I never thought I’d say this, but Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
I’ve always loved it, but I think it may have officially jumped Christmas to make it to the top of my list.
First of all, you wake up and your house already smells like deliciousness and by the time you make it out of your room and turn the TV on, the Detroit Lions are already down by four touchdowns.
If that’s not enough, football goes on all day and is capped off by the greatest food ever (not served at La Casita’s): Pie.
Football, pie and … well I guess that’s it. But those two are good enough to push Thanksgiving, or “T-Gives,” as I like to call it, to the top. I’m getting excited just thinking about it.
You know what? This is awkward. I’m sorry, I’m not very good at writing about things I like. I’m much more proficient at writing about things I hate, such as theme parties. I hate theme parties.
Theme parties were fun back in the day. We all went to an ‘80s party freshman year and gawked at the girls in spandex, but it’s time to move on.
Just this last weekend I had two theme parties to go to. The first was a wig party in Clairemont. I wanted to dress as a Whig. You know, a member of the 1800s American political party? Yeah, no one else seemed to get it either.
Next up was “Rock Stars and Divas” for my female friend’s 21st birthday. Now that’s annoying enough in and of itself, but this wasn’t even a house party; we were going to Typhoon Saloon in Pacific Beach.
I really didn’t want to dress up at all, but my buddy Robbie was wearing skintight red pants, absurd high-top sneakers and a Freddie Mercury moustache to boot, so I felt like I needed something. I put on reasonably tight gray jeans, a too-small, faded black T-shirt and some Vans from high school with a studded belt. I was adorable while Robbie looked so ridiculous he wouldn’t get out of the car when we went to pick up liquor.
So when we arrive at the pre-party in PB, sure enough, we were the only guys in attendance that made even the slightest attempt to dress up. Robbie then announces, “Well this sucks, I’m glad I brought a change of clothes, I’m about to walk back to my truck and change.”
Oh sweet. Guess what? I do not have a change of clothes. Now suddenly I’m the overdressed one. On top of that, I didn’t even really look like a rock star, I just looked like a 14-year-old who shops at Hot Topic.
At that point, I basically guaranteed that everyone in the bar would look down on me and there was no way I was getting laid. In other words, it was like every other Saturday night.
I did, however, end up consuming enough alcohol to stop caring about the beginning of the night. You know you’re having a good time when your buddy grabs you and says, “Time to go.” Then when you ask him why, he says, “The bar is closing” and you’re completely shocked.
“What? This bar closes at 10? How lame.”
“It’s 1:30, Pope, and you’re wearing some girl’s jacket. Its time to go.”
“Touché, moustache man. Touché.”
So I leave you with this: While you’re enjoying your turkey and cranberry sauce during this wonderful holiday, don’t forget what you should really be thankful for.
For me, it’s pie, Aaron Rodgers and those of you who read these columns and don’t threaten to literally knock my teeth out.
No but really, thank you. It’s my awesome readers that give me the confidence to continually get rejected by girls at bars and denied by girls in my classes.
And that’s from the heart.
—David Pope is an English senior.
—This column does not necessarily reflect the opinions of The Daily Aztec.
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