Just because you'll be completely alone on the Lower East Side tomorrow, without friends, family, or food doesn't mean you don't matter. Here's a Thanksgiving schedule for those left behind in Manhattan:

Thursday
10:00 a.m. Get up enthusiastically and go to step class at Crunch on Lafayette.
10:50 a.m. Stare at self in mirror of empty Crunch locker room. Say, "I am still fat" out loud. Run away when fellow lonely person emerges from toilet stall.
11:30 a.m. Go back to bed. Think about all your ex-lovers and how happy they are.
12:45 p.m. Rummage idly through the near-empty liquor bottles under the sink. Consolidate vaguely similar types of booze.
2:00 p.m. Go see Duck, You Sucker at the Film Forum. Cheer up briefly as you remember Thanksgiving is an imperialist blood-sucking white-people holiday that the Man uses to keep you down.
4:40 p.m. Go back to bed. Think about how glad you are not to be in Wisconsin.
4:50 p.m. Scroll through cell phone numbers. Missing, out of town, gone, missing, out of town, moved away... Wait, John who? Was that that drunk guy from that bar on Avenue B two weeks ago? Wonder how all these people ended up in your cell.
5:20 p.m. Go out for slice of pizza. Pizza guy makes turkey pizza joke. Consider stabbing him.
5:40 p.m. Ponder helping people at like a homeless shelter or something.
6:11 p.m. Start reading last week's New Yorker.
6:12 p.m. Start drinking in earnest. Heh. Wild Turkey. That's like turkey! Yah...
7:50 p.m. Drunk-dial high school friends that you never talk to anymore.
9:45 p.m. Pass out in bed with burning cigarette.
9:50 p.m. Get woken up by hot firemen breaking down the door with an ax to extinguish your wildly blazing apartment.
10:30 p.m. Call your mommy. Boozily tell her everything's fine.
11:10 p.m. Play Nintendo alone in the dark in your smoky wrecked apartment.
Friday
9:00 a.m. Go back to work.

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