Turkey!
Yes, I will probably post this until I die. :P Enjoy!
Once upon a Thanksgiving a long time ago, and years before the hubby. . .
There was me, my thawing turkey, and my German Shepherd.
I had accomplished the usual frantic cold water thaw, and placed the still-wrapped turkey on the counter top. Realizing that I had forgotten to purchase a foil roasting pan, I shot a panicked glance at the clock and saw I had a 15 minute window to get my rear to the nearest store before they closed for the holiday. I grabbed the keys and made it in plenty of time, and sucessfully acquired the perfect foil pan.
As I drove home, I basked in smugness. I had averted holiday disaster in the nick of time, and with superhero brilliance. As I was considering how fabulous I would look in a cape and tights, I unlocked my front door, and walked into the kitchen.
It was like a scene from a slasher film. I dropped everything I was carrying, denting the precious pan in the process, and clapped a hand over my mouth which had fallen open in horror. My beautiful turkey was on the floor, and it . . . had no a$$. . . . . I blinked in disbelief. The turkey's a$$ was just gone!!
I stood stupefied for a full minute to let it sink in. Then my eyes narrowed, my head swiveled slowly to behold my German Shepherd sitting in the kitchen corner, trying unsucessfully to appear innocent. What she didn't realize was that it doesn't take freaking Sherlock Holmes to deduce the situation when she and the a$$-less turkey had been alone, and she is sitting there with greasy lips.
You know how you hear about people going beserk with rage, and doing all kinds of crazy stuff? Well, I was one of those people. I. lost. my. mind. I grabbed the a$$-less turkey by one drumstick with such force, that what remained of the plastic wrap fell off. I stalked towards my dog, and gritted out. "You want the freaking turkey?...Huh? Well, guess what! You're gonna get the freaking turkey!" Well, she so didn't want the turkey any more, but it was too late for that.
In a moment of channeling Joan Crawford beating her daughter with a wire hanger, I spanked my dog with the turkey. The only thing missing from this scene was cold cream on my face. She could run, but she couldn't hide. I chased her all around the kitchen with that turkey. Now, I must add...I don't recomment using a thawed turkey as a spanking implement. It doesn't exactly cooperate with any attempt to aim and connect with your intended target, and the more you swing that sucker, the worse the entire coordination situation gets.
It's a darn good thing no one happened nearby and glanced in a window. All they would have seen was a flailing, nekkid, a$$-less turkey swinging repeatedly through the air, and all they would have heard was the mad scrabbling of doggie toenails executing impressive evasive manuevers.
At one point on a down swing. . .the little packet that housed the gizzards and neck flew out across the kitchen. When it was all over, that dog didn't even want to look at the turkey anymore. The kitchen was a mess, and I had one very limber, and tenderized turkey on my hands. I tossed the turkey into the sink, and cleaned up the kitchen. I grumbled, and griped to myself the whole time, going on and on about how I couldn't believe after all that thawing, I wasn't going to have a turkey. It really pissed me off, cause I live for Thanksgiving turkey.
All the stores were closed now, and even if tthey weren't, turkeys take forever to thaw. . . .I started looking thoughtfully at the battered turkey in the sink, and once again the rebellious, brave, and possibly insane side of me kicked in. I declared loudly to myself, and my startled dog - "By God it is Thanksgiving and I am going to have a @#$%*&! turkey!" I snatched up the a$$-less turkey, and gave the d@mn thing a bath. I washed, and scrubbed it's a$$-less carcass with anti-bacterial soap, slapped it into my dented foil pan and roasted that sucker. I was beyond giving a d@mn, I was going to have turkey. I was going to eat it, and I was going to like it. I cut the breast meat out of it, and tossed the rest, and I had Thanksgiving turkey.
After that day, my dog never, ever, stole a morsel of food off the counter again. Lesson learned in a big way.
Now, in all honesty, for those of you who think. OMG! Animal abuse!! No animals were injured in this process. I assure you the turkey felt no pain, and my dog was appropriately chagrined, but not harmed. After all was said and done, she was forgiven, comforted, and given a bath while the a$$-less turkey was roasting. All was forgiven - but not forgotten, because as her remaining punishment, she didn't get a speck leftover turkey.
No a$$-less turkey issues now, cause my current doggies are way to short to reach anything above the ankles. :P
Happy Thanksgiving!
