Holidays kick ass, don't they? What a fantastic concept: a day designed solely to sleep late and party with those closest to you. And though no one works, somehow commerce is at its peak. Why don't we just make every day a holiday?
The best holidays are enjoyed by all even if not celebrated by everybody. I celebrate Christmas, and yet I still totally dig Chanukah (pronounced Ha-Nu-kuh) and Kwanzaa (although I'm still not entirely sure what it is or when it is.). I don't celebrate Easter, but I still enjoy it. Why, you ask? Three Words: Cadbury Cream Eggs. Just typing that sentence made me shutter with anticipation.
Baisakh, Isra' Mi'raj, Shavuot, Grandparents Day, Flying Spaghetti Monsterism Holy Day (check it out on Wikipedia), the list goes on and on. Ummm, 4/20 anybody?
But of all these fine days, one stands out among the rest. If you are foreign or had a very hippy-like upbringing, you might just want to skip the next couple of paragraphs.
THANKSGIVING BABY! What a day it is indeed! It's the ultimate American holiday on so many levels. First of all, people of every creed, color, gender, sexual preference, age and size celebrate together. Republicans and Democrats, Yankees fans and Red Sox fans, everyone gets in there on some turkey action. Frankly, the only Americans who don't get to experience the true essence of Thanksgiving are vegetarians, but who gives a rat's ass about them anyway?
The day consists of events based solely on the true American Dream: overindulgence. I don't know how it is for most of you, but in my house, Thanksgiving means football. The Lions and Cowboys, for some reason dubbed America's teams, play every year, and every year we watch from start to finish, only moving from the couch to pee, and even that only means getting up and walking over to the window, eyes never leaving the screen.
But the real meaning of Thanksgiving is clearly the food: potatoes of all types, stuffing, gravy, veggies galore, even turkeys that look like they're on more juice than Barry Bonds. Seriously, some of the turkeys I've seen on Thanksgiving are almost creepily enormous. There are not six-foot, 150-pound turkeys in the wild. What the hell are they doing to these things?
And then come the pies. Pumpkin pie a la mode topped with whipped cream and a side of apple pie and pecan pie; yeah, that's mah jizzoint. It truly is a day of indulgence. In fact, I read under a Snapple bottle cap the other day that the average American household consumes less than half of the food cooked on Thanksgiving, and yet no person is allowed to leave the dinner table until their belt is unbuckled and their zipper is at least halfway down. That, my friends, is a massive load of food.
On a day so fruitful and fun, how can one not be thankful? Lord knows I am. We should all be thankful for so many things. And so, let me start the thanking on this glorious holiday season.
Thank you, ladies of Chic-Fil-A. While most employees of Duke dining locations are generally unfriendly and bitter, you put a smile on my face every time. Then again, how could one not be happy when they're surrounded by dank nugs and Polynesian sauce all day?
Thank you, Josh McRoberts. You could be riding a bench in the NBA right now, finding comfort in your pimped-out Escalade and your bling. Instead, you're still in Durham, currently fourth on your own team in points and rebounds. Don't you dare make me look stupid for picking you as my player of the year. My mother made me look stupid once. Once.
We can all be thankful to have our health. Although I'm not so sure I even have that. Come to think of it, I live a pretty unhealthy lifestyle. I should do something about it. Well, at least I'm not in the same boat as my buddy abroad in Australia. He took a wicked jimmy tap, and woke up the next morning to find his left testicle was the size of a grape fruit. He decided it would maybe be a good idea to relieve himself while in the shower. Turned out to be a mistake. The usual pleasure was replaced with pain, and the usual white color was replaced with red. Sorry buddy, feel better!
Thank you Tommy. You finally opened your restaurant, and I immediately packed on seven pounds to my ass. Your food is good, but there's a lot of work to be done. For instance, there is no breakfast. Is it that difficult to cook some eggs and bacon with toast? You definitely have all the required ingredients. How 'bout I just pay $10 and you let me go behind the counter and cook it myself. Seriously, it's great to have the restaurant open, but there are many simple changes that can be made. I'd be more than willing to help.
Thank you to my alarm clock for not going off on my ACES registration day. I now currently sit on two waitlists. Seriously, thanks a lot you piece of sh-.
Thank you Durham. You keep me on my toes, and I dig that about you. The fear that strikes me while walking your streets at night is one of those things that makes life worth living.
Thank you to the Pilgrims and Indians.
Thank you Thanksgiving. Without you, I wouldn't be thanking anyone.
Thank you to holidays in general. We love you all.
Now, if we can only find some way to combine Thanksgiving with 4/20.
The Morning Wood is always completely stiff after eating his Thanksgiving feast. Tom Segal is excited to draw on his uncle's face during his annual post-meal power nap. If his shoes are on, he's fair game.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.