Listen up, y’all. I have hosted Thanksgiving for 22+ people every year since 2003, so you better believe I have a thing or two to say about it.

A word of warning to my family: all your names have been changed to protect your identity, but you know who you are. Brace yourselves. Either you’ll learn some new manners by reading this post or you’ll never want to come to my house for Thanksgiving again. Either way, I win.

Get the full scoop at my column In the Powder Room today. You’ll be glad you did. And feel free to forward it to any knuckle draggers in your own families who could use a little bitch slappery.

But come on back tomorrow and I’ll give you the low-down on the 5K race Mini-Me and I ran together over the weekend. Sneak peak? Okay, sure. One of us cried, and one of us stopped at a yard sale. You’ll have to come back tomorrow for more details.

See you then, Rubberneckers.


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