Comediva Pick: It’s Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 2012 is coming up this week and what does that mean? A completely unnecessary theme-song revolving around Thanksgiving food, because these things happen now. Brought to you by the same Patrice Wilson who birthed the ungodly “Friday,” and laid it over Rebecca Black’s awkward sways, “It’s Thanksgiving” is sung (I use the term as loosely as possible) by Nicole Westbrook who comes to us straight out of some suburban middle school.

Half of me loves this video for its extreme absurdity (her singing into a drum stick, suggesting 12-year-olds can cook anything let along an entire Thanksgiving meal, the rap-praying that happens before dinner), but another part of me despises it simply because I know it will be in the holiday vernacular for years to come. Does anyone really want to listen to Adam Sandler on Thanksgiving or Hanukkah? No, but you do it every year because it signifies the season as much as awkward relatives and overly-aggressive backyard football games. I fear “It’s Thanksgiving” will take on a similar cultural significance and someday, I’ll have to explain to my kids what the hell it is.

Until then, I can only ask questions in order to give my future offspring some good answers: Why is a middle-aged tattooed man going to parties consisting of only tweens? Why are you explaining to me how the calendar works? Why is Nicole wearing a shirt that says “Dance ‘Til Dawn’ when her bedtime is totally no later than 9:30pm? Who actually x’s off days on their calendar? Who includes mac and cheese in their Thanksgiving dinner? Actually, I take that back. I’m going to make mac n cheese this year, that’s a great idea. But if Patrice Wilson shows up at my door in a turkey costume, I’m just going to be pissed. I mean I’ll feed him, I’m not a monster. But I’ll be pissed.

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About the author

Valerie is Comediva's current intern extraordinaire where she researches things and sits at the front desk like a boss. A semi-young East Coast transplant, she moved to LA eighteen months ago with a car that saw the millennium, a couch to stay on for a week and two friends in the city. She now boasts the same car, a month-to-month lease, and a whopping five friends in the city. She has a thing for pasty, red-headed boys (lookin' at you Louis C.K.), television, and canned frosting--of which, only one can be considered acceptable in Los Angeles.

Back East, she has an over-achieving yet horribly-lovable big brother at Yale, and the sweetest parents imaginable, as they never complain that she's not at Yale. As a writer, she dreams of the day she sells something and tells her brother to suck it (and then with great apology, takes it back immediately).

View all articles by Valerie Armstrong

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