Adulting? Well I certainly wasn’t kidding.

Friendsgiving success! Battling against the debilitating obstacles of insubstantial adultism, I somehow corralled enough bits and bobs to make a table for 9. Just. I’m so bad at adulting that I realised I don’t own 9 pieces of cutlery. I think I weigh in at about 7 knives, 8 forks, 10 dining/soup spoons and 3 teaspoons. I have more carving knives than I do regular knives. I may own 2 carving forks, but I couldn’t properly equip a table of 10. I have several cheese slicers, 2 graters and a cheese knife, but insufficient teaspoons. I own a lettuce knife, a melon baller, two olive/cherry pitters and a meat cleaver, but I couldn’t set a table with uniform wine glasses. Once we get past my set of 6 IKEA wine glasses we’re onto the weird cavalier wine glasses. If we’re desperate I have fluoro plastic wine cups complete with lids and straws. I even have a miniature trash bin that functions as a bizarre vessel. THIS ADULTING IS HARD, OK?

Fortunately for the cutlery (but not for their lack of attendance) two people didn’t show up, so we weren’t forced to arm anyone with a steak knife/chopsticks combo. Then we had chairs to worry about. 6 chairs live at my kitchen table. While the table can expand to seat about 12, the seats can’t reproduce. Grabbing my flatmate and my respective computer chairs helps, but only gets us to 8, one short of the magic number of 9. As a backup, there are two plastic lawn chairs that have been sitting outside the shed since I moved in. I think they used to be green, but they’re now a swampy grey colour reminiscent of hope dying. My girlfriend and I washed them off and scrubbed them down. We swaddled them in blankets, gave them pillows and a place at our table with a roof above their head. Thanksgiving is a time for chairity, guys.

No, I didn’t write that whole paragraph exclusively for that pun, but I can’t say I wasn’t working towards it. Is that really so deseatful?

With a dangerous amount of vino and most of the contents of a near full black strap rum bottle, the puns flew thick, fast and hard. Exerting all of my willpower not to make a dick joke there. SEE GUYS? ADULTING! We ran through our celebrity crushes, drank every time someone made a toast to what they were thankful for (every few minutes, it seemed) and gorged our bellies. Post mealtime we pulled out the paper and coloured pencils to doodle with, then launched into two games of the What Would You Rather Have Sex With? game.

If I wasn’t explicit about it yesterday (though the game gets explicit) the game is very simple. Grab a big bowl, a bunch of paper and some pens. Give everyone a pen and 6 little pieces of paper. On each piece they need to write one thing they would hypothetically have sex with, be it a person, place or abstract concept. Whatever you can think of, you put it to paper, then fold that paper up and throw it in the bowl. The bowl is passed around and people will draw two slips of paper. They read out the contents of the two slips and decide which they’d rather have sex with. They put the victor back in and throw the loser out. The bowl goes around until only one piece remains and you’ve found yourself the most desirable person/place/abstract concept. It’s a ton of fun and creates a heap of meta humour. It runs like an amalgamation of Would You RatherCards Against Humanity and any MTV dating show. Be risque or just plain weird, depending on your playgroup you’ll find what kind of things will fly.

In our case it was a parrot who could do a spot on Christopher Walken impersonation. We dubbed him Christopher Squawken.

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