The hell with holiday travel. I haven't left my house in 3 days. That's what Thanksgiving is all about. A chance to be openly depressed. The only reason I've showered is to get in some slap and tickle.
This is my first Thanksgiving in my own home in a decade. That's it. No more Thanksgiving travel for me for the next 5 years. If people in my life really like me, they'll show up.
My parents were the only ones who came this year. Not attending my Thanksgiving feast was the first thing my brother and his ex-wife have agreed upon since 2001, if I could brightside it.
My sister went to Jamaica for her father-in-law's wedding, which is OK, unless you consider it part of a continuing pattern of excuses, dating back to the days when I would lure her into the bathroom after I took a huge dump and locked her in with the odor, as to why she can't travel to Georgia more than once a decade. Maybe not a lot of flights here from NY.
Well, more food and fun for me.
Here's our premium quality, tightly cooped, genetically modified, assembly line slaughtered, frozen turkey.
Here's our turkey frying rig out back on the lush green barely legal lawn.
Old Man Pickle Nose prepares a post-breakfast snack. He's a good cook. His secret is aging. He treats every meal as if it could be his last.
We engage in sports.
Happy hour! Fresh guac and chips. I missed out because I was busy
Back to involvement in sports, and the film industry.
The two turkeys! HA! Brown and crispy, the way they serve it in heaven
Crispy potatoes. Don't they look good? Yeah, well, they were.
Crispy asparagus. I actually enjoy the smell my urine gives off after eating these.
Crispy cornbread stuffing. Tastes like manna, photographs like hell.
From scratch pecan/choco pie with a crispy crust and homemade caramel sauce spooged on it. One bite of this delight can supply the caloric needs of 10 children in Darfur for a month. It sure takes the pressure off the job search when you have this pie in the house.
Home made cranberry sauce with crispy bits of caramelized fruit. Oooh, doesn't that look tart and sweet? Yeah, you bet it does. It tastes like an orgasm. This is my contribution. I made it 3 days ago in the slow cooker. My secret is vanilla extract, brown sugar, and a special raisin wine from Spain. That's all I'm saying because I'm thinking of going national with this one day with a franchise chain of cranberry-centric eateries.
Cranny's. We'll even have a play area for kids with a giant cranberry bog they can swim around in after eating their cran-burgers and cran fries, and wash it down with some cranberry soda. We'll have cuddly characters like McDonald's has. Urethra the Clown will play up the cranberry's role in promoting urinary tract health.
Let the feast begin with a crispy turkey wing. The skin is like eating bacon. Turkey that tastes like bacon. Score! It's a club sandwich without those other non-essential ingredients. Fuck off toast, lettuce, cheese, and tomato.
Time for more athletics. Even OMPN is surprised at the ease with which the Falcons take it up the ass repeatedly.
Tea...because it gives the illusion of health.