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Let's be a gay Thanksgiving

I'm the argument over whether to use Fiesta ware or your partner's vintage china for the place settings.

I'm still hanging in the air when the guests arrive.

by Anonymousreply 88November 26, 2022 8:55 AM

I'm the cranberry juice already poured into your ex's wine glass who just got his 90-day coin for abstinence.

Currently, I'm chilling in the fridge and will be brought out discretely when the Beaujolais is uncorked.

by Anonymousreply 1November 20, 2022 5:20 AM

I'm the Thanksgiving turkey from a Martha Stewart recipe. I'm needlessly fussy and time consuming and the end result tastes like every other bland, gamey turkey out there.

But Greg will shed tears if I'm presented without the requisite awe from the other guests.

by Anonymousreply 2November 20, 2022 6:00 AM

I'm gin and regret.

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by Anonymousreply 3November 20, 2022 3:03 PM

I’m alcohol, pot and broken diets.

by Anonymousreply 4November 20, 2022 7:15 PM

I'm the Black Friday overspend.

by Anonymousreply 5November 24, 2022 12:08 PM

I'm the "corn, when did I eat corn" joke said by an eldergay at the dinner table.

by Anonymousreply 6November 24, 2022 12:11 PM

This shit is tedious. It's a gay board, and yet they allow gay bashing?

I wonder at Muriel who shuts down celeb' threads but considers this ok? It's not funny anymore, and particularly when we're being attacked politically and socially. It's becoming harder and harder when the humor they keep citing is nothing but. It's boring, divisive and mean.

by Anonymousreply 7November 24, 2022 12:12 PM


by Anonymousreply 8November 24, 2022 12:14 PM

I’m the fabulous carrot cake. My owner took great pains to make me but has no idea how to bake. I’ll sit around. The good thing though is that I’ll get to hear all the conversations until I go in the garbage after the guests leave.

by Anonymousreply 9November 24, 2022 12:16 PM

I'm Tom the turkey.

I've had sufficient of this queen trying to put her hand up my ass.

by Anonymousreply 10November 24, 2022 12:20 PM

I’m the 15th iteration of this singularly wit free thread.

by Anonymousreply 11November 24, 2022 12:20 PM


Not meant to be a gay-bashing thread, rather a gentle look at some of our foibles.

The Lesbian Thanksgiving thread has about 300 responses so I thought this would be OK. Lighten up!

by Anonymousreply 12November 24, 2022 12:25 PM


Are you part of the problem or part of the solution?

by Anonymousreply 13November 24, 2022 12:25 PM

For a lot of us, a real Thanksgiving means sitting at home alone trying not to be upset that no one invited us over.

by Anonymousreply 14November 24, 2022 12:29 PM

Life's a banquet, and most poor fools are STARVING!

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by Anonymousreply 15November 24, 2022 12:34 PM

I'm the whipped cream. If I'm hand- or machine-whipped, the boys will talk about how naughty they are when they take a dollop of me on the pumpkin pie. If I'm from a can, there will be sex jokes at my expense.

by Anonymousreply 16November 24, 2022 12:46 PM

R14, you’re welcome to come over to my place. It’s just me and my two cats, well three really, but Snoopy isn’t a fan of company so he’ll be hiding.

by Anonymousreply 17November 24, 2022 12:46 PM

Awww, R17 is sweet. Get over to his house tomorrow, R14.

by Anonymousreply 18November 24, 2022 1:08 PM

R7 and R11 we're the bone-crushingly boring guests who know how to really ruin a good time.

by Anonymousreply 19November 24, 2022 1:25 PM

I’m the turkey breast that your boyfriend shot his load into ‘just to see if anyone notices’

by Anonymousreply 20November 24, 2022 1:36 PM

I'm the vicious slap for confusing parsley with cilantro.

by Anonymousreply 21November 24, 2022 1:50 PM

i’m a penis

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by Anonymousreply 22November 24, 2022 2:16 PM

I am the weird fact that Gay Thanksgiving threads are less funny than Lesbian Thanksgiving threads.

by Anonymousreply 23November 24, 2022 2:33 PM

Oh my, who would advocate using Fiestaware at Thanksgiving?!

by Anonymousreply 24November 24, 2022 3:56 PM

Odd, innit?

by Anonymousreply 25November 24, 2022 4:13 PM

[quote]Oh my, who would advocate using Fiestaware at Thanksgiving?!

