NEW JERSEY — Thanksgiving holiday traditions are a warm way to kick off the season for families across the nation, and I personally cannot wait for this week’s festivities. From watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade to watching some football between helpings, families everywhere have their own little traditions that bring them together and help remind all of us what the season is truly about. Whatever traditions your family may have, I’m sure you’re looking forward to them as much as I’m looking forward to my favorite! Every year, around 8 am, my mother wakes me up and tells me it’s time to start helping her prepare the food for our family’s dinner. I spend hours peeling potatoes, sautéing green beans, and cutting carrots, all while eagerly anticipating the highlight of my day: filling the hole at the back of the raw turkey with as much food as I can fit in there.
I remember my first time seeing the stuffing of a bird. I was 11 and my uncle had decided that it would be funny to get our family a turducken instead of a turkey that year. I watched with awe as he removed a chicken from the fridge, spread its legs before tying them together, and then filled it with stuffing. I was astonished when he then brought out a duck, rubbed some butter around its hole, and then jammed the whole chicken into its duckussy. Just when I thought the roller coaster of fowl behavior had come to end, he blew my mind. Slamming a turkey on its back, my uncle shoved the ducken right into the turkey, holding a wing down and not breaking eye contact. It was at that moment, I realized I wanted to be a bird stuffer.
Cramming that tight little turkussy full of stuffing is always the highlight of my Thanksgiving, especially when it seems like it can’t take another spoonful. That’s when I add the cranberry sauce, letting it seep into the walls of the turkey and get all mixed in there with the stuffing. I keep going until the cranberry sauce slowly oozes out, which let’s me know to tell my mom it’s time for the turkey to go into the oven. As the bird cooks, I can’t help but keep thinking about just how deeply I was able to stuff that lean, dry fowl with all of the fixings and how the marinated turkey will be nice and moist when it’s ready for us.
It isn’t until that golden brown turkey is sitting out, completely unattended while everyone else is setting the table, that I truly get to have my fun though. I creep up behind my little snack and admire my handiwork. After I finish my superficial admiration, I begin my physical appreciation once again. I take a spoon and thrust it in and out of the turkussy, mashing around the stuffing like a caveman discovering pudding. Some of it gets on my hand, but I’m not fancy, so I don’t look away from the turkey as I bring the spoon to my lips and get a mouthful of that hot stuffing. I lick the drippings off my hand and take one last look at the bird, smiling because I know it’s our little secret.
JERICO, NY – You were expecting a “nice and chill” Thanksgiving break back at home with your family. You’d been looking forward to the nice food, seeing your pets, and even chatting with family members you haven’t seen in a while. But before you know it, things are getting too hot to handle at the kid’s table thanks to a recent awkward encounter with your ugly cousin.
“I was really just trying to hit up that home Tinder, y’know? I didn’t expect to see my creepy cousin there, and obviously I wasn’t really interested,” you say. You go on to tell yourself that you “definitely only swiped right for the meme.” But your ugly cousin doesn’t seem to have received that message.
You might’ve worried that when you saw your cousin, she would be creeped out. As it turns out, she misunderstood your joke in a different way. You knew you were in deep shit when she arrived on Thanksgiving, ugly as ever, and offered you an uncomfortably close and unfathomably long hug. Things went from bad to worse with a smattering of stuffing innuendos being hurled your way.
One could argue it was all admissible… that is, until the family’s Thanksgiving Football Game. Over and over again you fall, brought to the ground by her and her slimy, reptilian face, far too close for comfort. If only one of the hot cousins was coming to mash your potatoes, you think wistfully. Alas, the fates deemed it just had to be the ugly one.
You break for your room, desperately attempting to escape the clutches of that foul-faced temptress. But as you look over your shoulder, all you see is a giddy, pig-eyed grin. Your fate may be sealed.
BLOOMFIELD, NJ — As students flocked to their hometowns in anticipation of Thanksgiving break, freshman Noah Yearwood was met with the horrifying discovery that his father is once again rearranging his mother’s guts.
