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Thread: Worst Thanksgiving Ever stories

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    Elite Member Beeyotch's Avatar
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    Default Worst Thanksgiving Ever stories

    Gawker's having a contest for the worst thanksgiving horror stories. 1st place wins either $50 or a bottle of Wild Turkey!

    I copied & pasted several but there's loads more at the link. Some are hilarious, some are downright sad. You guys should submit some, tell us if you win!

    Thanksgiving 1994 in the well to do northern suburbs of Chicago. My oldest sister has screwed up her second marriage due to drinking, and now she's shacked up with a guy who's even boozier than her. She insists we come to her apartment this year and she will make dinner and we will meet her boyfriend's adult children.

    We show up about an hour before dinner is supposed to be served, and sister and boyfriend are schnockered, the place is a wreck and no food has been prepared. We put the turkey in the oven, do all the mise en place, clean the joint and hope that the opposing family is normal. Well, we got the daily double with that wish, because the girl was close to mute and the boy was a match-twiddling psychopath. Many drinks later, there's slurring, verbal sparring, decades old grudges resurrected, and the occasional knick knack or lit candle being thrown about. Words can't describe the pandemonium and emotional maelstrom contained in this small one-bedroom place. Not to mention the cloud of cigarette smoke that thankfully obscures boyfriend and his spawn. That's when oldest sister's BOSS shows up at the door. He's hammered beyond recognition, glassy-eyed and barely standing. He drove from his house in another suburb... blotto and completely incoherent. Words fail me.

    We get dinner on the table and I have to say I've seen funeral services that had more joie de vivre. It's either biting remarks, drunken slurs, or silence. My sister, my mother and I signal each other that we are OUTTA THERE the first possible moment. No one was interested in dessert, so a quick oh gosh gotta go home and feed the cats was offered, and we vamoosed as quickly as our feets would take us.
    An Orange County Thanksgiving. My father, my brother and I were at the Orange Hill Restaurant for Thanksgiving 2008. My mother was unable to attend as she had a bipolar breakdown earlier that day, called us all traitors and fuckheads and refused to come with us. During dinner the waiter came over to me and told me that the women at the table across from us wanted to buy me a drink.

    I told him to thank them for the ego boost but I denied the drink as I was gay and not of age. After dinner we went out to the terrace and sat near one of the fire pits. There we were, a family of men smoking cigars and cigarettes. The women from the table came up to our area and asked to join us. My dad being the gentleman he is welcomed them and there sat the harpy queens of Northern Orange County.

    The mother, Laura, introduced herself by pointing at me and saying, "Briana, is this the cute one with the faggy shoes? " (I was wearing maroon converse, so admittedly slightly faggy) Briana, rotund and glass eyed, giggled nervously and said yes. Her other daughter Jessica, slim and cool, asked me, "So you are gay right?" I nodded. Laura asked my father, "So how do you feel about having a gay son who smokes?" My dad shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Jessica asked me if I had ever had ever, "fucked a chick" and I said no. Briana lit up upon hearing this and suggested that she could be my first. I laughed nervously and looked to the city lights. My brother raised his hand and said, "I’m straight."

    The blonde be-weaved matriarch rolled her eyes and took out a bottle of Andre from her purse. "Cheers" she gurgled as she popped it open. She passed the bottle around after taking a swig. "Briana, give the straight one a feel of your Christmas present." Briana then looked at her chest, as did my brother. She gave him the go ahead and he felt. "Very real." I then looked at my dad with pleading eyes and he texted me saying, "Let’s get the hell out of here. " My brother however was not ready to go with the prospect of a disgusting foursome in front of his eyes. So for another ten minutes I was interrogated about being gay and whether or not I had a boyfriend when Mother Horrible told her daughters to stop pestering me and hit the skinny one on the shoulder. The retaliation had to be seen to be believed.

