So, I'm sure there are thousands of you clamoring for the results of my "Brother-in-law's fiancées parent's house Thanksgiving spectacular." Like literally thousands. Believe me, I know, I have the best words.
Rewind to this morning. As advertised, my Dad comes over and feeds the kids doughnuts (proper spelling, huge education points for me) which allowed for the sugar rush to kick in right as they left for the day. He stayed for the typical thirty minutes, surprisingly didn't rip any heaters - maybe he's quitting smoking (lol absolutely not). He brought my wife flowers (classy move) and spent time bullshitting about how he doesn't give a fuck about Thanksgiving at all. Great time.
Dad appearance grade: A+
Then, just as he left, huge development. Wife unit has "kidney pain" and her, "back is on fire." Spoiler: this is a MAJOR typical move. Anytime there is a family event where it involves uncomfortable banter, a new place, or something she doesn't particularly want to attend - kidney flare up. Although, this one seemed real. I'm sure they all are to tell you the truth, I honestly just think they're connected. Her brain is like, "Hey, internal organs, make sure one of those kidney stones gets jarred loose and scrapes the side of that kidney wall, ok?"
This threw an immediate wrench in the timing of the day. Step one was to call her father for any drugs he may have left over to ease the pain from his one of many kidney stone passing events. Negative.
Step two: sift through magical cabinet of drugs and such to find old medicine that will block all nerve pain from previous medical procedures. Huge win: we have happy pills. And now we watch as the wife gets, as she LOVES to say as if she invented the phrase, "high as a kite."
Fast forward to us leaving the house. We need tampons because the period has arrived. On Thanksgiving.
We also need flowers to bring to this godforsaken place because we can pretend we care. Wife confirmed on Wednesday that grocery stores will be open until 2pm. Blatant false narrative. They're closed. Flowers are out.
Head over to CVS for female blood absorption sticks. They don't have anything worth bringing to these people. No flowers. Just those tiny baby tree bushes covered in glitter. Head back home, thank god the personal basement bar has wine, steal some from the collection that we never drink, place in Amazon bag that we save from getting gifts, tie it up, and boom, we pretended we care successfully. Bonus points - parked in "expecting mother/mother with infant" spot at CVS because it doesn't specify exactly when I EXPECT to have another kid. But I can expect it in the future.
Kidney stone/tampon trip/flower debacle: C+
PS - the CVS cashier was IN LOVE with my act. I eye-rolled at least 5 times in the store and she noticed it all. She also asked why I was so pissed on Thanksgiving so I did a short synopsis of the last blog, and she passed away in laughter.
We get to this place in the middle of asshole whatever town trash-ville USA. Very nice 1990's development off the highway in the back of some massive dentist office and a High School. Everyone is already there, since none of them had to purchase tampons, find drugs that make today's events tolerable, and scramble for some gift that they'll never use.
Immediate ask that my shoes be taken off - from left field I pull out a bag with my slippers and hers. Family is so impressed they gobble my cock instantly and praise me for my preparedness. I'm no fool, I'm not stepping all over your cold ass tile floors with my paper thin socks and freeze my tits off all day. No fucking way.
Immediately I see friendly faces as I push through the gauntlet of people I have to smile and make eye contact with. "In-Laws" as I call them are waving me over. We exchange the typical pleasantries, obtain beer, and am shown where the TV is located. Immediately my brother in law's new...well...brother-in-law asks if I have action on the game. Claims he lost $500 on the Celtics last night, bullshit +7 line on the C's, and he needed to make it up the the Bears at -4.5 versus the Lions. I like this kid.
First impression grade: B-
So, I guess you could say it's going well.
The food turned out to be good. Very well done. No nuts in anything to speak of for the main course. (I'm not allergic to nuts or any of that pussy shit, I just hate when people put fruit and nuts into salads and stuffing as if they're fucking Gordon Ramsey). There was even ham in addition to the traditional turkey. To top it all off, THREE different types of cranberry sauce. Amazing effort and no ethnic non-traditional shit whatsoever. I'm not racist, I just demand certain food on Thanksgiving. I don't eat any of this shit all year, so, I look forward to it.
Dessert was offerings were: Pumpkin Pie, Pecan Pie (gross, go fuck yourself AGAIN WHAT IS THE OBSESSION WITH NUTS?), cake, ice cream, cool whip, and apple pie. I demolished the cake, pumpkin, and apple pie(s).
Post dessert, all the males retreated to the family room to foam at the mouth over Colt McCoy's pants pooping versus the Cowboys in Jerry's World. We even witnessed the saddest, most selfish PR move by the Salvation Army, paying Elliott ONCE AGAIN to throw cash into the kettle as if it's a cheap Dallas stripper performing at the Leggs and Eggs breakfast special at Club Alex.
Also, side note. I don't condone 1950's era male/female gender roles. But these people were born in the 1950's and 1960's. Women doing the dishes is what happens, OK? I wasn't about to offer to help, considering I'm the only asshole that does the dishes in my own home, and I deserve a goddamn break. Doing dishes is complete bullshit and the amount of food my wife cooks is INSANE. I FUCKING DETEST dishes. Huge props to me for reversing gender roles in my own home in modern-day America. I deserve a statue in my town for my efforts.
I especially love how Joe Buck, in his infinite wisdom between hits of his in-booth crack pipe, called this a donation to the, "Red Cross."
Alternate family Thanksgiving grade: B+
Overall, a great experience. I appreciated the football, food, and lack of gas my body exhibited during our visit. I guess that was passed to others, considering my brother-in-law's wife to be was clearly upstairs before dessert taking a post meal steamship authority and was immediately greeted with the, "Where were you? We were waiting for you?" as the entire room stared at her.
Sure, it was colder than the attitude I give cold-callers on the phone today, but I was pleasantly surprised how prepared these people were for my arrival. I also forgot how much I especially enjoy older men try and make comments about NFL teams they're entirely unfamiliar with by undervaluing Chase Daniel's ability as a quality backup for the Chicago Bears. Ditka. Polish Sausage.
And yes, I made it home in time for the 8:20 Saints vs. Falcons "Barn Burner" turned sob story of Atlanta's season going down the tubes. Calvin Ridley really owes me one.
Although it wasn't easy. On our way home, an immediate, "I will shit this car and ruin the leather interior if you don't drive faster" comment. Cue the drunk guy smashing into the exit 5 sign on route 93 causing a 1/2 hour delay. We can get into how retarded it is that EVERY DRIVER absolutely NEEDS to brake and stare at the trooper pulling the guy from the wreckage. This also brings up my very valid argument for the invention of toilet car.
Happy Day Before Decorating for Christmas. We're going to have the hap-hap happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny fucking Kaye.