“Ever since I got home, my dad has been walking into the kitchen whistling every morning. I don’t normally think anything of it until mom comes out of their bedroom giggling as she brushes out her tousled hair and lifts up her shirt to wipe whipped cream remnants off her lower belly.” Yearwood complained. “I even overheard her on the phone telling my aunt in graphic detail about the time my dad stuck all ten fingers up her vagina all while going down on her. That’s the same hand he uses to fist our Thanksgiving turkey every year. It’s so disgusting” Yearwood said; yet unaware that he was conceived during a rush of animalistic passion in a Wendy’s bathroom.
Yearwood’s suspicion was also piqued by orders for lube and a nine-inch strap-on made on the family’s joint Amazon account. Noah’s suspicions were confirmed on Saturday, after spending the entire night lying awake in his childhood bedroom, staring at the glow in the dark stars and paralyzed with horror as he heard violent thumping and cries of “oh yes, fill that hole too Marshall!” emanating from his parents’ bedroom.
“I really thought our sex life had wheezed its last, dying breaths around the 2008 subprime mortgage crisis. I chalked it up to Sherry hitting menopause, but turns out the only thing killing the mood was our son. With that cockblock out of the house, we’ve just been fucking like rabbits!” Marshall Yearwood revealed. “I miss our Noah, but being an empty nester has given me time to take up some wonderful new hobbies, like herb gardening and hardcore BDSM” Sherry added.
As of press time, Yearwood has found himself spiraling into self-doubt after realizing that his parents are the most popular members of Bloomfield’s burgeoning swinger scene, while he is barely pulling a C in Human Bonding and hasn’t felt the touch of a woman, well, ever.
Thanksgiving is a day in which friends and family give their thanks for all that they are grateful for. This year, I plan on expressing a huge thank you to God for gifting me with an invaluable asset: a succulent, sizable, stank-ass pussy.
When forging me from his flesh, God decided to direct any weight that I gain to my crotch, and I am endlessly thankful for that. The infamous freshman fifteen went straight to this vagina, leaving me with the fattest coochie I’ve ever called my own. I truly appreciate how this has improved all of its blessed intricacies—a vibrant vulva, a luxurious labia, an unmatched urethra.
Some may be thankful for the food on their table or their good health during this pandemic, and that’s great and all, but it’s clear that those people do not have as voluptuous of a vagina as I do. Whenever I bring up my fat cunt at the dinner table, these types of people always get upset. But I do not blame them, for we are all God’s creatures. It’s not my fault that God gave me such a thick, queef-prone honey pot—and likewise, it’s not their fault that they were not given this blessing. They have things that they can be grateful for, too! Like their… um… great personalities!
So—thank you, Jesus. Thank you for this huge, slippery waterslide in my pants. I could never repay you. Amen.
CLARA DICKSON HALL—After having met so many people since arriving at college, Michelle Taylor ‘22 is reportedly dying to return to her hometown this Fall Break and tell her parents all about the new college friends who won’t be a part of her life in two months’ time.
“I’m so excited to tell them about exploring AppleFest with Jacob and Matthew, and that time I stayed up with Katherine and Julia, just talking all night,” said Taylor, who will no longer be spending time with any of those people by the next time she returns home. Taylor also said she also can’t wait wait to show her parents how her new friends already have an active GroupMe, which after January will only be used by Jacob, trying to sell tickets to his a cappella concert.
“It’s amazing how fast we’ve bonded!” Taylor plans to tell her parents, who will be so naive as to ask her for updates on those same friends during Thanksgiving dinner.
While Taylor is expected to lose touch with all of her current friends before next semester, she will still run into the boy she hooked up with once with during o-week every fucking day for the next four years.
Thanksgiving Break is often a stressful time full of personality clashes and ideological disagreements. Here are CU Nooz’s tips for surviving!
- Offer to breed, raise, slaughter, clean, and roast the turkey to avoid spending time with distant cousins.
- Communicate only through memes to show your great aunt that your thoughts and feelings are in fact relatable.
- Volunteer to stand directly in front of the television so that the alpha males of your family can’t butt heads over sports.
- When your grandma asks you about your love life, remind her that Mary was a virgin.
- Remember to avoid the upstairs bathroom, because that’s where your uncle goes to poop.
- To help ease small talk, separate the group into three tables: adults, kids, and racists.
- Repeatedly stare at backpack full of textbooks you optimistically lugged home but realistically will never open.
