What happens over Thanksgiving weekend …

I’m telling you … Las Vegas has got nothing on Thanksgiving weekend, where this thing called “sinfulness” is concerned … in fact, I’m pretty sure we managed to cover at least six of the seven deadly sins. And it’s only Saturday.

I singlehandedly took care of greed, gluttony, and sloth before I left the dining room table on Thanksgiving day. And just to be sure I covered them all, I continued to devour myself into a food coma the next day. While I was lying around in sweat pants willing my gut to explode and put an end to my pain and suffering.

I can’t be 100% sure of this one, because I wasn’t in the living room, but I’m pretty sure some wrath emerged during the football game, given the shouts I heard coming from that area of the house.

As you know, I did not actually participate in the Black Friday shopping extravaganza, but based on the reports I read on Facebook, it was a day filled with both pride—over profound purchases, and envy—over the profound purchases of others.

That leaves us with lust. I can’t speak for others, but since I’m still recovering from a food coma and trying to squeeze into my pre-Thanksgiving clothes … this one might have stayed in Vegas this weekend.

That said, if I *had* gone shopping yesterday, I would have spent the afternoon at the movie theatre, where regardless of what was showing, I could probably bet on Hollywood selling sex. So … there you have all seven.

I’m not here to preach. I’m just saying … perhaps our good tidings have gone astray. Perhaps we should refocus our energies on the spirit of the holiday. Or, perhaps we should face the reality of the holiday. So, I’ll leave you with the infinite wisdom of my hero, Jon Stewart:

“I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land.”


About Not-so-SuperMomma

See my previous blog at www.theminimalchallenge.wordpress.com to learn about how I used to be a SuperMom ...
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