Apparently I am the one who demands all of the delicious food at my family’s Thanksgiving. Because this year, I am a minion at my new job and cannot make it home, and you know what they’re having. Mashed potatoes and turkey. And that’s basically it. You know, my mom might make some rolls. They’ll probably be a pie, if somebody else picks it up this year.
Along with the pie, here are some well-cherished Thanksgiving traditions that will be lacking without my guidance:
My siblings will be able to play both video games and piano without my neediness insisting that they allow me to exercise my ability to suck at both activities. They will, however, miss the musical education that is me playing whatever playlist I’m currently stuck on for hours on end.
My cat will not get a bath.
My parents (who are uber supportive and very much loved) cannot be mildly bothered by my latest “gay” apparel, which in this case is a hat reading “Make the Yuletide Gay.” (Don’t worry, I will wear it for all of Christmas.)
I will miss whatever Eric is thankful for this year (which is rarely appropriate).
I will not be able to give my sister the matching underwear I bought for the two of us.
The motto of Thanksgiving will not be, “Thanksgiving 2012: Our Farts Never Smelled Better” as I may have insisted it be were I there.