Oh no, it is the food day.

There are exactly two kinds of holidays: bad ones and Halloween. Today is not Halloween. Today is Thanksgiving, and it’s the worst one.

Almost every holiday has something to it that I can find a silver lining in, but not Thanksgiving. This is the one I really wish I could pretend did not exist. It really shakes me to my core on more levels than I can handle.

Here’s a small sampling of the reasons why I hate this stupid day:

Growing up in Plymouth, Massachusetts. I can tell you for sure that far too much emphasis is placed on this day. It is a remembrance of that one time we got along with a race of people before we totally screwed them out of their way of life for 400 years and counting.

Turkey. I’ve been a vegetarian since the ’90s but I certainly remember eating meat and Turkey was the least interesting of all of them. If for some reason I found a need to drop my vegetarian lifestyle and eat meat again, turkey would never make its way to my lips the other 364 days a year. Face it, it’s overrated because it is eaten less often.

Parades: STUPID. I’ve watched them, I’ve marched in them in support of causes I believed in. I have never understood the appeal of either side of that interaction. I’m not a creature driven by attention, though. A parade to me is a cactus to a fish: we have no good reason to ever cross paths.

Football. I can get into football, when I’m interested in watching a team I care about play. But on Thanksgiving, even if your team is not playing, you’re supposed to watch it. When you’re not rooting for a particular team, football seems kind of pointless. But today is thanksgiving, so you have to watch it.

Economy. Thanksgiving is the bloated corpse of a holiday that used to be. It is now the official lead up to another holiday- “Thanksgiving but you have to buy everyone presents, too.” Retailers, in their lust for money screw over the public and more so their employees. I can’t tell you how many times I had to go to bed at 3 PM on thanksgiving day so I could get even a terrible amount sleep before going to work 15-20 hours for a greedy corporation the following day.

(SPECIAL NOTE FOR THE ASSHOLES AT best buy: of the many you are the worst. Stop using your dehumanizing terms for your employees in your ads for your sales, you monsters! And by the way, I’m still pissed off that you put up posters in the break room that implied your own bonus structure was a myth. Do you just hate the people who work for you? I can’t think of any other explanation.)

Economy, II. This one is true of most holidays. You have to take a day off work, but you get no say over what you do with said day off. You’re not getting paid (if you, like the majority of Americans are paid on an hourly basis) BUT you’re still obligated to be at certain places at certain times, and follow orders.

Meals. Having just turned 33, I would like to come out on record and say that I would rather kill myself than have one more person try to dictate when and what I eat. I haven’t starved to death yet but people are constantly stressing me out with my own diet. “I don’t eat that anymore” is met with “I brought you this food you explicitly said you don’t eat anymore, please eat it!” and people are going to scrutinize your plate. “Did you eat enough?” “No, I deliberately did not eat enough as I have no natural survival instinct! What’s for dessert? Outlet licking?”

Meals, II. These holiday meals are the worst. A small number of people spend a lot of time preparing the meals, and for that they deserve true appreciation. However, everybody having to talk about these meals–planning for weeks in advance–up to, during, and after consuming the meal, with the divvying of the leftovers–it must stop. No meal is worth this amount of discussion. The fact of the matter is it takes one phone call or three minutes in an app on my phone to have a pizza delivered to my door, and pizza is better than most foods. Also, I don’t need a reason for pizza. It’s an always-food.

Thanksgiving, I hate you. Thankfully this is probably the last one.

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