It was a dark and stormy night. Rain pounded. Wind howled. And you glorious bastards showed up anyway. This is why we love you.

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THE GRATITUDE PORTION (Where We Pretend to Be Nice)

​First, a standing ovation for Theresa, who kept this party from descending into complete chaos. You were a godsend. An angel. Our savior in stretchy pants.

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To Toby and Edward, who transformed the garage into a luxurious lounge so fancy we forgot we were standing next to Brian's leaf blower. Stunning work, gentlemen.

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Georgia, your snow globe backdrop was perfection. We felt like we were inside a Hallmark movie, except with way more wine and trash talk.

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To my baby sister Nettie: Watching you DJ from your celestial perch was like watching a conductor lead an orchestra of drunk people eating carbs. Magnificent. You brought the party energy we didn't know we needed but absolutely deserved. Rain? What rain? We couldn't hear it over your sick beats.

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To our incredible support team: Ben the Bartender, who kept the drinks flowing and the guests upright (mostly), and Jay and Dahlia, who worked tirelessly to keep this beautiful disaster moving forward. You're the real MVPs.

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Special shoutout to Grumpa Jamie, who washed dishes ALL NIGHT and into the following morning like an absolute legend. You are a saint among mortals.

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And to Brian and the kids, who spent the last few days setting up while I barked orders like a deranged party tyrant. I love you. I couldn't have done this without you. Now clean the kitchen.

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TO OUR SLEEPOVER GUEST (You Know Who You Are)

As Brian and I clipped down the curtains in the garage at some ungodly hour, there was a rustle under the fur blankets. We watched in slow motion as that person slid off the couch and fell onto the floor. Luckily, all the pillows cushioned the fall. You rockstar, you left at 6 AM like nothing happened.

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And the red wine all over the couch and fur rug? Iconic! I feel like I hosted a celebrity event at the Chateau Marmont. Impressive work.

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THE CARNAGE: BY THE NUMBERS

Let's talk about what we consumed, shall we?

• 28 bottles of wine (and that's just what we counted)

• 14 bottles of champagne (we fancy)

• 3 bottles of vodka

• 2 bottles of gin

• 1 bottle of tequila

• A QUARTER BOTTLE OF ABSINTHE (who brought this and why)

• 1 bottle of bourbon

• 2 six-packs of beer

• 3 bottles of Martinelli's (for the three responsible people)

• 4 mocktails (adorable)

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And the food? Oh, the glorious food:

• 11 cranberry sauces

• 12 desserts

• 30 POUNDS OF TURKEY

• 8 side dishes

• 6 stuffings

• 6 mashed potato entries

• Plus a charcuterie platter, artichoke dip, bread, and crackers

You are all absolute BEASTS.

 

THE WINNERS (And the Drama)

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STUFFING: Brian "The Eagle" Hansen

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After over a DECADE of trying, Brian finally won. I'm not saying he bribed the judges, but I wasn't the only one shocked that I lost. Congratulations, honey. Your victory is suspicious, but documented.

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MASHED POTATOES: Jamie "The Forager" Desieyes

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NOBODY saw this coming. Mushrooms? In mashed potatoes?? Pure mad genius. Jamie came in hot with the fungus energy and CRUSHED the competition. Respect.

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SIDE DISH: Anne Clunan

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In a STUNNING upset, Anne won with a cold roasted vegetable salad with pomegranates. Yes, you read that right. COLD. At Thanksgiving. And it WON. The audacity. The brilliance. The sheer chaos of it all. We're not mad, we're impressed.

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 CRANBERRY SAUCE: Cranky Cran

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This was THE upset of the night. Brian has won this category EVERY. SINGLE. YEAR. Until now. With a record-breaking 11 cranberry sauces competing (unheard of), the competition was absolutely brutal. And Cranky Cran emerged victorious while Brian… well, let’s just say it was a disaster of a showing for the reigning champion. Highly competitive doesn’t even begin to describe it. Congratulations, Cranky Cran. You dethroned a legend.

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DESSERT: Nana the Duchess of Dessert ( Ann Whittington)

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After the Great Flan Catastrophe of 2019 (we'll never forget, we'll never let it go), Nana came ROARING back with a pumpkin cheesecake and caramel sauce that made grown adults weep. A stunning comeback. A redemption arc for the ages. The Duchess reclaims her throne.

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TO THE RUNNERS-UP

You know who you are. You came close. You tasted glory. And then it was cruelly snatched away by mushroom mashed potatoes and a COLD SALAD.

You have one year to perfect your revenge. One year to plot. One year to show us what you're really made of.

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The gauntlet has been thrown. The bar has been raised.

See you next year, you beautiful, competitive, wine-soaked legends.

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The feast is over. The trash talk lives on...