When you ask whether I prefer “white meat vs dark meat”, you’re talking about the turkey, right?
Right…?
Boisterous, intoxicated uncles. Politically-opinionated and genetically-related geriatrics. Dairy-induced gastrointestinal events. If there weren’t enough reasons to dread what we Americans like to call Turkey Day, please, allow me to give you one more that you most definitely didn’t ask for.
As you may know, I love to eat. So one might be tempted to think that the cornucopia of culinary delights at my disposal at Thanksgiving would be a real windfall for a little glutton such as myself. Without question, I should be going buck-wild in a debaucherous frenzy, right? It should be my Legendary 12th Birthday every November, indeed.
But if there’s one holiday tradition that’s more dear to my heart than feasting with reckless abandon, it’s the sacred ritual of having all sorts of deep emotional and relational issues come out of the woodwork at the most inopportune time. Nay, I might even argue that that is what “the holidays are all about.”1See, for example: Little Bo Peep Has Lost His Respect For Mainstream Gender Norms
And what better place to find all sorts of ----- up issues than our dreams?
So–true story here–in one recurring dream I’ve had since my teenage years, I find myself in line at a grand buffet2I couldn’t help sneaking in a reference to one of my outside-the-mainstream musical faves, Grand Buffet. with an empty plate. This is going to be so ----- awesome, right? That’s always my first reaction, at least. “I do declare, I must have died and gone to heaven!”
Naturally, I hit that smorgasboard, and I hit it hard. I summarily proceed to scoop one scrum-diddly-umptios dish onto my plate after another, practically drooling in anticipation the whole time. I just can’t wait to sit down and enjoy this feast fit for a king!
Before I do that, though, I have to make sure I’ve hit up all the wonderful options available to me. To my delight, I discover that what I thought was the end of the buffet is actually the beginning of a whole ‘nother section. Just when I thought this dream couldn’t get any better!
But then I find another long aisle of seductive sneeze-guarded options…and another…and another. Just one problem though. At this point I’m long out of real estate on my plate. And that’s about when a very uneasy feeling starts creeping in…
Soon enough, though, around the sixth newly-discovered buffet table, it’s full-on terror. I’ll never be able to practically enjoy all the opportunities in front of me. There’s no way I’m going to be able to eat everything that I want to–nay, that I need to eat.
Too…many…choices. Can’t…handle…decisions. Must…eat…everything.
And every time, in the midst of this crippling paralysis, I finally short-circuit and mentally snap, waking myself up only to find that I’m drenched in a cold sweat.
What kind of ----- cerebral hellscape did I just experience (again)?!?
Seriously. As ridiculous as it may sound, The Never-Ending Buffet is literally my worst nightmare…
Just a day or two ago, the Boss Lady happened to share with me a rather humorous meme similar to this one:
I simultaneously chuckled, drooled, and cried just a wee bit at the thought.
Oh man, you can bet that a Black Thanksgiving spread featuring ribs, BBQ, fried chicken, etc., etc, etc, sounded tantalizing. I mean, let’s face it: who the hell is actually sincerely excited about turkey when KFC is an option?3And let’s face it: KFC is actually pretty shitty but it’s still waaaay better than a ----- gobbler. What is wrong with Caucasian culture that it insists on inflecting so much suffering on itself (for once)?!?
But then in the back of my mind, I began to realize that a horrible, terrible, no-good thought was forming.
Something about this hypothetical situation was making feel very anxious and extremely uncomfortable.
In fact, I still haven’t quite been able to put my finger on what exactly about it that is causing me such distress.
Wait a minute…
*Checks my “Thanksgiving I’ve-Got-Issues Bingo Card“*
Well, I didn’t expect “Fear of secretly being a food racist” to be on here, but it looks like I’ll be checking that one off this year…
HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYBODY!
P.S. For a more uplifting Thanksgiving-themed read, may I suggest No, Olive You, Man?
P.S.S. Sorry for being such a Debbie Downer. At least you can be grateful you’re not me, I suppose.
Content created on: 24/25 November 2020 (Tues/Weds)
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