    Jessica reached over and pulled a chunk of her Mother’s blonde weave out and threw it in the fire pit. The mother screamed, "You bitch, that cost hundreds of dollars!" Everyone giggled, drunk and stupid. The smell of burning hair filled the air and my dad finally leaned over to me and said, "Time to go." We left my brother with the harlots of Orange Hill and three hours later I received a text from my brother saying, "Oh. My. God."
    i was 9, dressed in my pilgim's outfit circa 1970-something, my mom is cooking turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravey, sauteed mushrooms, crusites, etc..., so we are FREE, FREE, FREE. my brother and i start making paper airplanes and throwing them to one another. then we figure it will be much better if we light the paper airplanes on fire. it is.

    unfortunately, one of the planes hits our California ranch head on and burns the house down to the ground.

    no turkey dinner that year.

    my dad, being a fire captain, worked that Thanksgiving.

    he never lived that one down.
    A burned Turducken. Burned roasted vegies. Father having spent the day drinking vodka and blueberry juice--"it's good for the memory," meaning the blueberries--and screaming at everyone for this and that, starts ranting at the table. I spent the day shivering from the flu, thus why dinner was burned, because, though I was sicker than sick, I was in charge of dinner, as my brother and husband were busy building a new fence for father to hide his Sanford & Son-like yard that the town had fined him several hundred dollars for, which I was paying, since I pay for everything, including airfare for everyone to get them to this miserable feast. Father starts ranting about his "tar woman" housekeeper, and Mexicans, and praising Bill O'Reilly--you know, one of those Cheney-loving old Nixonites--and yelling at the grandchildren for who knows what and ripping apart my brother for his useless ways, then gets up, and goes to the bathroom and doesn't ever come back to the table. We then hear his TV blaring Fox News in his bedroom. Fine. I guess we can eat our cold burned dinner by ourselves. Except that I'm so sick I can't. I'm keeling over. I can't quit shaking. I think I'm dying. Really really dying. I ask to be taken to the hospital--something I have never done before, except when I broke my arm as a kid. My father offers, but then I know that will indeed kill me, so I ask for directions and my husband drives. Except he gets lost, though it's a mile away, and we drive for half an hour and I'm crying and shivering uncontrollably and he leaves me in a wheel chair at the entrance while he parks miles away and some stranger just walks by me and makes some snorting sound, and finally I find someone to wheel me in as I'm puking burned Turducken and crying and find out that all my organs are shutting down and I'm rushed into emergency and given potassium that won't melt under my tongue because I'm so dehydrated and finally after handing over the credit card for who knows how much damage am given three bags of IV and send home at 4 a.m. At 8 I wake up to my father hollering in the phone to his best friend that I'm spoiled and self-centered and my husband is spineless and my daughter and niece are wild horrible creatures. Though still doubled over from the drama the night before, I throw everything and everyone in the car and beat it out of there, as he tells me that I abandoned him 20 years ago when my mother left him, though I talked my husband into buying the house, and I pay the bills and you know, everything, and I said, You want to see abandoned??? and haven't spoken to him since.
    Oh wait. That was Christmas.
    *I loved that last one, it was so kick-ass!

    It was 1993. I was 9. My paternal grandpa got challenged by my maternal grandma to see who could drink who under the table.

    Now, Grandma is a tough old broad. Just to give you a little background, the T-giving before she got ripped on old fashioned's and joined all the men in the family for a post-dinner cigar.

    She put the lit end in her mouth and it didn't even faze her.

    You just don't accept a drinking challenge from this woman unless you are A. some kind of wizard B. a former Marine Drill Sargent who's been "in the shit" or C. you genuinely enjoy the E.R around the holidays.

    Gramps, being option B, takes Granny up on her Wild Turkey chase.

    Shit starts getting sloppy real fast.

    Granny starts in on how they have these new fangled perfumes with pheremones in 'em to attract a man to have sex with, something that she, as a divorcee, could appreciate.

    Gramps decides to let everyone know he thought my father was gay until he married my mother.

    They are neck and neck by the time my mother slams down the food on the table. Hoping that the stuffing will uh, absorb some of the inappropriate convos, we all sit down to eat.

    My oak tree of a grandpa misses his chair entirely and manages to clutch onto the tablecloth, bringing it down to the ground along with all the food my mother slaved over.

    The turkey was the only thing heavy enough to stand its ground.

    I wish I was making this up
    Give Us Your Best Thanksgiving Horror Stories - Thanksgiving - Gawker

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    Elite Member McJag's Avatar
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    Jeeze-it would appear that serving alcohol is the basic cause of these problems. That is over-simplified of course,but it makes me glad we stick to one glass of festive champagne & hit the iced tea! I do know of one family that had to stop having reunions because all they did was argue. Alas,they were tee-totalling Baptists,unable to blame it on booze-just surly genetic makeup. Maybe the drunks here should just have their own party & give everyone else a rest!
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    No way, it's the crazy family antics that drive people to drink. And the crazy/mean/inappropriate people are going to be that way drunk or sober, the victims might as well have a drink or five to help them cope with the dysfunction.

