In the USA, Thanksgiving weekends are a strange mixture of interpersonal dismay and caloric overload.
While it is dreadful to attend one of these annual fiascoes, it is even worse for the hosts.
In addition to overseeing the cholesterol festival, Thanksgiving hosts also have to cope with:
sniveling kids
whining teens
sickly babies
crying babies
right-wing nut-jobs
hypochondriac aunts
ailing oldsters
Face it, everyone at the party has to survive a squabbling squad of peculiar relations, many of whom are none too bright and apparently always eager to prove it.
All of which demonstrates why Merlot was invented. And weed.
I'll show myself out.
Excerpted from the collection, Your Panties are Broadcasting on my Frequency.