Now that we’ve dismally returned from Thanksgiving break, our spirits low and blood pressures still high, I’d like to take the opportunity to reflect upon the holiday of celebrating stolen land and being nutritionally irresponsible. Though I’m sure students of BSM celebrated it in many different ways, here’s Thanksgiving in a nutshell.

It’s 11:16 am. You wake in a somewhat distant relative’s guest room to the beautiful harmony of your 4th snoozed alarm and your mother, clearly frustrated, asking you to please get out of bed. Little does she know, this is a reasonable time for you to be waking up, as you went to bed just 7 hours earlier after watching 16 different “Best Family Guy Moments” videos on YouTube. She also doesn’t realize that this is a fairly impressive feat considering you’ve seen the words “No Service” in the upper right-hand corner of your phone more times than you’ve seen them on the McDonald’s ice cream machine, which says a lot.

You finally roll out of bed 23 minutes later, as your morning scroll through TikTok grows dull and you remember that a full day of football starts at noon. You contemplate a shower but end up settling with an overgenerous amount of the Axe body spray that you’d accidentally left there four years ago. Your mom tells you to dress up nice, so you throw on some khakis and a Vineyard Vines button-up that somehow still kind of fits even though you purchased it in 7th grade.

The next few hours consist of fighting the urge to take a midday nap as you watch the Detroit Lions lose for the 8th year in a row and the distant sound of your aunt playing Candy Crush echoes. You open Snapchat to see four story posts from your buddy who is in Cabo, which slightly lessens your excitement about Thanksgiving as the most exciting part of your day has been watching a parade on TV. This is, however, until you receive a “Thankful for you boys” text in the group chat and a crisp dap-up from your older cousin that you’re oddly close with given you only see each other three times a year.

After Joe Buck’s strange optimism for underdog football teams begins to fade, dinner is finally ready. You wash your hands and have no choice but to dry them off with a towel flaunting some sort of cheesy holiday slogan. You sit down at the table and are immediately bombarded by questions surrounding your dating life. You pretend to laugh and address them with an uncomfortable “no,” just as you have the last four years. The food then starts going around, leaving you to choose between a wide selection of high cholesterol. You end up settling with all of the above. As you begin to ask yourself what stuffing is actually made of, an older relative unknowingly makes a remark that would likely rouse hostile feedback on Twitter.

You spin back for a third serving of food, regardless of your intuition advising you not to. This prevails to be a worse idea than marrying Courtney Love. The next hour or so is quite simple; you kick back on a recliner that’s seen its better days and watch the last game of the night, cautiously trying not to make any sudden movements. You finally doze off, full and thankful.