Let’s be Thanksgiving

I'm the pall over the table since we lost mom. We all agree that she would've laughed that we forgot to take the giblets out. Come to think of it, Mom was sort of a bitch

R1 oh shit, were we supposed to take the giblets out of that plastic bag before we put the turkey in the oven?

I'm sitting at the kids table at 38.

Didn’t The Waitresses write a song about this?

Cooking for hours so you can eat it all in 20 minutes.

I’m the reservation I made at a nice restaurant for two friends and me. It’s a buffet, so no one is going to be nagging at me, “Oh, you just think you don’t like Brussels sprouts because you haven’t tried MY Brussels sprouts.”

Same with pumpkin pie.

I’ll have turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberries, maybe salmon for my second round.

There’s also shrimp cocktail, and for dessert, crème brûlée.

We’ve been doing this for several years and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I'm the unseasonably warm weather that makes the temperature in the house unbearable with all the cooking going on.

I'm the little tickle in your throat, could I be covid? You'll never know because you'll never get sick enough to test. Your crazy rightwing douchebag uncle who you argue with face to face for 30 minutes about covid lockdowns and stolen elections, let's just say I'll do more than tickle him.

I'm the dumpy grandma, out driving recklessly and clueless in heavy traffic, en route to numerous stores, where I will act rude, ugly, demanding, and entitled in my annual quest to be QUEEN OF THE HOLIDAYS. I have no clue my kids and the rest of my relatives think my cooking sucks and they'd just as soon go to a restaurant or to a football game. I have no idea that I should now act butthurt and taken advantage of. No one gives a shit.

I'm the empty once again Highball.

R9 I’m dumpy grandpa’s dwindling savings and mounting credit card debt, so dumpy grandma can stay relevant to their junkie, porn addict grandkids.

I'm the pecan pie. I'm all gone and people haven't had a chance for second servings.

I'm the pumpkin pieS. Still plenty! Lots of leftovers.

I’m the homophobic, yet welcoming relatives’ stern warning to “don’t be alone with them” and “let us know if anything happens…” to the kids before you and your partner arrive. Years later in therapy they’ll wonder why mommy said this when daddy was the perpetrator all along, they’ll realize it was projection.

I'm the simmering tension because of the midterms. The boiling point is about two plates of candied yams and a couple of Pabst.

I'm the Canadian that celebrates our Thanksgiving the second Monday in October each year. We are relieved to have the time to catch our breath before the whole Christmas season uproar.

I'm Thanksgiving long weekend at the camp on Raquette Lake. It's takes hours to get there from Albany and Albany is far from everywhere. Who's bright idea was this? Everyone is crabby until they get drunk. I'm the Dartmouth sophomore hunk brought along by baby brother. I'm the hunk's big brah dick being drained in the boathouse by slutty older brother, at exactly 9:30 am Friday morning.

I'm the asshole personality-disordered relative who makes everything about me, me, me. I call an hour before the set time when dinner will be served with a tale of woe that takes up 10 minutes of the host's time, just to say I'll be an hour late, so hold dinner.

After the food is kept warm for an hour, with excuses to the starving multitudes, it will be served. Discontentedly, people will say, "Where's Grandma? We can't start without Grandma."

Around the time pumpkin pie and coffee are served, I will make my Grand Entrance, full of long stories about why it's everyone else's fault that I'm' 2-1/2 hours late. When I see the pie and coffee, my face will fall. "Oh, you started without me? Oh, well, don't mind me. I wasn't hungry anyway." Various relatives will flock to me and shoot you angry, reproachful looks on my behalf.

I'm the 3:00 Zoom call with my family that has replaced in-person big family gatherings since 2020.

Fly home to California from NY on Tuesday—stop by say hi to the folks, take your boyfriend to Disneyland for a day of shits & giggles on Wednesday….on thanksgiving morning wake up to an early call telling uou…your parent just died.

I am the uncomfortable heated political discussion about why Donald Trump should be President in 2024 that is quickly turning ugly.

I'm the homemade treats -- the sweet-potato pie; the stuffing made with high-end bread, torn, seasoned, and toasted; the glazed, roasted veggies; the baked, mashed Idaho potatoes laden with butter, etc.

I am proudly served, but passed over for what other people brought to the potluck: supermarket pumpkin pie, Stove Top stuffing, candied yams (2 cans for $5), and reconstituted mashed potatoes from flakes.

No one ever went broke underestimating the tastes of the American public.

I am the last straw - the explosion of stress and the ugly cry- “WHO IPENED THE CAN OF CRANBERRY SAUCE AND DIDN’Y TRANSFER IT to another container? WHO? WHO put it back in the refrigerator like this? You idiot! now it tastes like CAR KEYS!!!” Five years of worries and disappointments detonated by an open can.

I'm open carry laws. Lookin' forward to a great day!

I'm the driveway, where most of the adult kids end up shortly after the table is cleared (but before dish washing duty). I hear you discuss how dad keeps slowing down, and that mom is crazier than ever, and marvel at your ability to pretend to like one another when, after tonight, you won't speak to, or see each other, again until next year.