True. For me, it’s Dixie or nuthin.

What? I ain’t doin dishes later.

by Anonymousreply 26November 24, 2022 4:15 PM

More foods look good on turquoise plates, i.e., Fiestaware, than on any other color plate than white. And I hate white.

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by Anonymousreply 27November 24, 2022 4:17 PM

I'm crystal meth.

by Anonymousreply 28November 24, 2022 4:20 PM

I’m the humourless dykes and hagfags in this thread screeching, because they have been brainwashed by woke ideologues, are developing schizophrenia, and think anything outside of gushing praise is a violent act.

by Anonymousreply 29November 24, 2022 4:22 PM

I’m the lingering pain of holidays past. Experienced before I gave myself permission to not go home.

by Anonymousreply 30November 24, 2022 4:24 PM

I’m the trashy Yassss Kween who will try to control the playlist when Christmas music is put on after dinner. I have to hear Ariana Grande and her feminine Diva ilk constantly, as I’m allergic to anything remotely masculine. I almost had a seizure when the host last year played ‘Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ by Gene Autry. Hurry, someone put on ‘My Only Wish (This Year)’ by Britney before I pass out!

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by Anonymousreply 31November 24, 2022 4:31 PM

I'm the FAT gay guys over 40 who live for the holidays.

by Anonymousreply 32November 24, 2022 4:31 PM

R17 Thank you for the invitation! Maybe next year.

by Anonymousreply 33November 24, 2022 4:47 PM

I’m the store bought cupcakes that everybody will be talking about tomorrow. I have ruined many dinner parties and will likely get my bearer shunned from future gatherings.

by Anonymousreply 34November 24, 2022 4:49 PM

*waves at r32*

by Anonymousreply 35November 24, 2022 4:51 PM

I’m the debate over herb stuffing vs sausage stuffing

by Anonymousreply 36November 24, 2022 4:52 PM

I’m the corporate-climbing gay who bought a latticed blueberry-rhubarb pie at the bakery on the corner, put it in my own food storage container and passed it off as my grandmother’s recipe. There are suspicions building, which will peak after many cocktails.

“Everything about you is fake, Rob! Everything!”

by Anonymousreply 37November 24, 2022 4:53 PM

I’m the table so overloaded with floral arrangements, turkey tchotchke, candles, gourds and unnecessary stemware there is no place to put the fucking food.

by Anonymousreply 38November 24, 2022 4:53 PM

I’m Rob.

by Anonymousreply 39November 24, 2022 4:55 PM

R38 I’m the elaborate descriptions of the tchotchkes.

“That’s a Fred Olsen pottery piece we picked up in Palm Springs. We were staying at the Parker for a week and had rented a beautiful BMW, so we were driving around and spotted this quaint pottery shop. We walked in and the piece just called to me, it was love at first sight.”

by Anonymousreply 40November 24, 2022 5:01 PM

R27 that pic looks like we’re sitting down to Wednesday night dinner in 1990 Florida.

by Anonymousreply 41November 24, 2022 5:20 PM

R40 My god, you nailed me. I'll never be able to do that again. I'd always thought friends were interested in knowing where I got everything.

by Anonymousreply 42November 24, 2022 7:09 PM

It’s a teasing thread, r42. Don’t change because we were busting your hump. You’re fun and so are your stories.

by Anonymousreply 43November 24, 2022 7:17 PM

I'm the service at MCC. It went late and so Thanksgiving was ruined.

by Anonymousreply 44November 24, 2022 7:25 PM

R7 Miss Prisspot

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by Anonymousreply 45November 24, 2022 7:29 PM

I'm a the adulterous handjob Bob gives to Chris in the guest bathroom

by Anonymousreply 46November 24, 2022 7:38 PM

This is the perfect Datalounge gay Thanksgiving

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by Anonymousreply 47November 24, 2022 7:39 PM

I'm the guest who makes an exit as soon as the booze runs low....And wonders if the bathhouse is open

by Anonymousreply 48November 24, 2022 7:41 PM

I'm Tyler. I'm Bob's Plus One. I'm a good 20 years younger than everyone else at this gathering. The quality of liquor at this party is two cuts above what's normally available to me. I've already had three drinks and Bob and I arrived only 30 minutes ago. I didn't bring anything to the party, Bob took care of that. (We stopped by the bakery to pick up the pie that Bob ordered.)

