Let's revisit the Let's Be a Lesbian Thanksgiving threads!

The ,✨ original ✨

And the extra crispy!

They're serving turkey

but I smell fish

We need a television or streaming producer to mine the two threads for gold and turn it into a live action comedy!

"I said let ME carve!"

I'm the abundance of wristbands.

I’m the LL Bean flannel table cloth that resists spills.

That’s a nice pic. Gays and lesbians were much happier then they are today. Believe me. By far. All the gay rights in the world can’t equal the happiness and contentment gays and lesbians had back then.

R8 that pic is (allegedly) from the 1940s.

That photo, OP, is dyke-a-licious!

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

They all have grapefruit halves with maraschino cherries, but the Turkey is being carved and they’re drinking champagne. What kind of lesbian ritual is this?

I’ll count how many times lesbians are called “d-kes” in this thread.

I'm the oyster stuffing.

I'm the timely Beaver Moon.

I am curious what sort of Thanksgiving meals were served in the 1940s that would feature grapefruits as a starter.

Broiled grapefruit glazed w. brown sugar & a maraschino cherry in the middle. Quite exotic & elegant at the time.

The broiled grapefruit might be mashed sweet potatoes served in orange (or grapefruit) halves. My old in-laws used to do something like that for Thanksgiving. Ungodly sweet with a maraschino cherry on top.

I'm cilantro, tossed outside in a blind rage by MoJo.

Can anyone give more info about the photo? I've never seen it before.

Second woman from the right is a dead ringer for k.d. lang.

This a variation of what R18 mentions: sweet potatoes in orange cups, topped with melted marshmallow instead of cherry. Looks tasty to me.

This is where it comes from, r20

I’m the dyke boot with tent dust.

There were 7 lesbians in Wyoming in the 1940s?

[quote]R8 Gays and lesbians were much happier then they are today… All the gay rights in the world can’t equal the happiness and contentment gays and lesbians had back then.

Yes, they all just loved being fired when their pictures were printed in the papers after a bar was raided.

I'm the Gay couple next store who come over to save the day.... "Ladies, this isn't a fishing trip, where's the *good* china?"

[quote]I'm the Gay couple next store

Oh dear...

^ Bite me, you fat fingered fool

I'm the soft butch sous chef. No one better criticize my prep skills.

I’m the 100lb dogs on the couch

I love the photo OP- the old lady at the end of the table has clearly stated her boundaries.

I am the baby dyke grooving to the one song she was allowed to play for the gathering, "You Stupid Bitch" by girl in red, while my elders wait with pursed lips for Viv to take over Spotify again and play her Indigo Girls mix.

I'm Kim. I arrived via Uber and loudly and pre-emptively explained as I blew in the door that the '97 Subaru is 'in the shop.'

In reality, my license has been suspended again, for another DUI.

I'm the cat hair in the mashed potatoes.

I'm a hostess gift of Turning Leaf White Zinfandel, festively packaged in the plastic bag from the liquor store. I am immediately opened and decanted into various tumblers held by various hangnailed hands.

We're the Elizabeth Warren, "I've Heard Enough From Old, White Men," and HRC bumper stickers on the 2016 Subaru Outback in the driveway.

Someone is going to get scissored after dinner.

I’m the late arrival who jokes “someone left their Subaru’s lights on,” inadvertently causing everyone to get up and check.

Suburus are referred to as "Lesbarus"

I'll have pie for desert.

^^ dessert

I'm the Trump target practice out back.

I'm the flannel. I will not be ignored.

I'm the humor checked at the door, along with the Keen hiking boots

Lmao, r34.

K.J.: "I brought dessert!"

Dana: "Not funny! *hee-hee*"

These are the Polynesian bookends atop a cabinet holding 3 to 5 year old magazines about camping, women's sports, lesbian cruises, herbal gardening, and building birdhouses.

[quote]These are the Polynesian bookends atop a cabinet holding 35 year old magazines about camping, women's sports, lesbian cruises, herbal gardening, and building birdhouses.

FTFY.

I am Tofurky, bought by Gin at the Co-Op for the many vegan and vegetarian guests.

