Thank You Notes (6 page)
Thank you… cockroaches living under the sink in my bathroom. First there were two of you, then there were four, then ten, then thirty. I don’t know how you reproduce so quickly, but I can only come to one conclusion: You guys are sluts.
Thank you… microbreweries, for making my alcoholism seem like a neat hobby.
Thank you… nickels, for being the redheaded stepchild of the coin community. You’re so thick, yet you’re worth so little. You’re like the quarter’s fatter, less successful brother.
Thank you… the kids’ table, for providing an isolated eating area for both young children and adult relatives who nobody likes.
Thank you… stuffing, for always being delicious, even though you’re cooked inside a turkey’s butt.
Thank you… the choice between the sofa bed and the air mattress at my parents’ house, for making me choose whether I want to sleep on a series of poorly placed metal bars or on an inflatable raft filled with cold air that leaks until I’m sleeping on the floor.
Thank you… post-Thanksgiving-dinner relaxation rituals, for being the one time when Uncle Gary can unbuckle his pants in front of the whole family and not get sent to jail.
Thank you… gizzard bag inside the turkey. If I was interested in coming face-to-face with a moist bag of vital organs, I’d take a look at the old people across the table.
Thank you… Christmas tree farms. You’re pretty much the only places in the world where a man carrying an axe in one arm and a toddler in the other can be considered normal.
Thank you… wishbones, for being the final “fuck you” to the turkey I have just devoured.
Thank you… office Christmas parties. In these times of economic stress and uncertainty, it’s important that employees can come together in a relaxed atmosphere and find out who’s the biggest slut in Accounting. (It’s Jessica.)
Thank you… guy whose chair made a farting noise, for spending the next 20 minutes awkwardly shifting around trying to re-create the noise so people would know it was just the chair.
