This Thanksgiving you can count on a wild ride of juicy chisme, delicious food, and LOTS of Chente. Here’s how it goes down…
1. Waking up to the sound of cumbias and the smell of Fabuloso.
You already know what’s in store for you: hours of cleaning.
2. After cleaning it’s, “tía said we could play in here.”
— Orlando 🍂 (@Abelsxoxo) June 29, 2016
The party doesn’t officially start until your primos take over your room and undo all of the cleaning you did all morning.
3. The hunger games.
Hungry Latinos do not mess around. Everyone is all dressed up to only sit in la sala, it’s nearing 8 o’clock, and the food is finally ready. “Los niños primero” is more of a suggestion than a rule, right? Best believe abuela and the tías are keeping a close eye on your primo’s new girlfriend, who hasn’t made him a plate even though his own legs and arms work perfectly fine. Haters gon’ hate, chismosas gon’ chismear.
4.“¿Y el novio?”
Like death and taxes, there’s no escaping this age-old question. Legend has it that you can buy some time with a line like, “I’m just really focusing on school right now,” but be warned that they will follow with a list of other questions about your career, school, and general life plan.
OR hit them with the “¿cuál de todos?” clapback 😈.
5. The point of no “Volver, Volver.”
When you tell your Tio Vicente Fernandez retired from performances. pic.twitter.com/zSf2886PE7
— alex (@AlexTheGreat1_) April 26, 2016
As the sun starts to sets and the tequila enters your tío’s bloodstream, everyone’s inner-Chente comes out. He embarks on his tear-filled and tequila-fueled karaoke rendition of “El Rey.” Your tía will stick it to the one that got away with some Jenni, and whoever is brave enough to take on JuanGa’s “Amor Eterno” will have anyone in the room who has a mom, in tears.
6. UFC: Drunk Tio Edition.
As your tías and abuela go inside to continue the chisme, los tíos are usually found in the backyard finishing their Coronas. All is well until something is brought up (usually that “something” took place a decade ago at the very least) and it’s time to grab the popcorn or un tamal from the plate you hid in the kitchen.
7. The (eternal) goodbye process.
When you have a ginormous family, exiting the party is no easy task. It gets late, chisme has slowed and eyes are dropping low, but as soon as you get up to say goodbye, your mom says something that reminds your tía of something that reminds her of another thing. Soon enough you realize that abuela has poured her 11th cup of coffee and you’ll sit there for another hour. Get comfortable, no one leaves only saying goodbye once.
8. No leftover left behind.
Just when you think you’re home free, if abuela notices you’re not walking out with an armful of leftovers, there will be hell to pay…or rather, you’ll just be waiting for another 45 minutes while she packs enough leftovers to sustain you until the next holiday. Don’t forget the margarine tub that’s actually filled with frijoles.
9. The morning after.
No Latino family party is over until everyone gathers once more to eat some caldo to soothe la cruda.
Latino parties are loud, long events that you’ll probably walk out 15 pounds heavier than you walked in. No matter the chisme we talk or how many times we taunt each other with “quiere llorar, quiere llorar,” we wouldn’t have it any other way. 💗