.
Anyway, Kevin is bringing this Allyson for dessert tonight and Barbara and I are just dying, because this strikes us as a Big Deal, capital B, capital D., you know, this makes it very serious and official and potentially on the track to the big “I do.” So keep your fingers crossed and I’ll keep sneaking a little Bailey’s into my coffee because I’m a nervous wreck and I’m shaking more than I did back in the days when I knew how to do the Peppermint Twist. Exciting things are happening! Love is in the air, is what I said to Barbara, and then of course she saw George Clooney in a magazine and said something about her legs being in the air that I am too much of a lady to repeat here. That Barbara! She is too much.
I’m also thankful for you, my friends at the Jezebel, and I have a few wishes for all of you: I hope you all find something to make you happy today, and I hope you all know how very special you are. I know the world gets crazy this time of year and tries to convince you that everything you need can be bought, but that’s just not the case. Love is free, and the very first person you need to give it to is yourself. Does that sound like something Oprah would say? Barbara and I have been watching a lot of Oprah lately—did you see all those women going wackadoo nutso when she gave them all that free stuff last week? Oh, we died laughing. I was in tears. This is not to say I wouldn’t have been a bit excited myself, but oh, the laughs I shared with Barbara and Albert were better than any gift Oprah could have given us. And maybe she knew that. Maybe that was her best gift of all: giving Barbara and I just one more memory to laugh about. Now that’s something to be thankful for. Well, that, and that dishy Mentalist. I’d probably scream some Oprah audience screams myself if I came downstairs on Christmas day and found that gorgeous man beneath my tree. Think of the money I’d save on heating bills, if you catch my drift!
I wish you and those you love the very best on this Thanksgiving holiday.
Your Friend And Neighbor,
Helen Peters