- Write down versions of “It’s delicious!” and “Best I’ve ever had!” on the back of your hand to prepare for your mother’s constant need of validation for her cooking.
- If things get quiet, repeatedly whisper “Roy Moore” until the things liven up. Then shout “Ben Carson” until everyone calms down again.
- Remind your successful relatives that unless you find a job, you’ll be moving in with them, so they better hustle on the whole networking thing.
- If things get stressful, just remember that after this break you have one week until finals begin, so you ain’t seen nothin yet. Perspective is key.
GREATER TRI-STATE AREA — After a particularly tense Thanksgiving dinner peppered with snide remarks, Jane Davidson ’19 was surprised by the kindness prompted by the last slice of pumpkin pie.
“I got riled up when Janey rolled up our damn driveway with her blue Prius and Hillary 2016 sticker,” said Davidson’s ultra conservative grandfather as his climate change-fighting progeny turned red on the other side of the mashed potatoes. “But she really should have that last slice of pie, her Nana baked it for her.”
The first-time voter and distraught student similarly insisted that her grandpa have the last piece, leading to a bashful but persistent “No, You have it!” “NO, You,” back-and-forth between politically-opposed relatives.
By 10:00 p.m., both sides caved and shared the last slice, refusing to acknowledge that they had just done something nice together.
HOLLAND INTERNATIONAL LIVING CENTER – Huddled together in a common room of HILC, the twelve international students left all alone on campus are deeply confused about where everyone went.
“Hey, why’d everybody leave?” said bamboozled student Avi Khan after emerging to a cold, desolate wasteland. “Where would everyone need to be on the last Thursday of November?”
“They couldn’t have gone to do something, because Ithaca is fifty miles from the nearest major city, and there’s no reason to travel that far,” said freshman Kai Weston, making a detective map on a Goldwin Smith tackboard with red yarn tying together photos of his American friends. “Where could they have gone?! WHO TOOK THEM?”
At press time, a small cadre of European exchange students have assembled a search party that will meet tomorrow morning to look for the missing 20,000 students.
ARTS QUAD – Following a relatively surprising November snowstorm, reports indicate that Cornell students are using the change in weather as a conversation topic in place of much more controversial issues dominating discussions for the past month.
“Wow, I can’t believe it’s so snowy!” said Hannah Palmer ’19, choosing to ignore potentially polarizing subjects such as the recent presidential election, climate change, racism on college campuses, Cornell Graduate Students United, or equal wages for both men and women.
“Brrr, it already feels like winter [and boy am I glad that I have something else to talk about besides minimum versus living wages, the various violent crimes that have recently taken place in Ithaca, tuition hikes, the lack of women in STEM fields, or the pipeline protests in North Dakota]. And it’s not even Thanksgiving yet!”
After fully exhausting various undebatable talking points about snow, Palmer resorted to asking her friends about their Thanksgiving break plans before inevitably reminding them that eating turkey was unethical.
TRENTON, NJ — At his cousins’ house for Thanksgiving dinner Thursday night, President Skorton’s parents allegedly pressured him to “get a real job” and “stop living in fantasy land.” The 65 year-old reportedly got into a heated argument with his mother, Jane, and his father, Richard, about his future before dismissing them altogether and asking his Aunt Margaret for the cranberry sauce.
“We just don’t think taking care of little kids is a good use of our little boy’s time,” Jane told reporters, adding, “I know there’s not much you can do with a degree in psychology, but I figure he can get a job with a decent salary and dental if he actually looks for it.”
When Skorton defended himself by pointing out he would soon be the new head of the Smithsonian, his father retorted, “What? So you can play with action figures and model planes all day long you pansy? I built up my fencing business with my own sweat and blood so you could throw away your life being a glorified twelve-year old?”
Other relatives chimed in with their advice for Skorton’s career and personal life. Aunt Margaret pointed out, “There’s a job opening at the Staples down the road that looks just lovely dear.” Her husband Jedd added, “Yeah the checkout girl there has some sweet cans,” downing his fourth scotch and soda.
This was the end of the incident as Skorton quickly got up from the table, screamed, “I knew I should have gone to Thanksgiving at my girlfriend’s house!” and locked himself in his room to cuddle with his dog.