I’ve decided that my Mom can never die because there is no way in hell that I’m sticking my hand into a slimy turkey cavity and potentially brushing up against its gobbling soul.
I’ve stuck my hands in a lot of gross things.
The one time when Chunky stuffed pieces of styrofoam up his nostrils.
That other time when I was a nurse and I was adjusting a patient’s head for CPR and my fingers slipped into his skull.
Yes, I touched his brain and it was fucking awesome.
Not for him.
God rest his soul.
And lots of rectums but don’t worry, I triple gloved.
Fisting a turkey is just not my thing.
I’ll watch my Mom jam her entire hand in there like she knows the bird, bought it dinner and wooed him with pureed corn drinks.
Little did that bird know that she had slipped him the crippler.
Now his carcass lays in a pool of ice in the kitchen sink.
That’s the shit you hear about in a woman’s bar bathroom.
“Did you hear about the girl who had a roofie dumped in her drink? The next day she woke up with one kidney? Watch your drinks. PS. Your vagina falls out every time you lift your leg to get onto a bar stool. And your titts look great in that top.”
Don’t you find it weird that the turkey organs come tucked in a nice neat baggie.
My Mom rips that shit out just like my ex did.
His name was Bart.
He popped my cherry and then tore my heart out of my chest when I found out that he had a girlfriend back home.
It’s ok though because I was always embarrassed to introduce him as Bart.
And I am sure that he was just as embarrassed about the size of his penis.
Didn’t think I would go there did you?
That’s what happens when you’re drunk as fuck.
You say things and pretend like you don’t remember that you had said it the next day.
I never do that.
There was this one time I tried to hook up with my friend from high school.
The party got busted by cops before I could make a move and we were told to go home.
Only I didn’t want to go home.
I begged the designated driver to drive around town. He kept saying no. So I started yelling, “You’re ruining my chances! You’re ruining my chances!”
The next day I swore that I never said that.
It’s become quite the little joke in our social circle.
Especially since the friend was actually gay.
Speaking of which, we all got together on Friday night.
I was pretty reserved that night, mostly because the noise was fucking with my anxiety.
So was the blue lightening drink.
I’m sure that my shit will come out looking green.
Ever have that happen to you?
Well anyways it’s day 3 on a drinking binge because it keeps my mind off of ramming my car into poles and other fond thoughts about life.
Oh and it’s Thanksgiving.
Weird isn’t it America?
So what am I thankful for?
And this asshole.
The other day Chunky said, “Jesus is all dead and stuff. And I coloured his beard. Is that creepy?”
And that my friends is what you get for sending your child to a Catholic school without teaching him anything about religion.
Anyways in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I would like to raise my glass to my Mom.
Because that woman can cook a turkey like a fucking boss.