Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Happy Turkey Day with 8AM Beers and Little Dickies

Well we got there and there was a big sign and a chain across the dump saying, "Closed on Thanksgiving." And we had never heard of a dump closed on Thanksgiving before, and with tears in our eyes we drove off into the sunset looking for another place to put the garbage.

Ahhhh… Thanksgiving! That time of year to be with family and friends, to strap on the feed bag and chow down like Augustus Gloop at an all-you-can-eat buffett. A time for pickling the liver and drinking more than Teddy Kennedy at an open bar. Thanksgiving is a time for 8am beers and free tavern breakfasts (can’t beat runny scrambled eggs, burnt toast and uncooked home fries washed down with a cold Budweiser). It is a time for quality high school football at 10am and shitful NFL games the rest of the day (Come on, do we REALLY have to watch the fahkin’ Cowboys and Lions every fahkin year?). Thanksgiving is a time sneaking into the kitchen to steal some turkey skin before dinner is served and for throwing dinner rolls across the room when someone says “Pass the rolls.” It is a time for making excuses for younger brothers who are passed out upstairs because of too many 8am beers and it is a time for doing Prairie Fire shots with friends (First one to take a beer chaser is a pussy!).

But above all, it is a time for the ENTIRE family to be together – and this year we will be doing it right!!!

As long as I can remember, the fourth Thursday of every November has been my favorite day of the year. I think I can trace it back to that first Thanksgiving dinner when I learned that my grandfather, he of the bottle of Black Label and shot of Canadian Club, had more comic talent than Richard Pryor when he WAS on crack. Every year, without fail, Grampy would pick up one of those small boiled onions that my mother would make just for him. He would give the onion a squeeze until the center would protrude out in a way that would look like.. well….use your imagination. Put it this way, to this day, a bowl of boiled onions on our Thanksgiving table is still called a bowl of “little dickies.” Every year, he would perform the same trick that would make his two adolescent grandsons laugh our asses off and cause us to worship him more every year. Yeah, Grampy was one of a kind!

Thanksgiving is also a time for saying prayers over our food. I know it's hard to believe, but for the other 364 days, I stuff my face with reckless abandon with food and drink that has been unblessed by the hands of God - and sometimes that food is really freakin good! Thanksgiving grace in our family is handled by my brother-in-law, Deacon Roland. Yep, that’s right – our family brings in a professional to handle grace – trust me, we need all the experts and direct lines we can get. I will say that Roland has never been able to get through a Thanksgiving grace without someone (ahem… Kimberly and Andrew..) giggling and snorting like someone had just farted in church. Last year, Roland said his Thanksgiving prayers in Floriday with Mickey and Minnie. That left us to our own devices for the pre-meal ritual. Check it out....

Thanksgiving also used to be the day when it became acceptable for radio stations to play Christmas music. But now that that day has been pushed back to November fahkin First, the only remaining musical significance of the holiday is the hourly playing of Alice’s Restaurant on local radio stations. Because there really are no songs about eating turkey with Pilgrims and Indians, we get nineteen minutes of quirky guitar and folksy speech from Arlo Guthrie about war and peace and garbage and call it a Thanksgiving song. Hmmm… whatever

So Happy Thanksgiving to you all – enjoy your 8am beers, your morning football games, your turkey, your little dickies and most of all, your family!! See you on the other side…. This dumb ass might actually do the Black Friday thing… swore I never would… but I’m afraid I might… somebody fahkin’ shoot me please.

That's what we did, and drove back to the church, had a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, went to sleep and didn't get up until the next morning, when we got a phone call from officer Obie.

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