I have deep fried turkey poisoning

I just know it. Why else would I be sitting here, derriere glued to the couch, mesmerized by a commercial selling me all 5 (count ’em, 5) videos of the Barbra Streisand television specials, digitally remastered? Beginning in 1965. I hate Barbra Streisand. I always have. Still do. But this commercial is hypnotic.Barbra_bunte_e_1

I’m probably the only person on the planet that literally gagged and had to leave in the middle of Prince of Tides. And isn’t she back again as a shrink in some movie, only this time it’s a comedy? It’s that nasal whiny thing that makes me nuts.

So the only way I can explain the fact that I’m sitting here letting the peanut oil congeal in my arteries, slack-jawed, as Barbra shrieks, "Don’t rain on my parade!" in old black and white TV is that I’ve been poisoned by that damned Cajun fried turkey.

I’ve done nothing today except clean up grease and watch celebrity poker with accompanying commercials on TV. I haven’t showered. I’m still in my pajamas. (Although I heard being in your pajamas was not necessarily a deterrent to Black Friday shopping. Some local women were lined up outside Kohl’s at 4 AM in their pajamas- in 17 degrees and snow. Must be some good bargains, huh?) I watered a few plants, fed the birds, visited a few blogs. Ate some homemade Chex mix.

But, in general, that turkey has destroyed my will to live. Or at least to get clean. I bet Bonnie is not only clean; she probably did a hot yoga class today, too. Maybe Mistress Mary will be back tomorrow and exhort me to exercise. I surely hope so. Or soon, I’ll have a celebrity body like this.

6 responses to “I have deep fried turkey poisoning

  1. I got some mail order sweat shirts. I got some mail order sweat pants. They are made of cotton. Pajamas are made of cotton. See where I’m going here? You only need to get re-dressed maybe once a week. I can handle that.

    Why would Billy want our credit card number? Surely he can’t take it with him. Can he? Boy I’d like to hook him up with Tammy Faye; she show him what’s what. He’ll forget all about money.

  2. Hos is right – he needs Tammy Faye!

  3. Why not give yourself a day like this? It sounds like you had more grease to clean up than I have ever seen. We had a slow start too. My problem was being sleepy from getting up several times during the night to get my not so smart dog back in his house so he wouldn’t freeze. He seems to think the wind is going to blow the last of the figs off the treee and he wants to be there to grab them up. Little does he know that the remaining figs are not, nor ever will be ripe and are firmlly attached. Of course, he slept all day.

  4. I’m a couple of days late asking, but here’s what I want to know: do YOU eat the cranberry relish?

    When I was growing up, we always had cranberry-orange relish when one of the women from my mom’s side of the family cooked Thanksgiving dinner. For years, I thought it was a somewhat odd traditional family recipe. Why would you want to eat raw cranberries? (We had cooked cranberry sauce, too, but never from a can. That’s a preference I’ll never understand.) I didn’t learn to relish that relish ’til I was in grad school. Before the first Thanksgiving dinner that Paul and I cooked, I called my mom to ask for the recipe. Imagine my surprise when she told me it was on the back of the bags of cranberries! It’s not the recipe you make, as there’s no Cointreau in our “family” recipe; ours is just cranberries, a whole orange and some sugar ground together. Thanksgiving dinner wouldn’t be the same without it, and when we’re into the leftover days of the weekend, I’ll eat a small bowl of cranberry relish while Paul has pie. Yummm.

  5. I’m back! Hope you are not still in your pj’s. Hey – I didn’t see the movie, but the book Prince of Tides was the biggest pile of crap I ever read in my life!

  6. I think it’s Streep in the shrink movie… unless there’s another one out there, thus proving my theory that there is no god.


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