Wednesday, November 23, 2011

A Watched Turkey Doesn't Thaw

The Day of Thanks is fast approaching and I was all prepared to write a post about all the things I'm thankful for, but then I had a panic attack so now you get this.

I have no idea what "this" will be but I'm pretty sure at the end you will either feel drunk, confused or want to bash your head into a wall.

Good luck.

Why exactly did I have a panic attack?  No good reason other than my brain hates me.

And also?

I lost my list.

The list that had every detail of Thanksgiving Day planned to the very second.

11:00 a.m. chop apples
11:04 a.m. wonder if apples are all the same size
11:07 a.m. panic cuz one apple slice is slightly smaller than the others
11:08 a.m. eat the smaller slice, glancing around nervously hoping that no one will notice.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly like that, but it was my guide to the Best Thanksgiving Evah!!

I prepared it over a month of ago.  Had my menu planned.  My shopping list ready, items listed by category and order of navigation through grocery store.  There was my "A" shopping list and my "B" shopping list.  And my recipes and the order of cooking each dish.  And for how long and in which pan the dish would be cooked.  And in which pan the dish would be served.

On any given day there are 27 dishes in my sink, 14 pairs of shoes scattered throughout the house, bras hanging from the banister and the ceiling fan and the chandeliers, laundry ev-ery-where, but when it comes to a party? I organize the shit out of it.  There is a plan.  A carefully constructed plan and NO ONE CAN DEVIATE FROM IT!

But then I lost the f*cking list and all hell broke lose in my mind.

Also?  For the last day or so I've been all, "hey I should thaw the turkey. i think it's time to start thawing the turkey. look! the turkey's frozen, I'm going to thaw it."  But then?  I just didn't.

So on top of my brain telling me I was a total f*ck up who should just do everyone a favor and throw herself over the balcony, the f*cking turkey is still f*cking frozen.  Like a lot.

You probably expect that that literally sent me over the edge of a cliff, but honestly?  The same thing happened last year and everything was fiiiiiine. 

You know what else happened last year?  I got to experience the joy of yanking a turkey's neck out its ass.

I'm sure you're all saying yeah yeah, we all do that.  big deal.

Yes, but as you were yanking and pulling and twisting and yanking and turning because the turkey's rectal cavity or chest cavity or whatever cavity was still kinda frozen making the neck stuck to the roof of said cavity, think that just maybe you weren't yanking on the turkey's neck, but um...its...er...um...I'm not really sure how to say this so I'm just going to say it really fast  IfeltlikeIwastuggingontheturkey'swiener.  Honestly you guys, I don't know what's more traumatic, yanking a turkey's neck out its ass or a turkey that has a 12 inch wiener.

The husband stood by providing moral support while I screamed "I FEEL LIKE I'M TUGGING ON HIS WIENER!  I FEEL LIKE I'M TUGGING ON HIS WIENER!" and did this weird hoppy squirmy dance thing and my hand literally started to freeze because I WOULD NOT let go of the wiener.  I mean neck.  When I finally pulled it free I wanted to do a victory dance, cry, and throw up all at the same time.

It was not the best of times ya'll.  And guess what?  I'm only hours from doing that again.  Only this time, the husband won't be there.  Which means, TWITTER, that when I started twatting about 12 inch frozen turkey wieners in a slightly hysterical tone, you better f*cking be there.

I apologize if you are offended by the obsessive use of the f*ck word in this post, but before you judge me, you try spending five minutes inside my brain in the throes of a panic attack and tell me if "shuckydarn" will cut it.  I assure you, it won't.

I did manage to find my list tonight and have spent the last three hours forcing my heart to return to a normal steady beat.  The tablecloth and napkins have been ironed.  The table has been set.  The fridge is organized.  The baking dishes and pots are arranged in order of use, the serving plates have been assigned, the kitchen is ready for a flurry of cooking activity and the turkey. is still. frozen.

What's your favorite Thanksgiving dish?  Mine's a bottle of Xanax and a glass of wine.  Gobble Gobble!

 

16 comments:

  1. Favorite Thanksgiving dish? Watching my mother down a pitcher of Cosmos, by herself, and end up in the bathroom praying to the Porcelain God before dessert can be served.

    Good times. Good times.

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  2. I, too, would be cursing up a storm if I lost my Thanksgiving planning list. I solved that problem this year by not hosting Thanksgiving or making a list. However, I am trying out a new pie recipe, and if it doesn't go as planned, I may throw a "shuckydarn" out there (before shouting other obscenities) just to make me laugh it off!

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  3. My husband keeps talking about inventing something that will hook up to my head and show my thoughts so he can help me get things straight and eliminated the lost list syndrome. When he invents this I will send you one! Glad you found your list, and I will be watching for Tweets!!

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  4. I'm hosting Christmas this year and since you know you will find your very detailed Thanksgiving list AFTER Thanksgiving, I would appreciate it if you could pass it along to me so I could tailor it to suit my Christmas needs. Ok? Thanks!

    And I had tears rolling down my face with this post! I know you don't enjoy your panic attacks, but I really, really do! You even (almost) make me want to try to figure out twitter so I can follow you. (almost)

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  5. You just threw in there that you found your list all cavalier like. That's a big deal! Woohoo and happy dance for finding the freaking list!

    I don't host things. Well, we sometimes have Holiday meals in our home, but Mark does the cooking and I merely assist. And clean up. Which, if you could see my husband in the kitchen, you'd pat me on the back for.

    He would be really mad if I knew i just said that cuz he thinks he's gotten so much better at cleaning up as he goes. Maybe...a little.

    Candied yams are my favorite Thanksgiving dish!

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  7. I'm already getting stressed out over Christmas dinner for four. So glad I don't have to cook a thanksgiving meal too. Have a good one :-)

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  8. Ummm...ironing your napkins? At my house we use paper towels.

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  9. So... is it really his wiener? Or just that it has a really long neck? Oops, sorry... sorry... didn't mean to bring another bout of panic attack.... An order of wine and xanax comin' rite up! :) lol

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  10. Oh that's just too funny *snorts* (and now I can't wipe that image from my mind!). Hope all went well in the end :)

    Hugs,

    Rach

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  11. Funny you should mention your use of the word f*cking because as I was reading it, I was mentally composing a post on why people insist on using a * to substitute the "u" in the word f*cking...I know, I'm completely off track. My words of support to you: I hope pulling the turkey's wiener went better the second time around. :)

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  12. I'm not offended by the word fuck, or the word f*ck. I am, however, extremely offended by people pulling on frozen turkey wieners. What kind of perverted frozen turkey porn blog IS THIS?!? I'm outta here!

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  13. I had no idea you were ironing tablecloths and napkins for this Thanksgiving dinner. Who did you invite? Because I know for sure it was shuckydarn me!

    (P.S. And where are you anyway? I can't find you!)

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  14. I meant it *wasn't* shuckydarn me...obviously.

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  15. "I FEEL LIKE I'M TUGGING ON HIS WEINER!!!"

    *sigh* If I had a nickel.....

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  16. Oh, this is to die for fabulous!

    And it reminds me of how anal i become at Thanksgiving. The rest of the normal days, not so much. But for parties, I become OCD. Oh, and here's my key to not losing your lists. Write them on Word. That way when you lose the lists, you just print new ones. From bitter experience, man.

    And I've never had the turkey wiener experience. I'm feeling pretty good about that. I don't do the turkey. Everything else is my territory, but the wiener grabbing and the turkey cooking is all my husband.

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