Happy Thanksgiving, the holiday when we pretend to be thankful for everything we take for granted…
“OH, HOW BLESSED I AM!”
Here’s what I’m “thankful” for this year.
Also known as the chore demander. The person that turns our day of rests (Saturday and Sunday) into hours-long endeavors of shopping, house cleaning, fixing crap she broke, and hanging pictures.
In the good, ole millennial days, my only weekend chore was video games.
Remind me why I said “I do…”
That thing that doesn’t know how to poop in a toilet, so I have to buy it accessories–a leash, poop bags, and a harness because the chore demander thinks pinch collars are cruel.
And I walk this thing up and down the same street, just so it can sniff the same, old things–that cat, those dogs, that poop that those dogs left. And when it finally poops I walk home.
What is the point of this stupid, cute thing if it can’t care for itself?!
Some of my friends and family members have such beautiful, little “angels” with complete disregard for MY TOYS when they come over.
Oh that $1,200 iMac? Don’t worry kid, you can throw your toys right at it. And how about now you take a heave at my brand new 4K TV!
That is followed by three straight hours of stomping and running around my hardwood floors, and the entire time I’m wishing the kids tire out or just run into a wall just so they’re incapacitated, if not but just for a few minutes.
Now I know why grandpa likes being deaf.
Also known as those people who buy you gifts for your anniversary, and in return all they ask is that you see them once in a while and raise your future children exactly as THEY see fit.
Gotta be honest with you, I’m not a fan of that trade at all. I would sacrifice all the gifts from them just so I can have some freedom from the shackles of parental guilt.
But believe me I know the pros of being friendly with these people. Most of which is using them to babysit my future dipshitty kids when my wife wants to fake an orgasm with me for a night.
Even though I never claimed to have liked them, and even though they taste like cat litter, Aunty keeps making those pies. Luckily, over the years I’ve developed a good strategy against it:
I really “appreciate” that on my company phone I’m sent pictures of my friends with their creative uses of props.
I wonder what my next review will be like.
“We were going to give you a raise, Rel, but speaking of raise… Can you explain these photos of phallic-like objects raising out of your friends’ pants?”
Truthfully, I’m a hypocrite because that last photo was my contribution.
Every year I’m invited to the same dipshitty bar with the same people I tried to avoid for four years in high school. And every single conversation with every one of those former acquaintances starts and ends the same way.
“OH MY GOD! It’s been so long! How are you?!”
“I’m good. So good to see you!”
Followed by an awkward pause….
Outside of family, there’s only a handful of people or animals I should be required to see in this world: wife, dog, best friends, and best friends’ dogs.
If only Ford from Westworld installed me with the software to be blind to former high school and college acquaintances, in laws and children.
“Happy” Thanksgiving, everyone.
This, my 33rd year as a neurotic, OCD, panicky, paranoid, and agoraphobic spec of dust in this universe, has been one of the best ever.
I am truly thankful to live with a wife that tolerates and loves me every day.
I’m thankful for the families, on both my wife’s side and my own, that are supporting and always there for me.
I’m thankful for my closest friends. Those that I am not afraid to disclose the cost of my new 4KTV. Those that will thereafter not spill the beans of that cost to my wife.
I’m thankful for a job with incredible coworkers who are smart, talented, creative, and most of all HARD WORKING.
I’m thankful for living in New England, where our winters are as cold as David Price in the playoffs, and our summers are as hot as Tom Brady every gaaahd damn day of his life, on and off the field.
I’m thankful for the cowriters, editors, and artists who either helped me with my personal projects, or I with theirs… Some of you know how much I love to write. Since my last book I’ve hit that writer’s block, but I’ll shake it off and continue to grind because there is no other way that I know. Ultimately it’s my dream to be a 60-year-old fart one day, and instead of racing to find the time to write in a fit of anxiety I will calmly and lucidly write from the comfort of my freezing home… Freezing because my wife likes turning down the heat ALL THE TIME!
I’m thankful for every day, good or bad, rain or shine, warm or cold, as long as I know another one is coming.
For real this time, Happy Thanksgiving.