by Anonymousreply 49November 24, 2022 7:49 PM

I'm that fucking mariah carey song

by Anonymousreply 50November 24, 2022 7:51 PM

I am the place set for Mother. Not the head of the table, you see, she is old fashioned, but the place of honor. We will be having champagne, because she adores it, cranberries and mandarins, as they are her passion this time of year, and her stuffing recipe, challah. We don't know how many more she has, so we make the effort to the lovely tyrant.

by Anonymousreply 51November 24, 2022 7:55 PM

I'm the line, "What I am Michael is a 32 year old pockmarked jew fairy, and I take a bit of time and I smoke a bit of grass before I show my face to the world, it's nobody's god damned business but my own. . . .and how are you this evening?"

that inevitably comes up

by Anonymousreply 52November 24, 2022 7:56 PM

I smell cunt!

Oh wait, it's just R7

by Anonymousreply 53November 24, 2022 7:56 PM

I’m the mother of a gay adult son, sitting home alone — his choice. Brilliant young man plagued by mental illness. He’s freaked out over recent Colorado shooting. And who wouldn’t be?

Homophobic Rethuglicans and others — may lauren Bobert be tarred and feathered and barbecued very slowly until death in the public square .

My heart breaks for my beloved son No hateful responses please but if you want to you will

by Anonymousreply 54November 24, 2022 7:57 PM

We will set another place of honor, R54.

by Anonymousreply 55November 24, 2022 7:58 PM

R54, honey, do you want me to make you a nice Marguerita?

by Anonymousreply 56November 24, 2022 8:01 PM

I'm Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, I'm the Gay's Superbowl.

by Anonymousreply 57November 24, 2022 8:08 PM

Oh, dear: I'm the Gays' Superbowl.

by Anonymousreply 58November 24, 2022 8:09 PM

I am the three bites of turkey whilst playing with the mashed potatoes in front of me with a fork. Lord knows I cannot have THAT many carbs, as it will destroy my Twinkish figure at age 47.

by Anonymousreply 59November 24, 2022 8:19 PM

I'm the food lectures of Gay Bruce, who doesn't eat carbs and red meat, and Lesbian Lorna, who only eats vegan.

Potatoes? Are. You. Crazy????

It's better for the environment!

by Anonymousreply 60November 24, 2022 8:23 PM

[quote]And wonders if the bathhouse is open

Oh, it is.

I mean, or so I’ve heard. *cough* Only losers would go there on Thanksgiving. But say hello to Paul the clerk for me. He’s always there on Thanksgiving.

Again, I’ve heard.

by Anonymousreply 61November 24, 2022 8:45 PM

I'm the thank-you note -- written by hand with a fountain pen in blue ink on a Crane's cotton bond card -- that will go promptly into the mail on Friday.

by Anonymousreply 62November 24, 2022 8:46 PM

I'm MEN.COM releasing its annual Thanksgiving themed porn clip with a hilarious and outrageous set up.

Offsite Link
by Anonymousreply 63November 24, 2022 9:06 PM

I'm a gay bar at Thanksgiving. Every year, it's the same.

I open at 1 and it's deadly slow all afternoon. My staff and a few regulars have turkey and the fixings.

Then, as if a signal had been sent, hundreds of gays converge on me and in me within minutes of each other, all fleeing from their heteronormative Thanksgiving family dinners as if they are on FIRE.

by Anonymousreply 64November 24, 2022 9:50 PM

I'm the Stouffer's spinach souffle thawed in the microwave and now baking in a Le Creuset au gratin pan in the oven. I will be dusted with parmesan and the host, who is making this for a vegetarian guest, will try to pass this off as homemade. No matter, I'm the best tasting thing on the table.

by Anonymousreply 65November 24, 2022 10:09 PM

[quote]Then, as if a signal had been sent, hundreds of gays converge on me and in me

Ah, have I been there. Good times.

by Anonymousreply 66November 24, 2022 10:56 PM

I'm the eldergay doing a Judy Garland imitation, but no one can tell if it's Bette Davis, Tallulah Bankhead or Katharine Hepburn.

by Anonymousreply 67November 24, 2022 11:03 PM

I’m the inevitable white meat/dark meat joke.

Y’all know I’ll be making my annual appearance. Probably numerous times.

by Anonymousreply 68November 24, 2022 11:35 PM

I'm so sorry, R54.

