Did you have a good Thanksgiving with the family?
Of course you didn’t; you had it with the family.
The phrase “with the family” is equivalent to the phrase “while being tortured sadistically.”
Let’s try it out: Did you have a good Thanksgiving while being tortured sadistically? See how the words are different, but their meaning hasn’t changed.
Are you nursing a headache today because getting through Thanksgiving with the family means more Wild Turkey than actual turkey?
Did your crazy uncle pull out his pictures of what he claims to be a Bigfoot, but what looks suspiciously like the stump in his backyard.
Did your vegan cousin punctuate the Thanksgiving Day prayer by loudly proclaiming that meat is murder?
Did your aunt then correct your vegan cousin by informing her that this year’s Thanksgiving dinner was roadkill, and therefore its death was clearly an accident. (It may have been opossum, nobody was quite sure. Your uncle was really drunk when he hit it.)
Did your crazy uncle once again regale you with story of how he once shot a unicorn, but by the time he got to it, it had turned back into his neighbor’s goat?
Did you cousin, the serial dater, arrive with a man who was a definite upgrade from previous years: he did have a face tattoo and prosthetic fangs, but at least he didn’t have a hook for a hand?
Did an argument break out over whether the term inbred is pejorative?
Did the argument rapidly escalate when somebody looked up the word pejorative?
Did the argument result in multiple stabbings, limited gun-play, and one injury from a crossbow?
Do you now have a wound on your forehead that you will describe in the future as the scar of Thanksgiving 2014?
Did your aunt, the mean one, bring her infamous three bean salad?
Did the three bean salad taste like a monkey peed on a pile of death?
Did everyone suffer through the three bean salad because they’re too afraid of her to comment?
Note: Among your aunts, being labeled as “the mean one” is a bit like being labeled as “the racist Nazi.”
Did your drunken uncle attempt to carve the turkey (or opossum, groundhog, warthog, whatever) and sever his pinky finger…again?
Did your uncle, the volunteer fireman who thinks he’s a doctor because he’s had first aid training, attempt to reattach the finger using liquor as an antiseptic and fishing line as sutures?
Was the phrase, “I’ve never seen so much blood” uttered multiple times during the procedure?
Did you promise yourself that you would never again step into this unholy cacophony?
At least not until Christmas, or you’ve procured holy water and a crucifix.