Well, the headline pretty much says it all. Basically, I’m a 30-year-old man and I straight up refuse to sit at the kids’ table any longer. I’m a friggen grown up and I deserve to be treated like one.
Honestly, I wouldn’t even be so pissed if there weren’t people YOUNGER THAN ME that already get to sit with the adults. Cousin Josh is only 27 and he’s been at the adult table for four years now. “Oh, Mike, it’s different. He’s in med school.” IT’S NOT DIFFERENT! I might not have gone to medical school but I can still keep up with the conversation! Holding in your pee makes it harder to get an erection later in life. SEE?! That is super good medical advice and also a solid segue into what would be a really interesting dinner conversation. Cause that’s who I am! A conversationalist! My talents are being WASTED at the kids table, which, let’s be honest, is also the LOSER table.
The next closest person to my age at the kids’ table is Cousin Jess who is 15. What on Earth do I have in common with a 15-year-old besides our virginity and mutual bouts of unemployment?! (And to be honest, I’m not even sure about that first one. From what I understand, Jess has a certain “reputation” around school.) There’s nothing to even talk about at the kids’ table! George still sits in a booster seat and he’s my closest friend there! I keep checking over my should to spy on you guys with your fancy wine and your “Frankly, I get everything at Williams-Sonoma” and it looks SO GODDAMN FUN. Why can’t I be a part of this?!
Plain and simple, if you seat me at the kids’ table again this year I’m letting them all drink. I’m letting them all drink and I’m bringing drugs. And not the “legal in some states” pussy drugs. I’M BRINGIN’ THE GOOD ONES. Powders and needles and shit. And if they get addicted it’s all your fault cause you allowed this to happen. Seating me at the kids table is basically you admitting you want your nieces and nephews to do crack. (And I KNOW where to get crack! It’s called THE DEEP WEB and they have EVERYTHING. Don’t test me, guys.)
As for where I sit at the adult’s table, I refuse to be more than two seats away from any of the “cool cousins.” I’m not even gonna name who the cool cousins are cause; let’s be honest, we all know. Truthfully, I’ve been trying to get in good with them my entire life and I think this is the Thanksgiving I finally do. I’m bringing an internet friend home this year and he’s wicked funny so my social stock is really about to take off. His name is Chandler and he’s taken THREE improv classes.
Also, this is off topic but while I’m making demands, no more fucking APPLES in the stuffing!! Who ever taught you guys to put apples in the stuffing?! If I see ANY fruit in the stuffing this year, I’m still doing that thing where I give the kids beer and needle drugs. Regardless of where you seat me! And before you ask — YES, raisins are a fruit.
So those are my very simple demands. No kids’ table, no apples, and $1,400 (for rent and improv classes with Chandler.) Failure to comply in ANY of these will result in a VERY unhappy Thanksgiving and set the pace for a VERY unhappy Christmas.
ALSO WE’RE WATCHING FOOTBALL ON THE BIG TV DOWNSTAIRS AND NOT THE GODDAMN MACY’S PARADE SO DON’T GET ANY IDEAS.
PS – I met a girl at Dave & Buster’s last week and we’re engaged. She’s coming over, too. She’s a little on the younger side, though, so the kids’ table is fine for her.