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Listen.
I know we are all human, but I don't want to hear about how you ate something you weren't supposed to eat on Thanksgiving knowing full well you have time to practice "Just saying No".
I'm removing all that power you think you have right now to get one past me.
You'd better start thinking of all the lame excuses right now for why you think I'm not going to smack you upside the head when I see you ate some of the marshmallow yams.
Don't give me "But, cleo! I was walking through the dining room and I TRIPPED over the dog and my mouth fell open right on this plate of yams."
No, no, no.
I don't want to hear you had to hide the pecans rolls in your bra to keep them warm for your husband. Honey, he can keep his own buns warm.
I don't want to hear you licked off the spoon that went in the mashed potatoes but you didn't inhale.
I don't want to hear that you didn't have relations with that woman, Sarah Lee, while you're touching her pie crust.
uhn uhn uhn.
Thanksgiving should be the easiest exercise in self-control. You've got a turkey right there.
You don't need the stuffing. It came out of a dead bird's butt. Hello. Dead bird butt bread leavins?
And that cranberry sauce? Let's be real here. Cranberries are probably fine on the OWL rung, but if it came out of a can and looks like a nuclear cooling tower and makes a schlopp sound as it falls onto the plate, it had better not be on your fork.
That's right. Give me that look. Don't make me come over there.
I know we are all human, but I don't want to hear about how you ate something you weren't supposed to eat on Thanksgiving knowing full well you have time to practice "Just saying No".
I'm removing all that power you think you have right now to get one past me.
You'd better start thinking of all the lame excuses right now for why you think I'm not going to smack you upside the head when I see you ate some of the marshmallow yams.
Don't give me "But, cleo! I was walking through the dining room and I TRIPPED over the dog and my mouth fell open right on this plate of yams."
No, no, no.
I don't want to hear you had to hide the pecans rolls in your bra to keep them warm for your husband. Honey, he can keep his own buns warm.
I don't want to hear you licked off the spoon that went in the mashed potatoes but you didn't inhale.
I don't want to hear that you didn't have relations with that woman, Sarah Lee, while you're touching her pie crust.
uhn uhn uhn.
Thanksgiving should be the easiest exercise in self-control. You've got a turkey right there.
You don't need the stuffing. It came out of a dead bird's butt. Hello. Dead bird butt bread leavins?
And that cranberry sauce? Let's be real here. Cranberries are probably fine on the OWL rung, but if it came out of a can and looks like a nuclear cooling tower and makes a schlopp sound as it falls onto the plate, it had better not be on your fork.
That's right. Give me that look. Don't make me come over there.
I love it!
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