Once upon a Thanksgiving a long time ago, and years before the hubby. . .
There was me, my thawing turkey, and my German Shepherd.
I had accomplished the usual frantic cold water thaw, and placed the still-wrapped turkey on the counter top. Realizing that I had forgotten to purchase a foil roasting pan, I shot a panicked glance at the clock and saw I had a 15 minute window to get my rear to the nearest store before they closed for the holiday. I grabbed the keys and made it in plenty of time, and sucessfully acquired the perfect foil pan.
As I drove home, I basked in smugness. I had averted holiday disaster in the nick of time, and with superhero brilliance. As I was considering how fabulous I would look in a cape and tights, I unlocked my front door, and walked into the kitchen.
It was like a scene from a slasher film. I dropped everything I was carrying, denting the precious pan in the process, and clapped a hand over my mouth which had fallen open in horror. My beautiful turkey was on the floor, and it . . . had no a$$. . . . . I blinked in disbelief. The turkey's a$$ was just gone!!
I stood stupefied for a full minute to let it sink in. Then my eyes narrowed, my head swiveled slowly to behold my German Shepherd sitting in the kitchen corner, trying unsucessfully to appear innocent. What she didn't realize was that it doesn't take freaking Sherlock Holmes to deduce the situation when she and the a$$-less turkey had been alone, and she is sitting there with greasy lips.
You know how you hear about people going beserk with rage, and doing all kinds of crazy stuff? Well, I was one of those people. I. lost. my. mind. I grabbed the a$$-less turkey by one drumstick with such force, that what remained of the plastic wrap fell off. I stalked towards my dog, and gritted out. "You want the freaking turkey?...Huh? Well, guess what! You're gonna get the freaking turkey!" Well, she so didn't want the turkey any more, but it was too late for that.
In a moment of channeling Joan Crawford beating her daughter with a wire hanger, I spanked my dog with the turkey. The only thing missing from this scene was cold cream on my face. She could run, but she couldn't hide. I chased her all around the kitchen with that turkey. Now, I must add...I don't recomment using a thawed turkey as a spanking implement. It doesn't exactly cooperate with any attempt to aim and connect with your intended target, and the more you swing that sucker, the worse the entire coordination situation gets.
It's a darn good thing no one happened nearby and glanced in a window. All they would have seen was a flailing, nekkid, a$$-less turkey swinging repeatedly through the air, and all they would have heard was the mad scrabbling of doggie toenails executing impressive evasive manuevers.
At one point on a down swing. . .the little packet that housed the gizzards and neck flew out across the kitchen. When it was all over, that dog didn't even want to look at the turkey anymore. The kitchen was a mess, and I had one very limber, and tenderized turkey on my hands. I tossed the turkey into the sink, and cleaned up the kitchen. I grumbled, and griped to myself the whole time, going on and on about how I couldn't believe after all that thawing, I wasn't going to have a turkey. It really pissed me off, cause I live for Thanksgiving turkey.
All the stores were closed now, and even if tthey weren't, turkeys take forever to thaw. . . .I started looking thoughtfully at the battered turkey in the sink, and once again the rebellious, brave, and possibly insane side of me kicked in. I declared loudly to myself, and my startled dog - "By God it is Thanksgiving and I am going to have a @#$%*&! turkey!" I snatched up the a$$-less turkey, and gave the d@mn thing a bath. I washed, and scrubbed it's a$$-less carcass with anti-bacterial soap, slapped it into my dented foil pan and roasted that sucker. I was beyond giving a d@mn, I was going to have turkey. I was going to eat it, and I was going to like it. I cut the breast meat out of it, and tossed the rest, and I had Thanksgiving turkey.
After that day, my dog never, ever, stole a morsel of food off the counter again. Lesson learned in a big way.
Now, in all honesty, for those of you who think. OMG! Animal abuse!! No animals were injured in this process. I assure you the turkey felt no pain, and my dog was appropriately chagrined, but not harmed. After all was said and done, she was forgiven, comforted, and given a bath while the a$$-less turkey was roasting. All was forgiven - but not forgotten, because as her remaining punishment, she didn't get a speck leftover turkey.
No a$$-less turkey issues now, cause my current doggies are way to short to reach anything above the ankles. :P
Happy Thanksgiving!