Mommy’s Little Helper Monday: Thanksgiving Edition

I know it’s been awhile. I even missed my favorite holiday of the year–Halloween. I’ve had some crazy health crap going on that made it pretty much impossible to read or write. If you want the full story, head over and read “Suck it, Iritis!” on my other blog. If not, let’s dive on in…

"Yeah, I got the daughter in the clinic getting cured off the Wild Turkey."

“Yeah, I got the daughter in the clinic getting cured off the Wild Turkey.”

It’s Thanksgiving week. If you were unaware of that little fact, I want whatever drugs you’re taking. This little holiday started when a bunch of white pilgrims (who’d made themselves home on property that didn’t belong to them) realized they couldn’t take care of themselves. The Natives felt sorry for them and carted food over to help them survive the winter. They played nice, but then the pilgrims invited their friends to come bunk with them and they all went on to steal the Natives’ food and land while killing them off with delightful diseases.

gobbler cartoon

If you think about it, the holiday hasn’t changed too much. The family invites everyone over, even the family members you don’t really trust or like. So forty-year-old cousin Greg comes over to eat. He’s been in rehab a couple of times and even though he failed out of sword swallowing school, his band just got a gig at the school craft fair. You feel sorry for him and it really seems like this time he’s learning from his mistakes. He convinces you that he should stay in your basement for awhile. You’re drunk on carbs, so you agree. Two months later all of your food is gone, the cat and several pairs of your panties are missing, and your kids come down with crabs by just walking through the basement. You try to kick him out and that starts a war with his part of the family, even though they didn’t want him in their house.

gobbler 3

See! Dysfunction has remained a part of this holiday since its inception. Crazy=tradition.

I’ve actually been pretty lucky in the Thanksgiving department. It wasn’t until my 20’s that they took a nosedive. I can’t go into the details, but the retelling of the WORST Thanksgiving I’d ever had came in second place in a radio contest looking for the most dysfunctional holiday story. That was an anonymous contest and this blog is not built for concealing my identity, so I’ll just let you imagine the worst.

Now, let’s get on with the important stuff. How do you survive the holiday? Liquor!! My holiday has always been spent in the home of a Southern Baptist minister, so liquor was about as welcome as satan (even if he showed up with a nice pie). But the house has passed on to my grandmother and now to us. We keep the libations hidden, but they’re there. So, sticking with the idea that liquor is more important than some damn green bean casserole…

THE LIBATION:

Wine, beer and even a neat bourbon are just predictable and boring. I couldn’t let a nice merlot be my suggestion for a Thanksgiving themed drink. I had to dig deep into the depths of Pinterest. And I found all types of things on there. Lots of mulled apple crap and hot buttered rum (just the thought of that made me want to baste myself in it). But what to choose? I wanted something that just screams Thanksgiving louder than uncle Dean having a flashback of Vietnam. So I decided to make something up. I concocted a drink that gives you the entire Thanksgiving experience in one big glass. Ladies and gentleman, I give you…

THE GOBBLER (AKA The Alien Chicken)

My youngest son's first turkey art from preschool. He brought it to me and proclaimed it an "Alien Chicken." there's no denying he's my child.

My youngest son’s first turkey art from preschool. He brought it to me and proclaimed it an “Alien Chicken.” there’s no denying he’s my child.

What’s the staple of pretty much every Thanksgiving celebration? The turkey. Those poor birds must have been velociraptors in their past lives and racked up some seriously negative karma. Even Ben Franklin couldn’t save their feathered asses. Their fancy cousin, the eagle, got the glam job and the turkeys endure colonoscopies of stuffing. But regardless, my drink had to represent that bird, and the only way to do it was with some Wild Turkey!

So, grab some of that shit and pour it in a glass. (I even discovered that they now make a honey and a spiced version if you want to really give it a holiday flare.)

Now that the dead bird is taken care of, what else just exudes this holiday? Hmmm….there’s mashed potatoes…yams…dressing….gravy…pie. PIE!!! Holy pilgrim hat, how could I forget pie?!? There’s so many kinds of pie: pumpkin, apple, pecan, chocolate, coconut, lemon…oh, sweet baby Jesus in a “My first Thanksgiving” onsie, I can’t choose. I say you just grab a flavor liquor of your choosing and throw it in the cup along with another helping of the Wild Turkey.

Not good enough? Well, if you need it to look all Martha Stewart, throw in some sliced apples, a cinnamon stick  and some cranberries. Hell, I say you stick a wedge of pie on the rim as garnish. Now that would be a f*ckin’ drink.

Still not up to what you were picturing? Well, I can’t blame you, because I’m not representing the mother of all carbs– the true star of the holiday table–dressing! I mean, that’s what the holiday is all about. But as much as I love the stuff, I’m not dropping a blob of it into a perfectly good Big Gulp cup of Wild Turkey, so I’ll try another approach. We’ll represent that casserole of goodness by “dressing” up our drink. Crafting a festive little  coozie will keep the kids busy, fancy up your drink, and disguise it from others. You can tell the family it’s just a big glass of tea. If they ask for some, tell them it’s laxative tea. If they still want some, just pretend your laxative tea has kicked in and hide in the bathroom the rest of the night.

The Gobbler

The Gobbler

Now, if this isn’t fancy enough for your little holiday party then you must think your special. But it’s the season of thanks and brotherly love, so instead of making fun of your snobbery, I’ll direct you to a nice long list of fancy drinks. But don’t come crying to me when you realize they don’t have handmade turkey coozies. Your loss, pal.

And that’s all I got for this little blog, because my youngest has started puking and has a fever. I have to give it to him for bringing some authenticity to the holiday. The pilgrims gave small pox to the natives and I’m sure he’s going to give fifth’s disease or something to the rest of us. And that brings us to a quick

DUH-I-ALREADY-KNEW-THAT-HELPFUL HINT:

If there’s just not enough whiskey in Kentucky to get you through the holiday with your family, then I suggest you educate yourself on the various communicable diseases. Scan WebMD and learn all the symptoms of various illnesses that you can fake to keep you out of the festivities. There’s nothing like a case of pertussis or the measles to make the family revoke your invitation to sit at the kids table. Have no shame? Offer up syphilis or the clap to give you your “get out of jail free” card. Need something that will give you a permanent exile? Go for Hep C or leprosy (nobody wants a hunk of nose falling off in the cranberry sauce).

And that’s it, folks. Go out there and make some dysfunctional memories that even the best sitcom writers can’t come up with.

Gobble! Gobble! (That's Turkey for "cheers")

Gobble! Gobble! (That’s Turkey for “cheers”)

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