The Right-Click family did not participate in the formal goings-on of Thanksgiving this year. And let me tell you: it was totally bitchen.
I’ve never been a big fan of Thanksgiving. I suppose the abstract concept of giving thanks for shit is nice, but here’s a couple problems I have with it: isn’t it a celebration of that short period of time after the pilgrims landed, when they were too sick to start persecuting the Native Americans? So they decided to just eat their food instead? Or something? Are we celebrating the fact that not everybody was dead yet, or the fact that some of the earlier settlers had enough self-control as to not kill their Native American hosts until after all of the pumpkin pie was eaten?
Which brings me to pie. Dude, pumpkin is a squash. You can put all the sugar you want on it, and it’s still a big round vegetable filled with slimy stuff and seeds, mmkay? The reason that the pilgims ate it was because they were stuck in BFE rural Massachusetts, during the late fall/early winter, without a global economy and its concomitant year-round produce. Everything else was pretty much dead. Don’t you think that if there were apples or blueberries–I don’t know, chocolate cake–to be had, they’d have eaten that instead? I mean, who puts sugar on squash for any other reason than to hide the fact that *they are eating squash*? The good news is, we don’t have to eat squash pie anymore! And don’t get me started on the mincemeat!
It’s easy for me to be flippant about Thanksgiving because I have never “gotten” the fascination with the food. Turkey is OK, I don’t mind it. But I don’t get excited about it or anything. Mashed potatoes–eh. I’d rather have french fries, frankly. Or even potato chips. Even Baked Lays, in fact.
So, thusfar, the Thanksgiving meal can be done more quickly and easily at Subway, in my mind.
The kicker is stuffing. Some people look forward to this stuffing shit all year long and I just do not get it. Do you know what’s in that stuff? It’s bread, seasoning, giblets (shudder), maybe some nuts or fruit thrown in. Oh yeah, and then there’s the special ingredient: TURKEY HOO-HOO JUICE. Oh yeah. That’s where they cook it, dude. Don’t let them tell you any different. That’s why it’s called “stuffing.” You know, because it’s used to fill up the gaping void in the middle of the turkey carcass, where the turkey’s ovaries used to be. I spent my formative years watching my mom stuff that crap into the turkey’s vajayjay and later saying, “Not for me, thanks,” when the stuffing was passed around for this very reason.
Now, sweet potatoes can be good, again, if they’re covered in sugar of some kind. But why not just, oh I don’t know, NOT EAT THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE? As an adult, I like to use this general rule for eating: anything that requires the addition of a layer of roasted marshmallows just so that it is edible is best left on the table. You’re not doing yourself any favors by eating the sweet potatoes, just eat a bag of marshmallows instead, and then at least you won’t feel sick and tired afterward.
This year was a strange confluence of atypical events–parents away at other destinations for Thanksgiving with friends, brother and other relatives across the country, Mini too young to know what the hell is going on. It was a perfect storm of excuses to flake, and we jumped on it. We dove into our four-day weekend free from holiday obligations with the kind of fervor that can only come from knowing it might not ever happen again–next year, Mini might want to try that damn pumpkin pie, even if I tell him what’s in it. So this year, I devoured my spicy tuna salad in peace. And gave thanks for the time off.