It's November and there are two things on everyone's mind, that being: how close is Thanksgiving and who is going to be our next President?

If you think about it, the Election and Thanksgiving dinner are a lot alike, we feel thankful because we get the right to vote, but we're also dreading who is showing up to dinner (or our presidential options in this case).

Prepping for both of these is extensive, it takes research. Who is bringing what to the table, who is the better cook that should be in charge, what is going to be the most beneficial for my family?

Then it's assigning duties and making sure we are on the RSVP list and registered to attend this Holiday dinner.

Next is the big day, we've cast our bets on who is going to be the first to offend someone, mine is always on racist Uncle Donald (we all have that one family member). We wait on Aunt Hillary to walk in the door with a new pantsuit, she's always late because she gets distracted looking through her emails.

Once everyone arrives, we all sit down after our hugs, hellos, and small talk, and we are ready to feast. Our parents worked so hard to make this happen. Grandpa Gary makes the same jokes every year, "the food looks so good it could give me a heart attack". While the "kid's" table is still filled with the millennials who don't even care about the day or what it means, damn kids.

Throughout this dinner, we pray and give thanks, and talk about things that are wildly inappropriate for a family gathering. Uncle Bill is everyone's favorite to sit by because he's the cool uncle, while no one really knows how Aunt Melania ended up in this family.

In the middle of the dinner we get a knock from our neighbors, what a delight! The Obamas stop by every year with open arms, a dessert, and their best pal, Joe. They make themselves at home and join the crowd, though we don't love the Obamas as neighbors, we love them as people and are glad that they stop by.

After a fantastic meal, lots of laughter, and more tongue biting, we sit around the TV for a good game of football and an even better nap. Aunt Hill collects the leftovers to give it to the less fortunate (even though Mom practically cooked the whole meal by herself — and it's not Aunt Hillary's job to just give it away), while Uncle Donald tells the rest of the family that they are wrong for their game day predictions.

An uncomfortable terrorist joke, a nap, and a few arguments later, the rest of us normal family members sit around stuffed and quietly thinking about how we still have 4 more hours of this, at least.