I'm that feeling you get. The one you that you finally understand how The Civil War was "brother against brother" after your own brother says girls who get abortions are murdering whores. knowing full well that you had an abortion when his friend raped you the morning after Thanksgiving, 25 years ago.

I'm the sudden appearance of gluten intolerances, food allergies, vegan diets, etc. The host asked about me in the group text and no one bothered to reply.

Now 2/3 of the attendees, grown-ass adults, are wrinkling their noses at the fare like a kindergartener contemplating a smorgasbord of brussels sprouts. "Well, at least I can eat mashed potatoes. Oh, you used butter? Oh, yeah, no, I can't eat butter. That's dairy. What else do you have?"

I’m two nights of torture sleeping in a dirty guest room on an ancient mattress that has given me back pain every visit. I keep suggesting to have a new one shipped as a “gift” to my spinal cord.

I'm the awkward conversation with siblings, cousins, and assorted old relatives. I consist of the same exact "remember when?" highlights I've consisted of for the last 20 years.

"Remember when Uncle Fred and I took you and your sister to the beach?" "Remember when you brought home a turtle and you told me not to tell mom, but the turtle got loose?"

Once, it felt nostalgic. Now, it's depressing.

You have so little in common with these people that even ordinary shoot-the-breeze small talk is out of reach.

I'm the appalled faces when I tell them why my handmade pie crust is so flaky: Crisco.

I'm the appalled faces when I tell them why MY handmade pie crust is so flaky.

I'm the "Let’s be Thanksgiving" thread from 2021.....and 2020...and 2019......etc

I'm the coma the entire gathering falls into after the load of tryptophan and carbs hit the bloodstream.

Quiet, at last.

I'm Uncle Ned, who, as always, is the "adult" assigned to manage the kiddie table. Mom wonders nervously who she's going to replace the 60 year old with when his high blood pressure and dodgy ticker collapse after one of these Thanskgiving marathons.

I'm the silent prayer that the "Promptly at 4:00!" dinner time isn't 4 hours too early this year, like it has been for the last 10.

R31 Well see it opnce a year

I am the great promise that this thread will evolve into a classic or at least an entertaining read over the next couple of weeks as its predecessors did in past years.

I'm the Pillsbury biscuits coming out at the last minute so they're hot as dinner starts.

^I'm also the Pillsbury Dough Boy. I can't believe people are still eating this shit.

I'm the argument over whether low and slow roasted or fried bird is better.

I'm the stage of dinner where people are picking at the stuffing from the serving platter instead of adding another helping to their own plates.

I'm the offhand mention by the cook that they're low on some ingredient or other. You will gratefully seize the opportunity -- "Oh, let me and David just pop out and get some!"

Anything to get away from the oppressive family dynamics for a few minutes.

The trip to the grocery store will take 15 minutes, but you'll be gone for an hour. Weed and McDonalds fries may be involved. When you get back with the cinnamon powder, things will seem a lot more bearable.

I'm the Martinelli's Sparkling Cider, without which no holiday dinner would be complete.

R18, I last an hour and when it's over, I'm also the relief the participants feel because they don't have to spend all afternoon with people who emotionally and physically exhaust them.

I'm the always tardy aunt who insists on bringing an appetizer but then doesn't show up until dinner is being put on the table.

I'm the "March of the Wooden Soldiers" film from the 1930s with Laurel and Hardy that the kids ignore but the adults get all nostalgic about.

I am the passive aggressive host at r44 who doesn't put Aunt Tardy's appetizer out, but packs it away in the refrigerator.

I'm the teenage daughter who picks at the dinner because she's dieting and then eats a huge slice of pumpkin and then apple pie, both with mounds of vanilla ice-cream on the side.

I'm the homemade whipped cream starting to loosen within 5 minutes of being brought out to garnish the pies.

I'm the Christmas tree that is already up, reminding everyone that we have to do this whole thing again in four fucking weeks.

I'm the MIL who has run you both ragged looking at condos closer to you as I now live 40 miles away on the other side of the city. After a bad bathroom fall, you finally think she's found one she likes. I've put in an offer, gotten an inspection and nearly closed only to cancel the whole thing. You will nearly stab me with the serving fork when I say "It sure will be nice when I can find a condo closer to you and we can see each other more often tan we do"

R47, I'm the upstairs toilet bowl she vomits in after dinner.

I am the frau cook who, once every couple years, gets hold of the Thanksgiving issue of Saveur or Food and Wine and foolishly attempts some of the recipes.

"Isn't this oyster stuffing something? The secret is in the pumpernickel bread. The kalamata olives are just my special touch! I heard it's best to leave the pits in to enhance the flavor."

I'm the endless loop of holiday shows already starting, including Elf, It's a Wonderful Life, three different versions of "A Christmas Carol", as well as three different versions of "The Nutcracker", and the old Danny Kaye "Hans Christian Andersen".

Trust me: March of the Wooden Soldiers is the best of the lot.

I'm the 3lb. weight gain that won't come off until just before Christmas - just in time for the next dinner.

Just over 50 posts in and Thanksgiving sounds fucking insufferable.

Don't mention Christmas.....

I'm the inevitable remark by the elderly aunt about how lucky we all are to be sitting down to this table groaning under all the food.

