Rejected Stuff You May or May Not Read

Here's a piece that no one published last year and will never find a home, just like that kid at the orphanage you could adopt, but won't. Happy Holidays!


A Daily Recap of Thanksgivukkah 2013

Day One:

Laugh and tell coworker, Brenda, that no, you haven’t heard of the phrase Thanksgivukkah before, but that’s a really clever description of this year’s cross-cultural event. Did she think of it herself? Well, it’s still pretty hilarious anyway. Wow, once every 70,000 years? Thank Brenda for bringing it to your attention. Do not mention that three other coworkers explained Thanksgivukkah to you in the past hour. After work, light menorah alone at home.

Day Two:

Cook latkes for the first time in five years. Burn yourself and the latkes with cooking oil. Bring burnt latkes to Thanksgivukkah potluck at coworker’s house. Explain second degree burn on your hand to Brenda, laugh with her politely. Agree with her that her turkey is wonderful. Decide not to explain how much easier it is to simply shove a turkey the size of Brenda’s fat ass in an oven for two hours. Listen to coworkers explain Thanksgivukkah again. Wow, once every 70,000 years? No, you haven’t heard that before. After Thanksgivukkah potluck, light menorah alone at home. Be proud you remembered to light it two nights in a row.

Day Three:

Thank coworkers for potluck dinner. Tell Brenda you are sorry that the latkes’ oil gave her heartburn. Don’t mention her cornbread stuffing gave you the runs all morning. Explain the significance of latkes for the second time to coworkers who definitely heard you at last night’s potluck. After work, find five-year-old bottle of Manischewitz in your closet. Play drunk dreidel at home alone. You may or may not have remembered to light the menorah.

Day Four:

Wake up with Manischewitz hangover. Spend most of your Saturday nursing hangover. Go to Waffle House. Order a double serving of bacon with your All Star Breakfast. Run into goddamn Brenda while buying Advil at Walgreen’s. Tell her your hand is fine. Agree that, yes, it is an interesting shade of purple. No, you don't think a doctor is necessary. No, that wasn’t you across the street at Waffle House eating bacon earlier. Spend two hours at home searching for misplaced menorah from last night. Can’t find menorah. Finish bottle of Manischewitz.

Day Five:

Wake up clutching menorah. Don’t remember finding it. Hand looks worse. Spend most of day at ER waiting to be seen by doctor. Tell doctor you burnt your hand cooking latkes. Explain latkes. Explain Hanukkah. Explain that yes, you’ve heard of fucking Thanksgivukkah. Doctor does not prescribe pain meds for hand. Tell him where he can shove his prescription pad. Step on dreidel while walking into your living room. Light menorah at home alone.

Day Six:

Four coworkers ask you if it is still Hanukkah. Tell them, yes, it is still Hanukkah. Explain bandage on hand to Brenda. Tell her that, yes, you should have followed her advice and seen a doctor earlier. Yes, you won’t be more stubborn next time. No, you weren’t worried about the cost of the doctor’s visit. Yes, you understand she didn’t mean that to sound so “anti-Jew.” Seriously, you understand. Of course you’ll forgive her. Please stop crying. After work, light menorah at home alone.

Day Seven:

Find out from five coworkers that Brenda feels “just awful” about what she said yesterday. No, you aren’t offended. Yes, you would tell them if you were. To lighten the mood, joke that the ER was expensive, but you Jew-ed them down on the price. Coworkers blush and excuse themselves. Later, see Brenda round the corner down the hall. Quickly duck into men’s restroom nearby. Hit bandaged hand on door. Interrupted by carolers after work while lighting menorah at home alone. Explain that, no, you don’t plan on putting up Christmas lights. No, you don’t celebrate Christmas. Ask if it’s a bit early to be caroling. Why? Because the Devil frowns upon it, you say, slamming the door.

Day Eight:

Swelling on hand dissipates. Find note on desk upon arriving to work. Goddamn Brenda. Note reiterates how awful she feels about her “hateful words on the day prior.” Note explains she knows “how it must be difficult practicing your faith in a Christian society.” Note closes with her hopes to “rekindle our friendship like the Jewish mannorah (ha ha!)” and that she hopes you’ll bring some more “delicious lotkees” to work soon. At home, make new batch of latkes for work. Don’t burn them this time, but add extra cooking oil. Light menorah. Watch “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”

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Hello there, my approximately 3-4 readers!

I'm real happy to share an essay I wrote about my time living in Oxford, Mississippi alongside a cavalcade of comedic, classy comrades. I get pretty wasted in it, too, so there's that. Hope you enjoy it, and be sure to read everything else The Bitter Southerner has published over the last few months. They're doing some great work.

Bass Drum of Death Hates You




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