His last post was a step-by-step instructional on how to be an idiot and stab yourself with pruning shears. And there seems to have been some sort of subliminal voodoo-hex towards me embedded in it as well.
I commented about the multitude of ways in which I've been injured (I'm very accident prone), but never through gardening.
Well, I thought I had better stay away from all things sharp in my yard, garage, etc. I knew that after I said I hadn't injured myself gardening, I'd immediately have some sort of trowel accident or something.
There isn't room enough in this world for two Idiot Gardeners!
Thank the Sweet Baby Jesus In The Manger, I remain a gardening genius.
Last night however, I proved that I'm still an Idiot Chef.
I mentioned yesterday that it was Canadian Thanksgiving, and that I was making a huge mammoth feast of magnificently colossal epic proportions. All by myself.
Never. The Fuck. Again.
I wrestled with that damn turkey for at least a couple of hours. It looked like I'd slaughtered the bastard in my kitchen. There was blood everywhere.
It took me forever just to get the fucking neck out. It was as big as some entire turkeys I've seen.
I sweated and yanked and pulled on that thing until it popped and ended up spraying me in the face (yeah, I know...that's what she said). I was so pissed off. I love it when I get raw turkey juice in my mouth.
And this ghetto-ass jive turkey was missing half of its giblets. Still had a big ol' tail hanging off it. Why didn't they just leave the feathers on? Why didn't they just leave the head on it?? Just wrap up a live turkey and stick it in the freezer???
Gobble, gobble, SQUAWK.
*deep breath*
It was a long day.
Ten hours of cooking later, I'm finally slicing some potatoes, one of the last things I have to do before everything's ready to eat...I see the light at the end of the cooking tunnel....
*SLICE* "Fuck!"
I sliced the shit out of my thumb. Luckily we had some gauze pads and surgical tape, because a Band-Aid wasn't gonna cut it (so punny).
I soldiered on with my FrankenThumb, and all that was left to do was carve the turkey.
I asked Chuck if he could at least do that (he was kind of making light of my cut thumb), and he sharpened up a knife.
*STAB* "Fuck!"
Chuck stabbed the shit (notice the italics, his was even worse than mine was) out of the top of his hand (karma's a bitch). His appetite wasn't affected, and we're lucky everyone at the table was good with the sight of blood.
The food turned out to be delicious, and everyone enjoyed themselves (even with injuries).
Chuck's daughter Lindsay and her fiancé Mike were over for the meal, and took advantage of the opportunity to go over a few things with us in regard to their wedding on this coming Saturday.
Lindsay asked Chuck to help her pick out a song for the father-daughter dance. She wanted to pick a Led Zeppelin song, because she knows how much Led Zeppelin means to Chuck.
They were going over a few songs, and tried dancing to a couple of them in the kitchen while I was cooking. (Chuck doesn't like to dance in public, so he's been kind of dreading this)
We put on "What Is And What Should Never Be" to try it out, and I laughed so hard, I almost peed myself (ignore my shrill cackling):
I get to also have a part in the wedding.
Mike walked in the door last night with his guitar and some music and said, "So, I have my guitar. I have music. You're going to sing 'Hotel Yorba' at our wedding while I play. And we're going to practice tonight."
In case you don't know what that song is, it's a White Stripes tune that I love.
I don't think he thought I'd agree so quickly. The first time I sang to Mike playing last night, I could see on Chuck's face that he was surprised I sang so well. He's heard me sing, but not as if I was singing for an audience.
Anyway, I didn't get any video of that last night, maybe I'll get some when I sing at the wedding.
Everyone cross your fingers (and thumbs) that I don't suck at singing like I do at slicing potatoes!
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9 comments:
Hi Kyna,
Omg, I think I almost just spewed at the thought of having to a) rip a neck out b) deal with giblets c) have turkey blood everywhere d) have turkey juice/blood on my face e) have turkey blood/juice in my mouth.
Lordy, I think I actually would've been sick if it'd been me. I do not like to be reminded that meat was once alive. Yes I know that's childish, but then I'm not a big meat eater and would go veggie if I didn't love bacon so much.
Of course, the slicing of your and Chuck's hands are the icing on the cake.
I hope you have fun at the wedding and I'm looking forward to Hotel Yorba video :D
Oh my brother and I have agreed to go see the raconteurs since the Stripes pissed us off by cancelling their tour and so we never got to see them (although he actually got to see them in their early days, grrrr)
We actually use the giblets to make the gravy. I cook 'em for an hour with some celery, onion, carrot and chicken boullion cubes, then shred the meat. Mix it in with the turkey drippings and a slurry (I love the word slurry) or flour and water. It's an orgasm in your mouth. Without the penis taste!
Seems kind of macabre to bathe the turkey in the essence of its own internal organs for our dining pleasure. But it's a Southern thang.
Dude, a good musicophile friend of ours just went to see the Raconteurs the same weekend Chuck and I saw Jim Jones Revue. She said she never thought they'd play together again, and was stoked that they were. I'd grab that chance if I were you :D
I remembered you talking about giblet gravy last year and threw those suckers in there this year. yum. How incredibly impossible is it that both you and Chuck slice yourselves within minutes of each other with the same knife. I'd get rid of that knife girl.
Ah yes the turkey trials....been through that this weekend also.
Had the raw juice everywhere, and most likely even on my glasses.
But in the end all was well.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Jen @ Muddy Boot Dreams
Now I know why Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving just before Halloween..hehe
Ow! Just ow!
American Thanksgiving is, of course, more than a month away. And we've ordered a quite large turkey. I'll have to think about self-defense strategies.
Hi Kyna,
It's quite unusual here to come across Chickens/Turkey with all their bits and bobs still in there... Clearly there's a lot of wimps like me!
But people do tend to use the fat/oil from the meat and put that into the gravy so it flavours it... Personally I can't do this either for the reasons mentioned earlier.
I know, I know. I'm very picky. Any sign of fat/tendon/vein and I lose all my appetite. I even cut the tendons and veins out of chicken breasts.
Laugh? Of course I did.
Two in one go. Where I come from, we call that a twat sandwich!
Marguerite: Actually, it was two separate knives. Does that make it worse? :P
Jen: That's why I don't wear glasses anymore. I enjoyed the eating part, but the cooking part was for the birds. For the turkeys, if you will.
csmith: And the blood wasn't even fake!
Chickenfreak: Will it be live? Are you gonna have to chase the turkey around the kitchen? Maybe you can give the turkey a heart attack like Pauly Shore did in 'Son-In-Law'.
Liz: I do that too. I had to really get over my food aversions to eat giblet gravy. But I closed my eyes and ate it the first time...and it was delicious! The key is being brave, and opening your mouth to new things...(yes, that's what she said!!!)
IG: Of course you laughed, you bastard.
'Twat sandwich' is my new favourite thing to call people. It was worth the self-stabbing and subjecting ourselves to international ridicule.
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