I'm the sugar bomb dessert topped with M&Ms and with an indefinable goo beneath from a recipe which great-aunt Beryl clipped out of a magazine in 1947 and brings to every family gathering. No one likes it or has ever liked it but delicate near-centenarian great-aunt Beryl would be crushed if everyone didn't have some and praise it.

I'm the baby of the clan, only 11 months old so this is my first go-round with this gig, and every ten minutes my mother points to the mess I've made on the highchair tray, and exclaims proudly, "Look what a great eater he is! He's eating everything we are!"

[quote] I'm Uncle Ned, who, as always, is the "adult" assigned to manage the kiddie table. Mom wonders nervously who she's going to replace the 60 year old with when his high blood pressure and dodgy ticker collapse after one of these Thanskgiving marathons.

Why does Uncle Ned always want to manage the kiddie table? What's Ned's last name? I want to look him up.

I'm the ride home in the dark, Dad is gripping the wheel with both hands as he goes down those small back roads, muttering "I'll be lucky if I don't hit a deer or something before we get to the highway."

I'm the heated discussion in the car going home about how next year we're going away somewhere, Costa Rica or Florida or something, because we can't take another one of these . . .

R59 He got the job twenty years ago when he thought it would be fun, but he never married or had kids of his own, so he got stuck with it. All the men with wives and children get to sit at the Big Table.

It's like Ned skipped a right of passage that has relegated him to the inferior position. Only males still in school and under thirty get a pass to the Big Table - especially if they're good at school athletics.

Last name is Smith. Good luck!

I'm the uncle who, every year for 23 years now, has announced after dinner that "It's not all the food that makes you sleepy! It's the tryptophan in turkey! It's a hormone that makes you tired. And people think it's overeating! But it turns out it's the tryptophan."

Every year, he says it as if he were a science expert breaking world-changing news.

One day, he will be found dead with a turkey leg jammed in his esophagus, and another up his ass. The coroner will list the cause of death as L-tryptophan poisoning.

^*Only unmarried males under thirty get a pass to the big table . .

I'm the fucking headache of trying to get all those leftovers into the fucking fridge.

I'm Dad, garrulously making the same remark he has every year since Nixon's first term. Looking at your plate, empty after two helpings of everything, he jokes, "What'samatter? Not hungry? You barely touched your food!"

We're Daphne and Vanderbilt, being reminded...

I’m drunk before two pm due to boredom and anxiety. My brother is even drunker as he has put away a twelve pack, having had a head start from breakfast. He is red and his cheeks are swollen from chewing tobacco. Uhoh, now politics has entered the room, descending like an ugly black cloud of locusts. The aunts retreat to the kitchen and start running the water and nervously giggling. The tic tok cousins whip out their phones. Happy Turkey day y’all!

I'm the unseasonably warm Thanksgiving when the screened-in back porch doesn't keep any food under 65°f, never mind 40°f.

I'm the heroin addicted nephews heroin addicted girlfriend. I nod out almost immediately but not before pocketing a lot of silverware.

I'm the green bean casserole turning into a lumpy gray congealed mass. Nobody likes me but I'm traditional.

We're phones. Every attendee between the ages of 4 and 24 focuses exclusively on us.

Speaking to them is no use. You cannot break the spell. You might get a grudging response, or they might not hear. They're not trying to be rude; they just honestly have no idea how to socialize, and no concept of what the purpose of talking to old folks might even be.

The children belong to us now.

I'm the lesbian that brought the nutloaf

I'm a nice girl.

Grandma asks if you've met me, and if you're dating anyone.

You answer loudly because she's hard of hearing. "NO ONE SPECIAL YET, GRANDMA."

The rest of the table is silent, looking at their plates.

I’m the long ass drive to go back to a place I ran away from.

I'm your ass, falling asleep. Christ almighty this a long meal

I'm the sullen 14 year old with the nose ring going through a vegan phase who won't eat anything but the sweet potatoes, green beans almandine, and corn bread (after being assured it was made with oil not butter and contains no sugar), and who issues dire warnings throughout the meal about the rest of the family's early deaths from coronary artery disease.

You piece of shit

^Pardon?

"FINE, R77. It's probably GMO corn, though. You know Monsanto has its ugly fingerprints on everything on this table. But whatever, I guess."

Contact Greg. He buys canned cranberry sauce and stove top stuffing in bulk.

I'm the vegan roast turkey roast from Trader Joe's and my delicious gravy brings all the javelinas to the yard.

^Of course, many mistake Arizona politicians for javelinas.

I’m a wealthy family’s Thanksgiving. Everyone has their own bedrooms & private bathrooms in this 8,000 square foot house and the maid cleaned & turned the linens on Tuesday for the arrivals. We’ve brought in a chef and a server. The bar is fully stocked and the wine cellar has some great selections, in fact all of them are fabulous. Everyone has a lot to be grateful for, because money covers up most unhappiness. All these posts sound foreign to our bunch. “Everyone raise your glass (of Petrus 2016), let’s have a cheers to another year of being extremely fortunate!”

I'm Madge, laced up a corset with fat bulging from every angle, I'll be your turkey lurkey this evening... eat me.

I am alone and depressed.

I've got one for you-- let me post it here.

R84 How do I get an invite?

