Pass the wine. Please.
Sure, I’ll have a little nibble.
Stop belching in your brother’s face.
Stop slapping your sister.
Stop filling up the dining room with farts.
Oh my God napkin.
Not your sleeve.
THIS IS AN OCCASION.
Pass the wine.
Yes, DEFINITELY seconds on those mashed potatoes.
There’s already butter in them, eh?
Please pass the butter.
No, Trump doesn’t have a valid point.
No, Ben Carson doesn’t have a valid point either.
NO ONE AT THIS TABLE HAS A VALID POINT.
I AM NOT SHOUTING.
Just a refill on the wi—thank you.
You can’t force your whole vegetarian thing on everyone today.
No, you can’t.
Seriously, stop saying meat is murder.
Okay fine, technically it is. Just stop saying it.
You can say it after everyone’s done eating. I don’t even care anymore.
Pass the—oh, duh, it’s right next to me, thanks for pointing that out ha ha ha ha.
What did THAT mean?
No really, what was that supposed to mean?
Uh, yeah, I’ll take some cookies. And some more wine—yes, thank you. Right to the top.
Oopsie, sorry, I forgot I was wearing a skirt.
Has anyone seen my phone?
Has anyone seen my kids?
Illustration by Allison Ross