I know this may not help your pain, but maybe it will help you (and others) understand why so many gay men and lesbians (and BQT+, etc.) struggle with holidays in general and attacks on gay venues so mightily. It was published earlier this week. Sorry, it's kind of a long read, but worth it. It left me in tears, but in a cathartic way. Peace to you.

This Holiday, I’m Going to a Gay Bar By Lauren Hough Ms. Hough is an essayist and the author of “Leaving Isn’t the Hardest Thing.”

They tell us not to flaunt it. They tell us to not shove it in their faces. They tell us not to talk about it. They tell us everything would be fine if we’d just keep it behind closed doors. They tell us these things during Thanksgiving dinner, at Christmas after the kids have opened their gifts, while the game is on and we wanted to try to talk, to explain, to give them a chance to see us, to love us. We don’t want to give up just yet.

When I heard the news about the shooting at Club Q, an L.G.B.T.Q. nightclub in Colorado Springs, I couldn’t help but think of the rhetoric spewed by those like James Dobson.

We know what we’re up against. We heard it growing up, in church and at home. We heard the words they use in polite company — about loving the sinner and hating the sin. We heard the words they used when they’d been listening to Christian radio or their actual minister or Rush Limbaugh or Fox News, about abominations and predators in bathrooms and groomers on the internet, and the words they use when they’ve had one too many, the names they call those who could be our friends, who could be us.

Those words we heard and were taught and were forced to read, a whole lot of those words came out of Colorado Springs, the headquarters of Focus on the Family, an evangelical organization whose founder, Mr. Dobson, wrote books exhorting our evangelical parents on how to deal with strong-willed children — corporal punishment, “a little pain goes a long way” — and on how to raise boys to be suitably masculine, who compared homosexuality to pedophilia and who once appeared to offer a solution to fathers whose young daughters had to share a restroom with trans women: “If this had happened 100 years ago, someone might have been shot. Where is today’s manhood? God help us!”

Some of us grew up and escaped to cities where we could feel, if not safe exactly, at least a little less alone. We could find jobs where we didn’t have to hide who we were and tell lies about our “roommate.” We could find friends like us, a new family, to replace one we lost. Some of us stayed home or moved home when things didn’t work out in the city. But that story’s heartwarming only when the main character is a straight executive in a Hallmark movie.

Some of us go home for the holidays, where we are told to keep it behind closed doors. We step outside to walk the dog so they don’t see our tears. We call our friends back in the city. Our brother steps out onto the porch to tell us, when we ask why our family can’t just love us, “It’s all about the baby Jesus,” because he’s the only one who knows how much it hurts. And he’s the only one who can still make us laugh about it.

[more on next page]

by Anonymousreply 69November 24, 2022 11:49 PM

Later on, when the kids are sleeping, when Mom wants to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life,” some of us head to the bar. We don’t need to know anyone there. We don’t need anyone to tag along. We don’t need to know if it’s a dance night or a drag show. We’ll be all right.

Just as soon as we walk through those doors, past the bouncer checking IDs, up to the bar, where the impossibly cute bartender nods to let us know he’s seen us. He did see us. Someone finally did. It’s been a while. This is where we’re safe. For many of us, it’s the only place. They told us it would be OK, behind those closed doors. They’d leave us alone.

Often there’s a drag show, a fund-raiser for a homeless shelter for the queer kids whose parents listened to their evangelical leader and threw their children out onto the streets. We’ve heard the panic about drag queens, and it’d be hard to not laugh if we didn’t know the intent behind the manufactured panic. Drag queens talk about sex the way politicians talk about thoughts and prayers and Christians talk about love. Everyone knows they’re full of it. Drag queens are in on the joke.

[more on next page]

by Anonymousreply 70November 24, 2022 11:50 PM

If you’ve ever been to a gay bar on a holiday or ever worked at a gay bar during a holiday, and I have, you get to watch the transformation of every person who walks through those doors: the unwinding of jaw muscles and shoulders, hips that start to roll about halfway across the room, the tone of voice that changes between the front door and the bar. You watch people become themselves as they throw back that first shot, the medicinal shot, then find immediate friends down the bar or out on the patio. It’s as beautiful as it is tragic.