R88 Darling, ummm… we’re full up this year. So sorry, maybe another time.

I’m the older millennial girl who is hosting the feast, now that her Boomer parents are becoming increasingly geriatric. “Everything better be perfect or I’m gonna like totally flip out! Where is my Xanax? I’m like literally having a panic attack!”

I’m the huge political fight that causes anger, sadness, dysfunction, indigestion after dinner.

I'm the chain smoker going outside because "I need a breath of fresh air" for the 3rd time. Everyone notices I smell like cigarette smoke when I get back in.

I'm the Thanksgiving themed grocery store cupcakes.

I'm Susie. I've decided to stay home this year. (Again.) My 4 cats and I have made a fantastic 5 quart green bean and macaroni & cheese casserole. I picked up a pumpkin pie and a liter of chardonnay from Lidl, and rented "Pieces of April" on Amazon. I own it on DVD, but I overwatered the philodendron that sits on top of the player, so we're giving it a rest. I hear that the weather might clear up tomorrow?...

I'm the family dog walking around to everyone hoping someone, anyone, will drop me a scrap of something.

I am r95’s dog’s onion farts clearing the room 3 hours later.

I’m R94 and I was meant to go in the ‘Lesbian Thanksgiving’ thread.

I'm the irritated cook who wants to smack a guest complaining about everything I made ("too salty," "too dry," "this is overcooked," etc.). If you think you can do better, you're more than welcome to do all the cooking next year.

I’m R92 and I might not be such a cunt if I had an occasional cigarette.

I'm the annoying moment when Mother insists on asking everyone at the table one-by-one: "So what are YOU thankful for this year?"

You type cute R97 . Do you like green bean and macaroni & cheese casserole?

I'm Grandma wanting to say grace and thank The Lord for blessing us with this delicious meal and allowing us to come together one more time. The Atheist relatives sigh but humor me anyway because who knows if this will be my last Thanksgiving or not?

[quote]I'm the pall over the table since we lost mom.

I'm the clock you keep staring thinking it's impossible for time to move so slowly.

I'm Uncle Dave emerging from the guest bathroom after a bout of post-dinner explosive diarrhea. I'm mortified by how obviously everyone heard every cacophonous shart, but not as mortified as the next person entering death dungeon will be.

I'm the woke teenager who learned what a "racist, problematic, genocide celebrating" holiday this is on TikTok a couple hours ago. I will be bringing it up at dinner and informing my family why we shouldn't be here acknowledging it. They'll just say "Really? I didn't know" and go right back to eating.

I'm "The Game" that the men can't miss, so the women can get on those dishes.

^You and I have GOT to meet!

I offer to whip the cream.

I'm the Gen Xers who are surprisingly nostalgic about Midnight Madness stampedes at brick and mortar big box stores. "Remember the time we got VCRs for 15 bucks and the four Rapunzel Barbies we needed?"

Oops, must have been DVD players.

I'm the grand-aunt who squirts Reddi Wip Into the baby's mouth.

I've had three glasses of punch too many and the baby is now at the Emergency Room because Aunt-Aunt held onto the nozzle much. too. long.

Oops.

I'm the totally outdated pastel mint/lime green Jello Salad that Aunt Paula ALWAYS makes. I never cease to mystify as Im disgusting to look at, and am always completely eaten, while I suspend random ingredients in space. Once I'm gone, the older family members are getting all nostalgic over my presence.

I'm Birds Eye frozen pearl onions in cream sauce. I used to be a staple in American homes for Thanksgiving but I am no longer sold.

R114 You're still for sale here!

I'm the host's dog, and this is my favorite day of the year! I've been on eight walks with different relatives looking to escape drama, and I've consumed my body weight from people sneaking me table scraps. As everyone settles in for a post-dinner nap/movie, I'll promptly vomit in front of the fire place and proceed to eat that too. Today is a good day.

I’m the delusional narratives that are propped up to make us believe the world thinks we’re the perfect family.

I am Entenmann's pumpkin pie and coconut custard pie. We were staples on the Thanksgiving tables of millions of New Yorkers for generations. We were also the best damn pies you could buy and the best things Entenmann's ever made. Then the cunts at megaconglomerate Bimbo bought Entenmann's, and discontinued us.

We're just a memory, but millions miss us every year.

I'm the kids messing around on their phones in the front yard, waiting, because we know after all of the dinner and fellowship comes the fighting of old childhood battles, and everyone will be headed out the door screaming and yelling

I'm the deep serenity that rises up once you're among the oldest in the family and can do as you please, as in telling all those argumentative dipshit relatives of yours to enjoy whatever it is they're doing on Thanksgiving, but you're not coming near, not having ANYTHING to do with it. It's a FANTASTIC feeling.

I'm the adult gay son who gets seated at the kids' table every year because I'm single with no kids and deemed not worthy of sitting at the adults' table.

Hi! I’m the dry as fuck turkey that you can barely chew and certainly cannot swallow. 🦃

I'm the pictures of the dishes posted on Facebook that the account owner thinks will make everyone jealous of her "perfect cooking," But really they'll be thinking "that looks like shit. I'm glad I'm not having Thanksgiving at her house."

