I know maybe you didn't think you needed a Thanksgiving drinking game, but I'm here to tell you that you definitely do. Hear me out: Another 21st-century Thanksgiving approaches, and that means a few things. Of course, it means the things Thanksgiving has always meant — family and food, complete with the fond reunions, holiday bonding, and scattered awkward interactions that have long been synonymous with Thanksgiving — but it now also means that when those awkward moments roll around and your eyes dive to your lap to avoid the situation by looking at your cell phone, you will see how your entire social network is spending their holiday as well. Thank you, social media, for giving me something to do while I "return an important work email" that just can't wait until my uncle tells me how he "has a lot of Mexican friends, but Trump kinda has a point about the border." What a time to be alive.

That said, some people hate Facebook, and I can understand why. It is prone to dramatic outbursts and it's easy to get caught up in other people's drama, even unintentionally. When it's not drama, it's often inane or just reveals that you fundamentally disagree with every political belief held by half of your friends and family. I am not one of those people. In fact, I love Facebook, which I feel is sort of a lame thing to say after, like, 2010, but I'm not going to let that stop me. Because I do! I like keeping in touch, I like people sharing articles and funny memes and stuff (not the Minions memes, though; calm down with the goddamn Minions), and, yes, I like laughing at other people when they take Facebook way too seriously. But here's the thing: On Thanksgiving, I don't like Facebook. Because it becomes homogeneous, treacly, and completely uninteresting. It's as though we ~as a society~ have jointly agreed to celebrate on social media in about seven, pre-approved ways.

Since you're going to undoubtedly be seeing all of these Facebook statuses whenever you look at your news feed on Thanksgiving, and since prolonged family time plus post-dinner, couch-bound hours of nursing a sluggish bout of Thanksgivingitis means you're going to be looking at your social media feeds a lot, we might as well make this interesting:

Boozy Thanksgiving Facebook Bingo

The rules aren't fancy, folks: Whenever you see one of the following social media posts over the course of the day, immediately finish whatever drink is in your hand and go pour yourself another.

("But what if it's too early on Thanksgiving and I haven't started drinking yet?" you might ask. To that, I say, "I don't understand what you mean by "too early" and now you're not invited to play. Go sit at the kids' table.")

A Picture Of A Plate Of Food

Jamie Kenney

Why. Why?! Show me a plate in America that doesn't look like this today. As it is, I find food pictures on social media a little weird, but sometimes it at least kind of makes sense. Like, sometimes you eat something so delicious you want to immortalize it. Or maybe you're eating something unique or new to you and want to share. Or you want to let people know about an awesome new restaurant or recipe you've discovered. But it's not like we don't know what a Thanksgiving meal looks like.

A Picture Of Whatever You Contributed To The Meal With An Accompanying Humble Brag


I just wish people would straight-up brag on Facebook. The coy self-deprecation that's really just fishing for compliments irks me. I would love to see more statuses, like "LOOK AT THIS AMAZING AND DELICIOUS THING I MADE! PRAISE ME AND MY KITCHEN SKILLS!"


Jamie Kenney

We get it. You're humble and you love everyone. Tomorrow are you going to go back to posting vague but obviously pissed off status with frequent references to your "haters"? Even if you are actually sincere with this, this status, probably the most pervasive of the bunch, is the greeting card of Thanksgiving statuses: contrived, unoriginal, and completely phoning it in. Provide me with specific details! Or! You can go snarky, like I have.

Jamie Kenney


A Picture Of Your Baby With The Same Caption As Everyone Else


Please post pictures of your baby in their adorable Thanksgiving outfits. Babies are awesome, and you should never hold back from posting pictures of your kid. But please come up with a more original caption. For example, a baby turkey is called a "polt"; maybe consider saying "My little polt, which is the name for a baby turkey. Look! You learned something today!" (Thank you Wild Kratts Thanksgiving episode for teaching me everything I ever needed to know about turkeys.)

A Very Hipster Thanksgiving

Julia Caesar/Unsplash

Your younger sister or whimsical cousin probably does this. There's nothing Thanksgiving-y about the picture, but homegirl is staying on fleek with the caption. Thankful for what, though? Sunshine? Filters? Flattering angles? The fact that this sort of artistic vaguery is celebrated on Instagram? I don't get it. These kids need to get off my damn lawn.

The Picture Of The Other Favorite Thanksgiving Activity

Jamie Kenney

This celebrates the three things Americans love more than anything else: eating, sloth, and sports. But, again, aren't most of us doing this? Show me how your Thanksgiving is different is what I'm saying here, guys.

The One Photo Of The Whole Family That Won't Happen Until Next Year

Shilad Sen/Flickr

I can't hate on this. This is cute. For a lot of people, the Annual Thanksgiving Picture is the only year-to-year account of how your family grows and changes. I do always feel bad for the person taking the picture, though. In this situation, I think even I could approve the use of a selfie stick.

Images: Doug Ford/Flickr; Pixabay; Jamie Kenney(2); Julia Caesar/Unsplash; Mark/Flickr; Shilad Sen/Flickr