Friday, November 16, 2012
Giving Thanks, Dammit!
Yep, this is like Easter, and I'm still egg hunting, y'all! I'm 25 years old and have never made a dish to bring to Thanksgiving. I had a feeling this was about to change; this year my family has suggested I bring a dish. And I thought they loved me. I don't even want to go to Thanksgiving now, eating all the glorious food is, in a way, not even worth the effort I'd have to put towards making a stupid dish or gravy. That's right, I'm being a spoiled, food-eating, non-dish-making brat right now and I can't say it's my proudest moment. I'd rather order pizza, but they are closed. I could just forget the food or say I burnt it and come in all red faced from crying, I could just move away and never look back. This is young adult abuse.
I feel like there are unwritten rules for Thanksgiving. First, I should always have food or a drink in my hand, just a given, really. Next, If I don't bear children, I shouldn't have to cook a damn thing, ever. I mean, how am I suppose to cook when I don't have kids to carry the stuff to the car? Seems like a lot of work for a single person, yanno? On top of that, I'm not even bringing a date to Thanksgiving? So, why should I bring food? It's just me eating, I EAT CORN, A HANDFUL OF CORN. Another thing? I don't know how to cook. I mean this should just be the biggest red flag, you know the family members that wait on this junk, the ones that volunteer to stay up until odd hours in the night and cook ten dishes. Then there's Amber, you know the niece that eats Taco Bell three days a week? Not exactly recording shows on The Food Network, I don't even own a DVR or a recipe book or a mixer, I literally only know how to work a coffee maker and that is a feat at 6 A.M.; DID I MENTION I'M POOR? I'm poor, because I have been buying myself all the things: scarves, sweaters, watches, gourmet coffee; I feel like everything costs more in the winter because it's all made of thick fabrics and knit and junk. This all boils down to one thing: [not so secret] Single Behavior.
Also, if I am boozing it up with Uncle Duck, how am I suppose to clean my dish before I take it home (lets get real, I don't even have a fancy bowl to put anything in anyways)? Uncle and I don't even get along, this is the one time we interact throughout the year, LET ME WATCH NASCAR WITH MY DRUNK UNC IN PEACE. Family should just spend this time talking about me in the opposite room, asking my mom about my love life, as she cries saying "she's never gonna give me gramm babbies," not calling me to suggest dishes I should bring to Thanksgiving. This is unforgivable.