I'm the guest who surprises the host by bringing all her own food -- three bowls of side dishes and a casserole, because of "special medical dietary needs." Two of the dishes are duplicates of dishes the host already prepared.

There's no room for the extra food in the kitchen or on the table, or in the oven, where the guest "just needs to heat up the casserole for about 20 minutes."

The casserole is tuna noodle and after 15 minutes in the oven the whole house smells like tuna.

I'm the mother and daughter who complain bitterly about how crowded holiday shopping is, what a burden it is to buy Christmas gifts, and how rude people are nowadays.

We also ask brightly if anyone would like to join us at the Black Friday doorbuster sales.

I'm the hostess who has been slaving over this dinner for 24 hours straight. I told everyone to skip lunch and save their appetite.

Yes, the turkey's taking a LOT longer to cook than I expected, but no way in hell am I gonna serve snacks or hors d'oeuvres. That'd just spoil everyone's appetite. And don't come around the kitchen hoping to sneak a bite of anything, either. I've got my eye on you.

I'm the 32-oz. jar of Best Foods mayonnaise. You'll need me tomorrow for those turkey breast (dry) sandwiches.

I'm Jimmy's fucking hand-trace turkey drawing. Mom says Jimmy is another DaVinci. Mom is an enabling idiot.

I'm the tacky, plastic horn-of-plenty centerpiece from Walmart that Aunt Mavis keeps haughtily referring to as a cornucopia.

I'm the dutiful oldest child in the family who took over holiday and birthday celebrations when Mom's health failed eons ago. Everyone always praised me for working so hard to make each occasion festive for family and friends, but no one offered to handle things themselves. The year that the last elderly relative died, I politely announced that I didn't plan to celebrate holidays in future and I've reveled in peaceful solitude ever since.

I'm the $12.99 all-you-can-eat Thanksgiving buffet special at Golden Corral that looks infinitely more appealing to any of the above scenarios. And I think Golden Corral is one step up from dumpster diving.

R121, Why'd you pick the photo of some douchebag QAnon/GQP traitor to post?

Regardless, the kids' table was always more fun anyway.

I am the vilest noxious fart my mother releases at the dining room table as she says"Thank you!" everyone laughs except for me I want to lunge across the table and choke her till the life goes out of her eyes.

[quote] Why'd you pick the photo of some douchebag QAnon/GQP traitor to post?

Dear God, are you so insane that you think people should research the subjects of random photos they see online for throwaway visuals? Wow. Talk about extreme.

R122 I keep reading this as "I'm the dry fuck".

It’s so easy to make cranberry sauce. It’s very simple and you can control the ingredients and illuminate preservatives. I like my cranberry sauce with a touch of maple syrup.

I'm the *other* can of crescent roll dough, the one from the back of the fridge. I'm probably from last year's BOGO but you are afraid to check my expiration date.

I'm the car trip to the family's dinner at Aunt Frances' house. On the way, you pass a couple open restaurants and a diner. Stopped at a light, you look into the diner, see people eating, drinking coffee. How you wish you could be one of them, enjoying a Thanksgiving dinner of a burger and beer in a diner, and not walking into the ravenous maw of toxicity that is your family.

[quote]It’s very simple and you can control the ingredients and illuminate preservatives.

Yes, sodium benzoate looks beautiful under a small halogen spotlight.

I'm NPR and for the 57th year in a row the topic has turned to Susan Stamberg's mom's cranberry sauce and its unfortunate resemblance to Pepto-Bismol.

I am the cat who jumped on the table and licked the pumpkin pie before getting shooed off. My brother cat licked the cranberry sauce (because he is dumb) and got down himself. My sister cat was a good girl and got her own seat at the table. She is attempting to drink her own weight in gravy.

R141 I think you’re looking for the Lez Thanksgiving thread

R138 I think Edward Hopper may be posting here.

[quote] It’s so easy to make cranberry sauce. It’s very simple and you can control the ingredients and illuminate preservatives. I like my cranberry sauce with a touch of maple syrup.

I have made homemade cranberry sauce before with fresh oranges, etc. Lots of people just prefer the canned one (Ocean Spray brand, I think).

My family & extended family didn't ever make / serve that green bean casserole. My cousin decided to start making it, and now, it's "tradition." I can understand making that casserole due to longstanding tradition, but why the hell would you start it so late in the game?

My family has boring tastes in Thanksgiving foods.

I'm Darfur Orfan. I can't stop crying.

R144 When does a tradition start? I never had GBC before my 20's, but I liked it right away and when I found out it was a typical Thanksgiving side dish I added it. Same with candied yams.

Aww! I'll send you a plate, R145.

I bsolutely hate that green bean casserole. We never had it at any T'giving dinner until my cousin's wife started making it.

Also - if you were Italian, at least back when I was little (the 60s, my grandfather was Italian) you had lasagna and meatballs and stuff like that on the table along with turkey and everything else.

[quote] [R144] When does a tradition start? I never had GBC before my 20's, but I liked it right away and when I found out it was a typical Thanksgiving side dish I added it.

R146, I guess it depends on whether you like the end product or not.

The original GBC had canned green beans, canned Campbell's cream of mushroom soup, and packaged (Durkee?) fried onions. I just don't understand why you'd want to start that tradition so late in the game.

