Let me tell y’all about Thanksgiving. This is the first year that I didn’t fly home for this holiday, and although I missed my family I definitely had an eventful time at home.
This was also my first year teaching somewhere that we got off the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. It made my break seem a week longer than what I’m used to.
Anyways, a majority of my break was spent binge watching “How To Get Away With Murder” with Tay on our couch, playing Madden 16 on the xbox while relaxing in my indoor hammock, and preparing to cook on Sunday for A Crew Thanksgiving. For those who don’t know, the Z Crew is comprised of myself, Cindy, Laura, and Tay…Laura’s nickname LGz sparked us to all refer to ourselves in the same manner – CTz, MTz, CCz, and LGz.
Our first Thanksgiving in the lovely Taylor Haus of Ill Repute consisted of a ridiculous amount of cheese especially when 2 of the 4 of us try not stay away from large amounts of dairy. Hell, I drink almond milk nowadays with my cereal. I think there were around 3 pounds of cheese in the Mac and cheese. My gods, it was perfect though.
Turkey. I touched a naked, raw, turkey. If it were up to me, that damn thing would have worn a sweater. I hate the feeling of raw meat and poultry. I’m gagging thinking of it, right now. If you’re lucky, I’ll post the video of me cleaning (or trying to) out the naked bastard. It went like this….
Taylor: come on, sweets, time to clean the turkey out, I can’t do it with one hand.
Give it some colace, or mag citrate, that’ll clear it out.
Me: okay, I’m coming.
Tay: you have to get the gizzards out, and the neck.
Me: wait… What? I didn’t sign up for turkey innards.
The next five minutes were me staring at this giant 16lb bird, poking it occasionally, gagging constantly.
Why didn’t we get turkey breasts, like my mom said? Why do I have this giant bird, naked and slimy in my sink, for four people?
Taylor wouldn’t stop laughing at my meager attempts to unhook the legs of the turkey from one another to really do much else, so Laura came to the kitchen to help. She informed me that the legs were bound by skin from the turkey that was stretched to make the legs stay closed.
Me: wait, what? Skin? I don’t do skin.
Laura: Move, let me do it.
I stood back in horror as my hero dismantled the turkeys bondage skin and removed gizzards…IN A PACKAGE.
I watched Laura and hummed Adam Sandler’s turkey song…couldn’t remember all the words but the comic relief helped in my head.
Me: how they going to do that? Take things out, package them, and stick them back in and close it up with SKIN? twine wouldn’t work?
Next thing I know, I enter back into the kitchen to see Laura remove the neck…which looks like a thing I won’t mention, in the unlikely case that you have virginal angelic eyes. Let’s just say, I screamed. Maybe not outloud but on the inside I was terrified of the turkey…thing…that was just pulled from the turkey’s butt, or what exactly had I been reaching into?
You know what, I can tell I’m not mature enough for this, and that this turkey diatribe is going no where it needs to. Wait for the video.