Bird, Bird, Bird — Bird Is The Word

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!!  I hope your day will be full of love, laughs and whatever you want to eat. I admit, I might have chosen to just order Chinese food if I were back in the states. Thanksgiving prep is a ton of work, all to have everyone pass out from food comas about 45 minutes after eating. I digress . . .

You remember that 33lb turkey I was supposed to get? I was super pumped; it was going to be the turkey to end all turkeys. I wasn’t sure how it would fit in the oven or even how long it would need to be in the oven. Well, I am sad to say that there was a tragic accident with my Gino-turkey and what showed up were two smaller turkeys. (Combined they didn’t even match the requested weight of the Gino-turkey.)

I have some theories on what happened:

1. My turkey ran away, but in doing so, killed two of his rafter mates to make it look like he was kidnapped and there was some kind of struggle. I got the rafter mates.

2. My turkey won the Hunger Games, so we had to accept two of the other loser tributes.

3. My turkey went through mitosis.

4. My turkey threw himself in front of a truck, being flattened instantly. The farmer being traumatized from the unexpected death, bought two turkeys from a neighboring farmer because he didn’t want to put any more of his birds under any more undue stress.

I really have no idea what happened, but it was sad. It meant that I had a long day yesterday and had to stay up super late last night to cook the other turkey — which is fine really. It’s carved up so we can serve it to the kids while we cut up the other bird. Win-win, I guess.

You know what was NOT a win-win? Opening the bag to find that THE NECK WAS STILL ATTACHED! The insides were also STILL INSIDE IN THEIR PROPER POSITIONS. They just cut off the head, and pulled out the feathers then shoved it into a bag. I about died. In fact, I ran shrieking from the kitchen while my house full of family and friends laughed in glee.

Seriously, think back to theory number 1. This was a murder victim in a bag! (I’m sure PETA thinks all food is animal murder anyway, but shove off, PETA.)

Not right, not right at all

Not right; not right at all.


Someone else had to come in and finish making the turkey look like something I could work with. Meanwhile I sat in a corner rocking myself trying not to cry/throw up. I think I might be losing my touch in the kitchen. The Internal Captor is making me weak.

I raise my tumbler of juice (pretend wine) to the rest of you and hope your Thanksgivukkah goes without murdered-turkey incident.





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