Dinner Table

The table was the place where you and your family would sit at and talk.  Yeah……talk, you know, communication. Not too long ago, cell phones were suitcases and calling someone a twit was grounds to get fucked up, there was communication. One of the main places to have such communication was at the dinner table. The kids would get the silverware and placemats and place them on the table. Food is 10 minutes away from being done and the smells of spices and half-burned rice coming from the kitchen. Then when you heard "food's ready" you would push your kinfolk down a flight of stairs to get at the table first. No love lost, just a muhfucka hungry and need to eat. Then once everybody is at their seats, it's time to chow down.


While you busy smashing the food down you vaguely listen to the discussions of how school is boring and how mom and/or dad day at work was. Snickering as you're kicking your little brother or sister under the table then you feel that big heavy, hairy leg of your pops. This is code for "cut the shit out or get your ass beat with the cord." It was the kitchen table where after work, school, sports practice, band, etc. where the family would get together and talk because you don't really do much talking with the TV on.

………where are we now………

The table has been phased out. Families don't eat at the table no more. Shit, families don't even have home-cooked meals no more. Double fuck, the kitchen table has become a place to put your mail, newspapers, book bags, bra-and-panties, and wet socks. There's all this talk of the family structure is broken down to the point of non-existence. I'm not caring for all that, where the hell can I eat my microwaveable Stouffers Veal dinner at? You know where? Right in front of the muhfuckin TV. That's the new center of conversation. Don't have dinner made while "Modern Family" is on. You got to wait until commercial break, THEN, you better make it within' that 3 minutes Sofia Vergara finna show those titties and some ass. 

The table used to be the center place for the family gatherings, now it's the TV. Only time that table see any action is on Thanksgiving, funerals, 1st burfdays, sex, sex, anal sex, Crimmus, and maybe more sex. There's more cooking spray on the remote control then on that table. 

Next time you come home, after a long day at work. You ruffle through the kitchen for some boxed mac-n-cheese with spam and orange soda. Take notice to where you about to eat at and look at your table, full of old magazines and jackets hanging on the chairs. Then just think that "damn, I should clean that shit up so I can have sex on it."