Right, so I was going to post a blog about my pets, but the people went to sleep with the camera in their room because it’s the middle of the night, and I have to wait till at least tomorrow to do that. So instead I’m going to talk about Thanksgiving.
For those of you who don’t live here in the good ol’ USA, Thanksgiving is basically an excuse to feast on wickedly good home cooked grub. Now, historians and holiday enthusiasts may tell you Thanksgiving is a day to celebrate the fact that out early settlers managed to con the native peoples into helping our conniving asses make it through the early north eastern winters without freezing to death or running out of food. This is partially true. We did in fact barely make it, but that’s not the best part. Not only did we learn how to survive on local foods, but we did so in such a manner that we quickly blistered forth on this green continent into a massively contagious sore fest which completely obliterated almost any remnants of the original inhabitants.
There are still some left, and they live on reservations in the middle of nowhere. I am not sorry for them. That’s how history works. Look at the black folks over here. I shouldn’t have to apologize to them because my race was hundreds of years more advanced than theirs, and their tribal warlike people sold them as slaves into my peoples hands. It’s not my fault that white people have kicked everyones ass for most of recorded history. If you don’t like it, maybe you should travel back in time and tell your ancestors to stop chucking spears and start reading and writing. Whatever. Now the Indians have peyote, casinos, and they don’t have to pay taxes, so they’re doing at least as good as me. And the black folks aren’t stuck in a third world continent riddled with and AIDS epidemic and non stop civil wars and genocide. So fuck off and kwicher bitchin.
Anywho, we kicked ass and survived, and now we get together with our families to eat ridiculous amounts of food and watch football (american football, not soccer) and drink. I don’t know if Canada celebrates Thanksgiving or not. I would seem like we share some common settlers, butt who knows. You Cannucks do things your own way, and that’s all good in my book.
There are some basics you need to know about having a family Thanksgiving dinner here in America. First off, turkey. You have to have turkey, the bigger the better. And you have to cook that bitch whole. Like a twenty pound turkey would be good. And you have to stuff it with stuffing, which is soggy bread and sausage and sometimes cheese and raisins and beer. Actually, everyone has their own way to make stuffing, but sausage and cheese and beer and soggy bread are a good start in my opinion. and you have to cut it into huge slices and pile heaps of the crap on your plate before you even touch any of the other food. And everyone has to fight over who has to eat dark meat. And there should be one weird fucker there who likes the neck and giblets and gizzard and all that nasty hooplah. Usually you bake your turkey, but some people like to deep fry it. These people usually burn down their homes. Bake it.
After you have your turkey and stuffing established as a small mountain on your plate it’s time for side dishes. Now as Americans, when we get together as a family to feast, we have to have more food than you can eat in one helping. So at this point just grab a little bit of everything from the first half of the line. Around my home this usually means: cranberry sauce, mashed taters, sweet corn casserole, macaroni and cheese, gravy, bread of some sort, and a vegetable like broccoli or asparagus. Pile this as high as you can while still keeping it on your plate. Don’t worry, if your plate is too heavy and breaks, there is plenty more for the next few weeks, you can get a second batch. Now go sit down near whatever relatives you want to kill the least and dig in. Now that you have started shoveling food in your face, wait for your mother or aunt to bitch at you across the house to stop eating until everyone gets served and you all say grace. You don’t really have to close your eyes or bow your head for this. Mostly you just have to wait for one of the older men to somberly talk to his invisible friend for a few minutes, and when he’s done you can really dig in. Anyone who see’s you not participating won’t say shit because … and the survey says: they weren’t participating either, so screw em!
At this point some kids should come up to you and pester you for a few minutes to watch what they can do. Just ignore them, pretty soon their fat pregnant mother will waddle out of the kitchen and start screaming at them to go sit down at the children’s table and finish their plates or they won’t get any dessert. Now you will be accosted with questions from the older women of your tribe. Mostly these will be about why you don’t go to church or college, and why you don’t have a wife. (or husband) Blow these people off with some half assed answers mumbled through your taters and gravy, and hold out for a few more minutes until the men finish their first plates and settle in for the much slower and more intense second helping.
