AAVR Magazine

Yep, your favorite Indian (Indian as opposed to Native American) is back to explain why you should all love this very American occasion. Thanksgiving was, is, and ever shall be my absolute favorite holiday. No multi-colored eggs that rot in obscure areas of your home before anyone finds them (I’ll discuss the family Easter Egg Hunt that, unfortunately, extended far beyond Easter, thanks to everyone forgetting about one little gem that had been placed under a couch, at another time), and no shopping for crap gifts that may

a. be the fruitcake my parents insist everyone loves
b. contain some piece that could lead to a choking hazard and lead to a recall (sorry kids, I don’t make the toys, I just buy them, albeit begrudgingly) or;
c. suck.

Nope, this holiday is all about massive Charlie Brown floats (Macy’s parade, what what!), football (Don’t you hate those tools who never help out with the dishes because they’re too busy watching the game? I’ll be one of those tools this year.), and the actual giving of some thanks. So, instead of dropping some actual knowledge on ya’ll (I don’t think you’re ready for that jelly), I decided to be really selfish (but also, hopefully, a little entertaining) by giving you Shibow’s Reasons to Love Thanksgiving.

1. This:

2. It forces you to you know, like, think and whatever. At least in does in my family. Even though my post thus far has made me sound as if I hate everyone and everything—which may or may not be true—I actually appreciate the whole “Let’s go ’round the table and each name something we’re thankful for” bit. It’s kind of nice. But if anyone asks, I didn’t write that. Someone swooped in and edited this post to make it seem like I had a soul.

3. Bollywood’s got nothin’ on us. Ok, maybe they do, but still. Since I’ve officially graduated to amused spectator, I can now enjoy the annual Kollappallil kids Thanksgiving performance. It has, over the years, gone from being a straightforward, historically inaccurate history of the holiday, complete with construction paper pilgrim hats and Native American feathers to, most recently, a (maybe more accurate) talk show featuring a belligerent turkey. Kids these days are so creative. Oh—sidebar— if any of my family members are reading this, keep whatever photos you may have of a decked out Pilgrim Shibow TO YOURSELF, or you will pay. (NOTE: AAVR Magazine will pay for these photos -Ed. )

4. See below.

Believe it or not (if you’re the unlucky fella I attempted to bake this for last year, you fall into the “or not” category, but we all make mistakes, hater), I made this pie . That’s my stove top and everything. I swear. I’ve made this pie many times, and it’s come out looking like the above (meaning freaking perfect) exactly twice, which should explain why I felt a photo op was necessary. Meringue is just not as easy as my girl Nigella Lawson makes it out to be.

Yeah, I’ll admit it: I’m a baker. What of it? I’m that chick from Grey’s Anatomy (not that I watch that… I just hear stuff). You know that chick—the annoying, outspoken speech-y blond chick who cranks out muffins whenever she’s had a bad day in the ER. Yeah. I’m that girl. And this is my day.

5. I get to be selfish. Did I mention that already? Well, whatever, it’s all about me anyway. Basically, now I get to bombard you with a list of things I’m thankful for:

a. This. Because a little shameless plugging never hurt anyone.

b. Kanye West. Because when I don’t want to be me, I can just Be Kanye.

c. Justin Colby [is currently editing this post and may have inserted himself into this list].

d. Important stuff which I refuse to elaborate on, mostly because I will stop writing if I find out one of my posts elicited an “awww” from someone.

e. The Book of Sheda (as in Sheda Brown, my one phone call, should the need for a bail-out ever arise). This is a publication that is not yet available to the general public, but will be once I hit the jackpot/marry Warren Buffett. The teachings of Sheda have helped me through many a rough patch, including, but not limited to, a recent falling out I had with a [and you call yourself a] friend. Included:

“I’d tell him, you’ve got problems. If I had a car, I’d probably walk outside and find you keyin’ it up.”

“I’m not crazy because you say I’m crazy, I’m crazy because I know I’m crazy.”

“You need to buy him a dress in his size.”

“This is not Jenny Jones.”

“I wish somebody would just roll me home.” Indeed, Sheda. Indeed.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meringue to perfect.