The Ghost of the Arctic Turkey Past

For today’s Moronic Monday I am dragging out this oldie but goodie from the past.  Hope you enjoy.

Against my better judgement I bothered to get out of my pajamas and actually went to the store to buy a turkey.

There are a few problems with buying a turkey on the night before Thanksgiving.

#1- You know you will have issues thawing it

#2- There might be a limited selection

#3- combine 1 and 2 and you get holy craptastic bird day folks they only have hypothermic birds that a only second mortgage can purchase and they aren’t available in any store located in my state.

so for your math people that’s  1+2= your screwed. ( there may or may not be a test )

I finally at the 3rd store found a bird but it cost more than my vehicle. I kept looking,  store number 4 was a waste of time but I got a twix bar and mt dew  to  rejuvenate me in battle, because they were straight up out of double mocha latte Valium.  The 5th store I found a bird, although he was roughly frozen to the solidity state of a cannon ball he was less than the cost of a bionic arm so I bought him.  But not before I dropped him and actually cracked the tile on the supermarket floor.  Sorry about that unnamed store that was me.  Well actually it was your bird and therefore your bad.    I blame you since you should have had it somewhat thawed by Thanksgiving eve your a bunch of shatards and obviously deserve broken floor tile.

So by 6pm I am home with a bird that there is no hopes of thawing and cooking for 1pm feast in just 17 hours.   Panic + Vodka = Epiphany. ( that is math question number 2, well sort of, it’s a word problem but it has math symbols so I guess it’s higher math or something.)

I threw the bird in the hot tub and turned on the jets.  I sat and watched him spin head over nubby little would be feet and figured I would drain then bleach and possibly burn the hot tub afterwards.  See I have this aversion to poultry.  Kind of like my aversion to bugs.  If I see a bug I will go to any lengths to make sure it and anything it touched pays dearly. With poultry, I have to bleach repeatedly anything that could have touched it, or throw it away.

I wasn’t sure if it would work. Would this sexy hunk of arctic poultry thaw. Would it reach a temperature that bred some bacteria that would send us all to the ICU with some funky butt explosion disease?  Was I going to run out of Vodka before this damn bird finished spinning missing head over butt ?

So the long and short.  It worked, the Turkey was tender, and juicy and yummy. In the culinary world it would have been described as very relaxed. But wouldn’t you be after 5 hours in the hot tub?

It was cooked and served on time.  I was thankful that my family through all their years of faining eye rolls and acting like they hated my tradition actually wanted and expected it.  I was Thankful that I was physically capable of gathering and making Thanksgiving dinner.  I spent Thanksgiving bleaching the hot tub and being Thankful I had found a stinking turkey and had a hot tub to thaw the damn thing out in.  I also found it’s spinning very hypnotizing, or it could have been the vodka, not sure.

So go forth and win the epic battle of Monday knowing your not alone in your journey of suck, you are in good company.  Me and my Local news.. Ok partially good company.

XO

PEACH OUT