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Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Talking Turkey

Every year I engage in a fantastic tradition of bathing a turkey in my tub every night for a week. You see, we always have turkey for Thanksgiving, as many folks do, and before one can eat the turkey, one must thaw it out. Dressing the turkey in a plastic bag and helping it enjoy a room temperature soak is the method that Roommate Liz introduced me to many moons ago. And no, now that you ask, I am not entirely sure that she was not just fucking with me.

I do sort of enjoy spending some quality time with the carcass I'm planning to eat, though. You feel as though you really get to know the dead bird -- its likes, its dislikes, its buoyancy. For instance, I can tell you that this turkey is about 15 pounds, but seems much heavier when frozen. And that it has a cold, cold embrace. It's like the Gwyneth Paltrow of the avian world.

The weird part is that I don't even really like turkey very much. It sort of tastes like paper to me. But I do very much like gorging myself generally, so I think we'll get along just fine, thank you very much.

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