It’s tragic because they were never going to leave us alone. No matter how quiet we kept it, no matter how much we hid it in front of them. The police came into our houses and dragged us out in handcuffs, printed the mug shots in the paper so our bosses and families and neighbors would know what they had told us to keep secret. The military harassed us and threatened us and threw us out, even though it said it wouldn’t ask if we didn’t tell.

They don’t want us to feel safe. They don’t want us to be safe.

Joshua Thurman, in a tearful interview shortly after he survived the shooting last weekend, asked, “Where are we supposed to go?”

The Stonewall riots began because they were lying then, too, when they told us to keep it behind closed doors. So we came out into the streets. We fought back. We fought back Saturday night, too. It was club patrons who stopped the gunman, who threw him to the ground and subdued him until the police arrived, and when they arrived, they placed handcuffs on one of those patrons, who said later that the police locked him in a police car, briefly preventing him from tending to his family members.

The police, as an institution, were not built to protect queer people, not when politicians fearmonger about drag queens and bathrooms to rally an evangelical base.

We protect ourselves. We’ll fight for our own. We always have. We’ll mourn. We’ll raise money. We’ll organize. And we’ll keep fighting, until all of us are safe, everywhere.

But tonight, I’m going to a gay bar. Maybe there’ll be a drag show.


by Anonymousreply 71November 24, 2022 11:51 PM

Bitch all day long bitch all night long

by Anonymousreply 72November 24, 2022 11:54 PM

[quote]I'm a the adulterous handjob Bob gives to Chris in the guest bathroom

I'm actually the blow job Bob gave Chris in the guest bathroom, but I'm pretending to be a handjob to calm Chris' partner, Trevor. Trevor has been planning today for a month, he is tense, he wants to be married, not partnered, and now that fucking slut Bob, who he didn't even want to invite, has turned my Martha Stewart Thanksgiving into a Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf Thanksgiving and I'm trying really hard right now not to cry.

by Anonymousreply 73November 24, 2022 11:59 PM

Silly Dataloungers, real gays don't eat in excess...

by Anonymousreply 74November 25, 2022 2:01 AM

I'm the perfect outfit for the occasion, the glamorous caftan.

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by Anonymousreply 75November 25, 2022 2:20 AM

I'm vests.

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by Anonymousreply 76November 25, 2022 4:29 AM

I am Greg, conveniently absent from the Thanksgiving recipe discussion. It is because I am a Boris.

by Anonymousreply 77November 25, 2022 5:14 AM

I don't know that Greg is a Boris, but he's certainly a bore-us.

by Anonymousreply 78November 25, 2022 7:02 AM

Argue over which brother had a cuter sweater!

by Anonymousreply 79November 25, 2022 7:11 AM

I'm the caftans and earrings!

by Anonymousreply 80November 25, 2022 3:15 PM

I’m the sensation of overpowering condescension as it dawns on you the cranberry sauce came out of a tin.

by Anonymousreply 81November 25, 2022 3:48 PM

I’m the sensation of overpowering lust as it dawns on you that the buttplug is still in

by Anonymousreply 82November 25, 2022 4:19 PM

Don’t fart, you’ll kill the cat.

by Anonymousreply 83November 25, 2022 4:28 PM

I'm the special can of turkey dog food the bichon frise "Judy" is getting.

I'm more expensive per ounce than anything on the table.

by Anonymousreply 84November 25, 2022 5:34 PM

I'm the disappointed wife of a friend who assumes all gay men are skilled at cooking and decorating. The host is barbecuing the turkey on the grill and handed out cans of beer as we came in. There's a huge TV screen in the backyard for football games. This is not what I expected.

by Anonymousreply 85November 25, 2022 7:44 PM

I'm the six surrogate babies at the table in high chairs taking up all the attention as the trickle cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and smashed up turkey down their bibs.

It's impossible to have an adult conversation under these circumstances.

by Anonymousreply 86November 25, 2022 8:05 PM

I'm continuing my Feng Shui repositioning of all objects and furnishings throughout our apartment to ensure absolutely perfect and satellites-aligned placement throughout, even after our guests have arrived, started to eat, and attempted to try to communicate with me in some way.

by Anonymousreply 87November 26, 2022 5:08 AM

At precisely four o'clock the phone rings and everyone falls silent. Who calls a landline these days? It can only be your mother, calling from the care facility a few states over.

Mom likes to talk so it's 20 minutes till the meal resumes. And never quite recovers.

by Anonymousreply 88November 26, 2022 8:55 AM
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