Dear Amy,

It’s the holiday season, and that only means one thing: going back home to see my parents. Sure, finals are over, and I can finally get more than four hours of sleep on any given Tuesday night, but I can’t seem to find my sense of peace and cheer. Instead of dreaming of sugarplums, I’m dreaming of my Aunt Randi and her never-ending quest to figure out why I’m eternally single. It’s a nightmare. Do you have any tips for dealing with family over the break?

Happy holidays,

Hectic Hometown Holidays

Dear Hectic Hometown Holidays,

First, the perpetual reminder that this is a college humor magazine run by a gaggle of insecure comedians with parental issues as numerous as the day is long. It is, therefore, not a stable place to go for any sound advice on any topic, let alone family drama. However, out of the kindness of my heart and a total disregard for your well-being, I’ll provide you with the advice you seek. Shall we get started?

Below is a list of potential solutions to your holiday woes. Keep in mind that your specific situation could require additional holiday alterations.

1. Play the world’s longest game of hide and seek. It’s inevitable. As soon as you walk through that door, your younger cousins will want to hang out with their big bud, and their parents will be desperate to get the kids away so that they can have adult time. Instead of complaining about your status as a permanent member of the Kitty Table, take it in stride. Heartily agree to the annual cousins’ game of hide and seek. Just make sure you pick the best possible place to hide. Preferably one with Wi-Fi, an outlet, and enough food to survive the next few days. Bonus: You might get a Guinness World Record for your effort. Finally, something to combat Uncle Tommy’s ceaseless rants about making something of yourself.

2. Take a vow of silence. Your Great Aunt Cindy forces you to partake in the annual candlelight mass, so why not fight back with your own religious tradition: total and complete silence. You won’t be forced into awkward conversations about your post-graduation plans or asked about your opinion on the latest pitfall in Uncle Spencer’s long line of failed marriages. With a monastic vow of silence on your side, you’ll be allowed to judge quietly from the one spot on the couch that still has some give, distanced from the rest of the chaos around you. Just like you’ve always wanted.

3. Accidentally cause a grease fire. The same old recipes year after year just aren’t cutting it anymore. But hey, you’re a confident, new adult. Why don’t you try out your skills in the kitchen with a new recipe from the Bon Appétit Test Kitchen? And by “try out a new recipe from the Bon Appétit Test Kitchen” I mean burn it all down. After all, there’s no family dinner at Grandma’s if Grandma’s house is nothing more than a smoldering pile of bricks.

4. Send a fully-automated 3D printed clone of yourself to dinner instead. So far I’ve given you potential solutions for ways to get out of a family get together, but what if you never went in the first place? A 3D printed clone of yourself can handle all of the unwanted small talk as you sit happily in your bed watching the latest episode of Gourmet Makes with actual goddess Claire Saffitz. Just make sure you program phrases for the bot to say that are vague enough to work in multiple conversations but specific to your personality.

I hope one of these incredibly smart and helpful suggestions works for you Hectic Hometown Holidays. Now, if you need me, I’ll be rewatching the Finale of Bon Appétit’s Making Perfect Thanksgiving series in a turkey coma. Please direct any further questions or existential crises to thesundialmagazine@gmail.com or DM us on Instagram @thesundialosu. Look at that. Your cool comedy Aunt is finally up with the times.

Best,

An anonymous Sundial member whose name definitely won’t be in the byline

Written by Hannah Wagner, Senior Staff Member