Now when you go up for your second helping there are a few must haves and a whole lot of your relatives crappy (but in their minds, delicious) side dishes. You need ham, duck, and any other meat available. Sometimes this will be pot roast, and some times this will be burgers and dogs, or grilled chicken. Whatever the case, get some of everything. Now you are down to the mediocre filler dishes. Get some slaw, if there is any. And sort of pick through the rest till you’ve got a pretty good, but not huge pile of food on your plate. Now go sit again. The kids and women will have busied themselves with their preferred activities, namely bouncing off the walls in front of the TV, and gossiping. Now you can talk about man things. (if you aren’t a man, you will have to go find a lady blog for the rest of our traditions during dinner, I know not what goes on)
For man time, you will probably get about two to four minutes of conversation in with one of your few cool cousins before your crazy uncle interrupts everyone to speak about his completely insane conspiracies involving the red Chinese taking over the world through sheer numbers, why gays are going to hell first, and whether speaking in tongues is required for getting into heaven or simply just highly suggested. You will not mention his idiocy or point out that he’s fucking crazy enough for a passing deaf, dumb, and blind toddler with cerebral palsy to pick up on the insanity of the entire argument from a distance of fifty paces. Nothing good will come of that, trust me. Also don’t ever say maybe he should try and work out how a condom works before he goes delving into the mysteries of the universe. Once again, shitville for whoever says that.
Now sit through fifteen or twenty minutes of his bull shit before the other men take over again and change the subject to hunting or football or the huge load of fireworks in the car that someone just got from South Carolina. Finish your plate and go out for a smoke and a digestion break. Stay there for half an hour at least. The turkey will be making your relatives slow and lethargic as they sit in the warmth. Use this to your advantage. Try and squeeze as mush food out of your stomach as possible and head back around to the kitchen for the third, but not final, plate of food.
This one is the best: dessert! There should be apple, pecan, minced meat, and pumpkin pie. There may or may not be cake and ice cream. There will definitely be someting made of fudge, something made of peanut butter, and several kinds of cookies, not to mention my mothers cherry cream salad. And if you are lucky, some warm out-of-the-oven cobbler. Georgia peaches are the best for this, but blueberries, blackberries, and cherries work pretty well in a cobbler pinch.
Go find a remote place to very slowly eat your dessert and hang out with your cousins. When you are finished, find something destructive to do. Usually this involves extreme ping pong, something with a dog, archery, firework battles, teaching kids stuff they shouldn’t know, or some combination of flaming material and heights. Continue this activity until someone freaks out and starts yelling or crying. Preferably crying. Now get ready to leave and go get wasted with your friends.
But wait Josh, we can’t leave yet, you said there was another plate of food! Yes indeed I did. Sneak back in amongst the crowd and FULLY load another plate or two with all of your favorites from the night. It works best if you can get several people working in unison to go grab a specific list of similar foods. (I’ll get the sweets, you get the meat, but not the chicken we have that at home, get lots of duck, it’s expensive, and you go grab the sides, but nothing too runny, we have to drive home, and no more mac and cheese, or potatoes, we have those already too, oooh, I almost forgot, get some more of those wicked sausage balls)
And that’s how you celebrate Thanksgiving in my family. It would be good to note that there are also some speeches about giving thanks, several prayers, and possibly songs performed by children who can’t sing worth a shit. I skipped most of that because it’s pretty much just living hell. So this year I’m thankful that I have a four day weekend. I’m thankful I don’t have to stay long. And I’m thankful I get to do it all over again with my girls family, wait what, come on! But see that thanksgiving dinner will be worth it because of the special dessert. If I don’t post again till next week, I’ll say hello to the beach for you.