Those guests will fill up on sliced Pepperidge Farm white bread with Earth Balance vegan margarine, Thel's "signature" carrots and parsnips, mashed potatoes, and pie. Anything to avoid me. At the end of the evening, I will be approximately 1/15th eaten.

The cat and dog refuse me and I am not compostable.

Guess who I am bringing to Thanksgiving dinner, Noreen?

I'm the memory of Thanksgiving 20 years ago. Because ever since, the drinking starts at 9 am, the joints are passed at noon, the shouting starts at 2, and the dramatic exits begin at 4.

See everyone again next year!

I am the smell of cat hair, cat litter, cat piss and Febreeze, I am ubiquitous...

I'm the composting toilet- and I'm stating my boundaries!

I'll be the ongoing topic of conversation about how the world would be better without men. How much they hate men, particularly gay men.

6 out of 7 lesbians are SMILING at once in the photo. Must be some sort of record.

[quote]r54 I'm the composting toilet- and I'm stating my boundaries!

1.) are those better for the environment? I’ve always thought emptying sewage into the sea was a bit skeevy.

2.) do they hate men?

Some lesbians do, most don't. They just don't want to sleep with them.

[quote] 6 out of 7 lesbians are SMILING at once in the photo.

Don't confuse smiling for baring their teeth in rage.

Must have music.

Yes Sir, I Can Boogie.

R59 that's true. We have no idea what horrible thing was said right before the photo flash went off.

Need some Alicia Bridges.....

I am the raised forks for the first bite, interruped by the stentorian voice of Thel, who intones, "Sistren, I would like to dedicate this meal to the memory of the indigenous Womyn whose blood was shed by our criminal forefathers, who stole the very land we are sitting on today."

Muttered assent from the hungry crowd follows. As forks are picked up again, Thel stands and states, "May we continue to labor for justice for all Womyn, past and future, so that the spirits of the First Peoples whose stolen land we plunder may find us worthy."

I’m the pilgrim buckle boot, flared jeans, and Goodwill shirt pulled over pot belly

I am the baleful phrase, "What's [italic]that[/italic] supposed to mean?"

I’m the vegan who refuses to eat the killed Turkey. I stand in protest. How dare you MF’s.

I am the gym teacher that needs to leave early to practice her tennis swing.

I am the Mother of the lesbian that tries to do her makeup so the rest of the family does not know she is a lesbian. Can’t my daughter just wear a Dolly Parton wig to make her shaved head go away. I’ll be damned if the rest of the family sees how butch my daughter has become.

Im the lipstick lesbian cousin of Liz. I would never show up anywhere in flannel

I am the political fire starter trash talking lesbian who definitely will be heard. Life is so unfair for us Lezzos.

I’m Big Ann and that pathetic little wooden folding chair in OP’s pic is sure as hell not gonna hold me.

Hiya ladies,

I've been out in the desert all day. I's mighty hungry and ready fo' some munchin'

I'm your hair and I look good for being out in the desert all day.

I'm the death stare when JayDee sees someone toss a can into the compostibles bin (there are 5 different waste receptacles- each clearly marked).

I am a copied portrait of a young Eleanor Roosevelt hanging in the foyer.

I'm Minge, fresh off my turn at the vegan protest 🪧

When a group of us visited Lindsey Graham's Senate Office six years ago to promote women's issue, he provided Harriet his signature. She keeps it in her scrapbook. She brought the scrapbook to the dinner to show her friends all the memorabilia she has collected in her women's advocacy work.

That looks like "Joan Miro", almost.

The smell of vaginal yeast infection.

I am the phone, face down on the table, that vibrates insistently during dinner. Bev picks me up and Marge looks over to see the caller's name: FUCKING SHITHEAD.

Bev mutters an angry "fuck you," quickly silences me, and puts me face down again.

On the other end of the line, Bev's ex-husband gently explains to her 7-year-old son that Mommy is probably working today, and he's sure she would have wished us both a happy Thanksgiving if she'd been able to pick up.

Aw that's sad r80 😕

I’m the Thanksgiving table chairs where the fat lesbians sit their fat ass. Their pussy definitely stinks.

I'm the boundaries.... and I have been CROSSED!

I am the can of Glade air freshener in the bathroom. I am almost empty now.