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Anyone can be thankful on Thanksgiving. Well, unless you’re a turkey. And not one with a death wish. (Though, really, what’s a turkey got to look forward to? The new season of The Newsroom?) But being thankful on a day of thanks is a little on the nose, isn’t it? Kind of like being independent on Independence Day or saintly on St. Patrick’s Day or oozy on Open Sores Day.

Here at the Blog Center for Self Pity, we prefer to take a different approach to Thanksgiving. Instead of being thankful, we’re full of regrets. And loving it!

So without further adieu and so that I can get back to my holiday drinking, we present this year’s Thanksgiving “I’m sorrys”. Happy holiday!

I’m sorry turkey tastes a lot like chicken. It makes my standard “tastes like chicken” joke kind of lame.

I’m sorry Thanksgiving doesn’t traditionally feature egg rolls. Because YUM!

I’m sorry about the centerpiece I put on the table. On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more open-minded about lizards.

I’m sorry I served the questionable stuffing. I thought it would be okay. I will not, however, pay your hospital bill. It’s not my fault you don’t have insurance. Really, if you think about it, Obama gave you food poisoning. Not me.

I’m sorry I messed with the Thanksgiving schedule. I thought daybreak “Thanksgiving dinner on a croissant” would be fun. I also probably shouldn’t have broken into your house so early in the day, but those rolls aren’t going to make themselves. Also, next time: boneless turkey bits.

I’m sorry about the argument at the dinner table. Family is family. Also sorry your cousin is an idiot.

I’m sorry the first Thanksgiving didn’t take place in a pizza pub.

I’m sorry my Miles Standish action figure idea never took off.

I’m sorry “It’s Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown” does not get twenty-four hour play on some station like “A Christmas Story” does at Christmas. That scene with Snoopy setting up the table in the yard just kills me.

I’m sorry about the candied sweet potatoes. You know, ’cause sweet potatoes are icky.

I’m sorry when it was my turn at dinner to say what I’m thankful for I said “twerking”. It’s not like I got up and did it, did I? Not like Granny. (That scamp.)

I’m sorry you missed your flight out. Holiday travel can be so stressful. But how did I know the car would break down? Aunt Linda’s turkey gravy smelled a LOT like E-85 fuel, didn’t it?

I’m sorry “passing around the pumpkin pie and brass knuckles” has never caught on as a holiday tradition.

I’m sorry my attempt to celebrate America’s English roots by merging favorite desserts didn’t go so well. I really though pumpkin blood pudding pie would be good.

I’m sorry about that football bet. I don’t want to be unfeeling so…take an extra week to get your stuff out of your house before you sign over the deed.

I’m sorry Grandpa didn’t put on his glasses before making that pie recipe. Fido will be missed.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!


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