If you're going to update it with fresh green beans, a roux, fresh onions, etc., the OGs (people who grew up on the canned ingredients) aren't going to like it as much. People who never had GBC would probably be happy with something else (as far as a vegetable side dish), so why bother.

I never heard of GBC until I was old. Is it a Flyoverstan thing? (I'd only lived on the coasts up to that point.)

I'm the car filled with farts for that long drive home.

I'm the Thanksgiving parade sideshow of poorly conceived, unappealing Broadway show numbers that convince no one to spend $200 a ticket to see next time they're in NYC.

R131 WITH GR-A-VY

"Traditions" change all the time. I'm 60 and when I was a boy nobody had heard of

deep-fried Turkey

Turducken

Tofurky

etc etc etc

If traditions changed all the time, they wouldn't be...traditions.

R149 That was around 30 years ago, and I had only hosted Thanksgiving dinner a few times by then so my own household had no established traditions. Why does it bother you? I've made it from scratch and it was not nearly as good, although I do usually use fresh or frozen beans instead of canned. Fresh onions do not give the same results as French fried onions so IDK why you would want sub it, and CoM soup is a white roux with mushrooms.

I'm the huge lasagna at the Italian Thanksgiving table, but with all the turkey and fixin's, who will have room for me? Why must I always be here when barely any of me gets eaten until a few days after?

r157, I would happily go down on your huge Lasagna, I hate turkey!

R157 the Lasagna is there to remind everyone and respect that one is Italian American. I think every ethnic heritage has an item or two unique to the heritage.

[quote] I'm 60

Aren't you a bit young for DL?

Also, the awkward conversation and trying to be nice to relatives I don't care...or even like. Just getting through the day without drama...

I'm elderly Aunt Milly, who keeps farting at the table and scolding Libby, the golden retriever, lying next to her hoping for more scraps, for doing it

I will happily eat that lasagna, all by myself if necessary. I'll start with the breakfast lasagna, the one with the Jimmy Dean Sausage.

🦃 Mangia'

I'm the newly dry-cleaned 100% rayon brown and orange caftan hanging in the closet. I know how to hostess.

🍻 I'm Dad and Uncle Billy, sitting at the kitchen table at 10:30 am, drinking several shots of Four Roses along with several bottles on Koehler Beer.

We'll be asleep before the 26 pound turkey even comes out of the oven.

We'll be doing the same thing for Christmas and New Year's Day.

I'm just about anyone out there, Hellbent to get home to my 'loved ones' (ugh) for Thanksgiving, only to hate the whole, boring/suffocating experience and bitch loudly about it when I come home. I repeat this whole tired exercise every fucking year. I must be mentally ill.

I have an elderly relative who craps her pants after eating

I'm the annual post-dinner beating in the garage. After 167 replies, I'm much preferred to all of the incontinent and flatulent relatives that everyone else has to put up with.

This thread reminds me of his cut for time SNL sketch

R169 its not funnier than today's show, but it's classier.

I’m a holiday bitch

Who knew DLers were so trashy? [Except R84]

R89. Darling, ummm.....Muffy would never say "full up".

R171 I’m an everyday bitch!

I'm the sister-in-law who waits until the last minute and then always serves the pumpkin pie hot.

I’m the sister in law who has a new restrictive diet every year. I will bring by own food and make a huge deal about how this new made up diet has made me “feel better than I have in years!”

I'm the sister-in-law who, after a few wine glasses, is convinced she can "cure" your homosexuality in 20 minutes... wink wink

I’m the lesbian teenager who’s in front of the TV football game with all the menfolk while every other woman is in the kitchen cleaning up after the dinner they spent hours cooking. No one wants to create a scene over my inexcusable refusal to obey the unspoken family rules specifying strict observance of sexual division of labor but, oh, will they be talking about me later.

😁 Careful R167, someday you might be that elderly relative

I’m the lasagna, served at Thanksgiving for over 90 years. However I am now served between appetizers and the seated dinner as a self-serve pasta course from the kitchen island. Great grandma is spinning in her grave but at least it is made and everyone enjoys it and says it is almost as good as great grandma’s lasagna.

[quote]It’s so easy to make cranberry sauce. It’s very simple and you can control the ingredients and illuminate preservatives. I like my cranberry

I like my cranberries sprinkled around the candle for festive touch.

My Friend Julie came for Thanksgiving and brought her candied yams seasoned with MiraLAX. She's such a cunt.

I'm Uncle Billy's son from R165, Billy Junior. I'm nothing like my burly, hairy blue-collar dad. I'm back from my first year of college, the first one in the family to go.

By the time dinner rolls around, I'm no longer hungry because the (male) cousins and I spent the morning in our secret childhood hideout, where I demonstrated multiple times how I got my new nickname "BJ."

I'm the entire house that reeks of Fabreeze, burnt Brussel sprouts, and sweaty children.

I'm enjoying my siblings and in-laws as we gather at my deceased parent's home where I now live. We're all well into our adult hood.

We gossip, laugh, endure a few tension-filled moments based upon a negative remark, or mood, and then decide on our minds that we're over it than go back to visiting.

