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.
Puke.
Poop.
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.
For me.
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.
Kidding.
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?
These guys.
And this asshole.
And Jesus.
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.
Cheers.
Now I am adding you Mom to my prayers
Happy Turkeying…and Happy Thanksgiving.
Hugs to you, Kim. Love you!
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OMG i died here. I dont bake turkey so you’ll never get my hand up it’s ass. but a perdue roaster i’ll do. what freaks me out is when you’re washing it out, it’s the size of a baby. it feel like a baby. it feels like you’re bathing your kid. and now? you you’ve got to season your kid, bake em and eat em. and gripe if no one eats enough of em. sick isn’t it? happy thanksgiving darling. those boys are some handsome blessings
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I will never be able to stuff another turkey without thinking of you.
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I won’t lie. You almost lost me at the beginning with the turkey fisting. It makes me cringe just to think about it. Then someone once told me to butter the turkey, BETWEEN the skin and the meat. Like lifting the skin and rubbing butter in there, when raw. Gag vomit gag.
Please pass the blue drink. I’ll take green poo over turkey touching any day.
And Happy Thanksgiving! (And awesome Tigers shirt.) xo
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Happy Thanksgiving!
Well, you just put me off turkey for life.
My shit was green when I was consuming this alfalfa stuff. All freaky.
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Beets are the best. I was on a beet juice kick for a while. Brilliant red poop. I thought I was dying of some dread colonic disease.
Happy Thanksgiving with your handsome blessings and your turkey fisting mom!! xo
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I read your post after just having stuck a turkey in the oven and realized I never even bought him dinner!
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Wonder if Bart ever settled down.
Stayed faithful.
Hard to take a man with that name seriously.
Bet he hates the Simpsons
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Dude. I don’t even know what to say except I’ll never name my kid Bart and I’m hungry for turkey.
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I don’t go near turkey guts either. Never have.
And congratulations because you don’t have to eat “King Tut Turkey” this year! If you forget what this type of turkey is, look at last year’s Thanksgiving blog, or write to me -
xoxox
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Happy Thanksgiving. Love you lots! And lay off the drinks before you post so I don’t have to read about you touching people’s brains. ewww.
Still love you lots!
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I rarely handle raw meat at all anymore. And I have never stuck my hand up a turkey’s ass. Dead or living.
Happy Thanksgiving!
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You make me laugh because you are just so darn real. I LOATHE trying to clean that darn bird every year. Happy Thanksgiving and I’m a little jealous that you’ve already got the turkey done for the year
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You know, I’ve always wondered why they think I want to play with the turkeys neck. You don’t get the chickens neck when you buy a whole chicken. And then my husband gets all, “baby, I have something for you”, with the turkey neck. Yeah, good times.
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I’ve got to be honest, I’ve basically taken away from this blog an intense interest in knowing if spelling titts with 2 T’s is a Canadian thing, or a Kim thing. Happy T-day.
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I had my MIL prepare the turkey before she left, as the turkey was for MY side of the family. Bahaha.
It’s just so farking disgusting!
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I was almost laughing too hard to leave a comment. I HATE dealing with bird “carcasses”, be them turkey or chicken. I do it, but I hate it.
I love that asshole dog of yours – he’s gorgeous
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Happy Thanksgiving, darling. Thanks for the laugh! xoxo
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I read this while sober and decided to wait and comment while drunk. I’m just way more charming that way.
I will stuff your turkey for you anyyyytiiiime.
See? Charming.
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Know that I did things to a capon chicken that it will never forgive me for.
And I say, whatever gets you through the day girlie. Cheers and Happy Thanksgiving! xo
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I can’t stop myself from finding inappropriate words to rhyme with Bart. Smart is not one and I keep finding myself returning to fart (not like returning here to fart, although maybe I am farting YOU DON’T KNOW, but returning to the word fart. To say it with Bart because I’m sure Bart would HATE to hear anyone continuously say Farty Barty). Anyway. Yeah. Weird about your Thanksgiving. It’s not until next month, you know. You silly Canadians. Also, vodka. Lots. Inside of me. I hope it doesn’t come out green. I like turkey. I’ve had my hand in one and maybe, just maybe, only once, did I imagine putting its wing someplace naughty.
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I hate with a passion getting the insides of a turkey out. Believe it or not, I just close my eyes and do the deed. Like that helps..haha!
Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family.
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Awwww, happy Thanksgiving to you! Hope you’re having a wonderful holiday with friends/family. And thanks for this wonderful laugh this morning. I don’t think I could ever ram my hand up a turkey’s rear either. Thank god for tofurkey.
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“Not for him. God rest his soul.” That right there made my day.
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Only those of us in the medical field can touch a brain and be fascinated and yet get disgusted by things like turkey cavities and clicking jaws and crepitus. Happy Thanksgiving!!
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I can’t believe your hand slipped and you touched a guy’s brain!!! I love stuffing but I never put it in the chicken or turkey. Not sure why….. I have no trouble ripping out the bag of guts and I especially don’t mind if I have gloves on, so I don’t know why I don’t stuff the bird. Entertaining post!
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You are one silly girl and that’s why I love you.
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