To the person whose father-in-law insists on playing the Pull My Finger game with you all day on Thanksgiving: Pull it just a little too hard. Like, just make the knuckle crack a little and twist it. Do it fast and then say, “Oh my God, I don’t know my own strength!”
To the person whose sister is already wasted and weeping about how mom always liked you better and it’s only noon: Roofie her. It’s for her own good.
To the person whose mother is basically Martha Stewart and who just burned the turkey and made mashed potatoes the consistency of Elmer’s Glue: Order Chinese and drink a 40 in the basement when no one is looking. It’s going to be okay. Happy Thanksgiving.