We eat all the fat, sugar, salt, gluten, processed chemicals that we can stuff into our mouths, then divide up the leftovers and we each leave for our respective homes.

That no children or young adults are present is sublime.

Right on cue, and in keeping with tradition, delusional Uncle Bottom makes his annual appearance in the Thanksgiving thread @ R183.

Aw, poor R186, who doesn't understand what fiction and "making shit up" are.

To say nothing, r187, of "Let's be..."

I’m creamed onions

Poor, R187 doesn't understand that calling out Uncle Bottom every TG is also a time honored DL tradition.

I'm the nasty fight with a flight attendant complete with shoving, that erupts from a dirtbag passenger six rows ahead of you on your already delayed flight Wednesday - the busiest travel day of the year. Your flight is now being re-routed to remove the unruly passenger. The fat bitch across the aisle from you won't shut up about how her Thanksgiving has been ruined.

There are two crying infants on board.

[quote] I’m creamed onions

I think you meant creamed-on onions. The pie got old.

I'm Christmas dinner, and I'm coming for YOU!

I'm the steak and pasta that I always crave the day after Thanksgiving.

I'm the local bar in your small hometown. I host a defacto high school reunion the night before Thanksgiving for all the college kids. I am the source of Thanksgiving day regrets ranging from cheap hangovers to panicked searches for a pharmacy stocked with Plan B.

lol, so true, r195

I'm the dread. Before, during and even after.

There should be a version of Boxing Day for Thanksgiving. Maybe there is but just not recognized. Leftovers Day? Where just you, your main squeeze and MAYBE a couple of good friends.....maybe. Where you just eat and drink, get fucked up in a good way, and watch your favorite shows. THAT is my kind of Thanksgiving

He will be murdered by cheap whore. Mark my words.

I am the cream that was over-whipped and thus unusable. I am given to the three excited cats who gobble it up. Soon there will be three identical pools of kitty vomit on the kitchen floor.

I am your neurotic, passive-aggressive cat who hates all of your friends. I will coo them and then turn psycho-kitty with my claws. You will find my personal gift tonight on your bed pillow for reasons you know well.

I’m the bipolar aunt who storms off with the turkey at 5 o clock after all the stores have closed. Dinner was for 12.

We're the family of racoons waiting patiently for stoner son Justin to fail (again) at his one job: To close the lid on the can after he takes out the dinner trash.

I’m not giving you any leftovers

I'm the geeky, closeted gay teen who manages to slip into the bathroom with my hot jock out-of-town cousin and give him a blow job. See you at Christmas!

I'm the big movie on TCM, Turkey Parade, starring Judy Garland, Fred Astaire, Ann Miller and Lassie.

I'm the rogue balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I'm outta here.

I'm the greasy wishbone that splinters everywhere on the dinner table when two tubby children fight over pulling me apart. Spoiler, they were both wishing for seconds of dessert.

I’m the thanksgiving slut

[quote]R208: I’m the thanksgiving slut

Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

racoons

Oh, fucking dear.

R209 At least the Thanksgiving slut is getting some, unlike you.

I'm your cousin whose boyfriend picked up Hep A but doesn't understand his symptoms yet. I'm planning to break up with him after the holidays because I know he's giving me some amazing gifts, and I want to cash in for letting him butt fuck me those times.

Nana, her sister Tante Kilternhoffer, Uncle Bill's brother Bob and Cousin Ted's twin baby girls will not be around to attend next Thanksgiving's family gathering, and two people will be waiting for liver transplants, all owing to my boyfriend's bad toilet habits and loving to help in the kitchen, especially with those leftovers left on the counter for so long.

I never caught the Hep from him because I'm the one that gave it to him in the first place. Shhh....

^Uh, what?

I bought cranberry sauce at Trader Joe’s this year. $2.48 and it comes in a jar. Delicious. Went back and bought four more is case they discontinue after TG. Also, the vegan turkey loaf with stuffing and gravy is to die four. I bought four and put them in my freezer.

I’m thankful that Liat found peace and joy taking antidepressants through Hers

I am cousin Marj. I came to the Thanksgiving dinner with four empty containers so that I can take lots and lots of leftovers home. I have no shame. I am taking enough food home to have dinner for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and lunch on Monday at work. And no, I did not bring anything to the dinner, other than my appetite.

I'm the "weird" stuffing that your stepparent makes.

I'm my fat frau sister who decided a week before TG that she wanted to take a break this year and only celebrate with "her family" (her p-whipped hubby, glum, mommy-fixated daughters and loser son-in-law), leaving our elderly parents adrift.

She'll put out name cards and they'll all sit in their never-used dining room and use her expensive china for the poorly cooked meal and wine glasses for Diet Dr. Pepper and I hope she someday realizes that TG can be about the spirit of generosity and not about passive aggression.

Crack cocaine

I'm the kids' table. You know you miss me.

[quote]The one who moved abroad and is never at home for Thanksgiving

Wow. Yet, Frau sister is the one who doesn't respect the "spirit of Thanksgiving" and is "leaving your elderly parents adrift".

I’m the host secretly thrilled that I can no longer host my extended family of in laws because my partner has come down with Covid.

