This weekend started the annual Thanksgiving Debate.

A little background: If tuna is “Chicken of the Sea,” then turkey is “Chicken of the Devil.” I hate turkey. I hate everything about it. Even further, I hate the whole concept of the “traditional dinner” - stuffing and cranberry sauce and greens and turkey and mashed potatoes and rolls and all that crap. Hate it. Hate it.

Not to mention I’m not altogether keen on the “large family gathering” thing. I can deal with immediate family members, I can deal with my grandparents, etc., etc., but I can’t deal with them all simultaneously. As Mom says, “it drives me bug-ass crazy.”

So. Thanksgiving every year involves me carting ass to two different houses - Jenn’s family dinner and my family dinner - just to get there and go through the whole “you don’t like turkey?” discussion. It goes like this:

Relative: You don’t like turkey?

Travis: No. I don’t. I haven’t liked turkey for years.

Relative: (Incredulous) How can you not like turkey?

Travis: Is there a food you don’t like?

Relative: Sure. I don’t like [insert food here].

Travis: How can you not like [insert food here]?

Relative: Because it’s gross. But turkey? Everyone likes turkey.

Travis: Well, obviously not everyone likes turkey.

Relative: Whatever. I guess you can just eat mashed potatoes and rolls for dinner.

Travis: Hey, that sounds great. That way not only can I continue sitting at the “kid table” and be kept from any decent dinner conversation, but I can also sit alienated at that table because I don’t want to eat what everyone else is eating. Fucking brilliant. While you’re at it, why don’t you just give me a paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?

And that pretty much sums up how the entirety of Thanksgiving Day goes for me. I have that same conversation with every single relative, over and over, until after dinner (which is at something like 4:00p… who’s hungry at 4:00p?!?!), at which point I’m ready to go into a coma from carb overload and that’s when people decide it’s time to play games.

Bah.

I’ve declared a moratorium on Thanksgiving this year. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be at my own home. If people want to eat with me, they can come over.

But no turkey.

Nope. None. I’ll go get some Chinese the night before and whoever’s eating at my house can have Chinese with me. I’m a big fan of the General Tso chicken.

Jenn’s told me that she doesn’t want to be there if I’m not having turkey. You’d think that’d make me cave, but in reality, I don’t care. If she wants turkey, she can haul over to the other side of town where they’re eating turkey.

An additional issue has been raised this year, beyond the turkey issue: We don’t have much furniture. We don’t have a full dining room set or a load of extra chairs or anything. We have a couch, a bistro set, a coffee table, and that’s about it. I admit there’s nowhere for people to sit, barring the floor, which is a perfectly acceptable solution to me and people in many, many other countries. I figure if people want chairs, they should bring ‘em.

Does that make me unhospitable, or a “bad host?” Maybe. But I don’t care. I’m tired of having the holidays turn into a rampant waste of my paid time off. I’m on vacation, but it’s a huge chore and only leaves me pissed off when it’s over.

Now I’ve gotta figure out how to tell Mom “no turkey.” We’ll see how that goes.