I'm my family Thanksgivings through my college years where we went to my grandmother's house. Grandma had very good taste. We'd have a delicious Thanksgiving dinner, and thank God no fucking green bean casserole on her table. My football-fixated father would say, "Just a minute," to my grandmother's announcement that dinner was served as he watched the nine millionth football game of the day. She would determinedly go to the living room, shut off the TV and unplug it, then turn to my father and say, "Maybe you didn't hear me. I said dinner is served." He would quietly get up and head to the table. We all miss that woman so much.

I’m home at 1:00 pm. I left immediately after the fight at the table started.

I'm the leftovers that everyone knows taste better the next day.

One year, they're going to wise up, cook the dinner, stick it in the fridge, and eat it the next day on paper plates, when all the dishes and pots and pans are washed and they can all relax and enjoy the food.

This has been floating around the Internet.

^^Isn’t that called spic?

Aspic

A spic? Oh asspic

sounds like the bitch apple did not fall far from the bitch tree

I'm the chalky underrate to the chocolate mousse served as dessert.

I’m a bitch

^^*undertaste (not underrate)

Fucking autocorrect.

R231

I'm the flop sweats from the Black Friday fever starting to affect all the fraus.

I'm the last pumpkin pie in town, at the 5th store you've driven to today, because you had one job.

My dubious sell-by date sticker is removable.

I'm the buttplug worn throughout by uncle lester

I’m the dark meat.

I was brought as a surprise by Cousin Kayden.

Everyone is making loud, stilted non-political statements to the room at large in response.

“THE CHAIR RAIL IS LOOKING WEATHERED DONT YOU ALL THINK IT’S LOOKING WEATHERED I THINK I MAY PAINT IT YES”

I'm the guest who one of the mids brought home from university for Thanksgiving because otherwise I would have been alone for the holiday.

When I use the upstairs loo, I'll go through the medicine cabinet to see if there's anything "useful" that I should remove. Ditto any jewellery you've been stupid enough to leave scattered on the dressers of any upstairs bedrooms.

Many thanks, Mrs Ingpen-Stowe, for inviting me to your lovely home. It was so kind, and the food was delicious!

I'm the bed upon which everyone has tossed their coats. One of them has brought in bed bugs.

I just sent a text to my next door neighbor, inviting her to my home tomorrow for Thanksgiving. She replied “fuck you”.

I am the 20 lbs bird that was made to feed a family of 4

Plenty for sandwiches on Friday, r241, and soup after that.

Well I went to the grocery store yesterday and there were cans and cans of cranberry sauce.

I the Good Samaritan who buys a turkey sub at the gas station for the homeless man, who then chucks it at the Samaritan's back as he walks away.

I AM THANKSGIVING, 1954. IT WENT SOUTH AFTER I FOUND MY FIRST GRAY HAIR.

I’m the intense hangover many are working on right this very moment, since they are dreading tomorrow. I’ll only make matters worse.

I’m all the leftover food. Could you ship it here?

I'm Aunt Irene at the Thanksgiving table at the five-year-full-family get-together from around the world, and as I begin to say grace I screech, profoundly mess, and die of a sudden heart attack before my face hits the soup plate.

I'm "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles".

I'm the best Thanksgiving movie...ever...

"I want a fucking car right...fucking...now!"

I'm the manager of the local Kroger. The District Manager dumped a shitload of King's Hawaiian rolls on me yesterday. We know have six displays filled with packages. We also have a dozen boxes we have not even opened sitting in front of the deli counter. It's 3PM on Thanksgiving Eve and there is a huge throng of seven people in my store. Good fucking call Richard.

I'm the declined invitations and pile of phony excuses that exempts me from attending these events. I don't want to eat your crappy food, listen to your boring conversation, and be stuck in your home hours more than I have to. No one will ever question you if you claim a migraine or sinus headache at the last minute.

Good luck. I couldn’t find half of my Thanksgiving items 3 days before Thanksgiving.

R249

Yes.

I'm that movie, Plymouth Adventure, where Spencer Tracy plays the bitter, angry captain of the Mayflower, taking those pious Pilgrims to the New World

And I'm Robert Osborne, introducing the film on TCM

I’m the kid who got dropped off at the end of the driveway, and my parents didn’t get out of the car. They know there’s lots of responsible family to look after me. The whole long weekend. Mom and dad are laughing, because they’re going on a big drunk.

I'm the common sense gay son, zooming my attendance from the comfort of my sofa. I'm not traveling, cooking, or wearing pants.

I'm the happiest family member today.

I’m missy sissyboodles getting extra treats.

[quote] I the Good Samaritan who buys a turkey sub at the gas station for the homeless man, who then chucks it at the Samaritan's back as he walks away.

One year, I was taking my early morning walk on the day before Thanksgiving and passed a church in a poor neighborhood. Two shabby looking guys were sitting at the top of the porch stairs and one said to the other: "Yeah, lunch today is here, then dinner's at the mission, and tomorrow's all day at the Salvation Army -- but I'm already getting turkeyed out".'

[quote] I'm that movie, Plymouth Adventure

Is that the one where the ship turns upside down? I think that's more of a Christmas/New Year's Eve movie.

You get the fuck out of my house! You son of a bitch you!

Happy Thanksgiving DL!

R260 No, it is not.