    Anyhow, they have more submissions:

    Last year my grandfather, who has advanced-stage Parkinsons and thus can't always control his throat muscles, threw up on the table during dinner. Fortunately, since my aunt is in the habit of incorporating drugs in all her holiday recipes, I don't remember much else
    The year after my parents divorced, my sis and I are living with mom, both of us juggling part-time jobs with full-time school.

    Mom undergoes treatment for her Hep C. She goes off work for 2 years while me and my sis take care of her.

    I should mention that Mom is a delusional, paranoid, narcissistic and abusive lunatic who was cheating on my dad with my high school art teacher and then when my teacher eventually broke up with her post-divorce, she bought the house across the street from him and moved us there.

    Christmas that first year she was sick, she demanded that we host a dinner for her and her friends. It was always good for her to have company since it takes the heat off of us and turns on her Dr. Jekyll mode.

    So on Christmas eve my sis and I are prepping for dinner. Mom wakes up, hobbles downstairs to accuse us of stealing her money and trying to poison her. We spend the next hour trying to get her to stop screaming because it's nearly midnight and she'll wake up the neighbors.

    She threatens to call the cops on our thieving, would-be murdering asses. I had to restrain myself from laughing and then handed her the phone. She didn't end up dialing 911, but she did try to throw herself down the stairs.

    Anyways, this year's Thanksgiving (Canadian Thanksgiving) saw her inviting her married boyfriend for dinner and passing out drunk afterwards. The next day she calls me up to scream about how I still owe her thousands and thousands of dollars that she spent while raising me. And that she has proof that my sister and I stole her money when we were taking care of her, which for those 2 years we were paying all the bills and keeping the house running.
    Thanksgiving 1992. I drive 60 miles through a whiteout - cars sliding off the highway all around me - to mom’s house only to get stuck in a snowdrift at the top of her lane. Trudged down the lane to find her and her convicted rapist boyfriend tripping on acid. My 12 year old sister makes a slightly flippant comment to the creep, who counters by threatening to "splatter (her) brains against the wall". I drag my mom into another room to enquire as to where she’d lost her mind, but she defends Mr. Rape up one side and down the other. I finally leave in disgust, find a farm kid with a truck to get me out of the snowdrift and go home again over the frozen roads. I am still disappointed with myself for not taking my little sister with me, though I don’t think she thought it was anything out of the ordinary due to this being more or less mom’s "normal".

    During the following year, Mr. Rapist called all of my sisters and threatened to kill us all and our families. He even threatened to kill my roommate and her kid. Mom defended him, saying it was the cops trying to frame him. When he finally turned on her, mom got a restraining order. When he found out, he took my mom and sister hostage. My sister got away, but my mom had a long rapey day with a swat team around the house. He surrendered and went to prison. She got a free therapist, compliments of the state. She plays the victim and never apologized to any of us for exposing us all to Mr. Rape. Thenceforth, most of my sisters keep their distance from her.

    Thanksgiving 2006. I invite Mom to my house. At the end of the night she declares for the millionth time that her state-appointed therapist told her that her daughters need to "get over it" and quit blaming her for her mistakes. I end the night by showing her the door and yelling "Fuck your therapist and fuck you!" at the top of my lungs on my front lawn.

    Thanksgiving 2007. Good company, good meal. We end the evening with wine and card games. At the end of the evening I open the front door to bid my guests goodbye and discover a swat team mobile unit parked in front of my house and police cars parked four-deep blocking either end of the street. We were having such a good time we never noticed they’d been teargassing a fugitive hiding in a house just a few doors down for the last five hours. I stood on my lawn under the sparkling stars taking in the scene: the swat team, the neighbors huddled on their lawns, the flashing blue and red lights, and felt deeply contented to be just another upstanding citizen in suburbia indifferently observing a swat team knocking the windows out of someone else’s house.

    Please do this again at Christmas. I'd love to tell about the time my mom brought a teenage child molester to my house on Christmas Day and said "Welcome to your new family!" Well, that's pretty much the whole story. Except that he excused himself to go to the store and buy my daughter a stuffed toy.
    A friend of mine tells the story of the first time she hosted Thanksgiving dinner for her family. Her crazy parents were an hour late. She held the dinner for as long as she could, but finally started serving. When her parents finally arrived, they sat down at the table but refused any food. When questioned about why they were late and why they weren't hungry, they told her it was because they stopped at a diner on the way over, and had ordered creamed chipped beef for their supper. They then reveled in their daughter's shocked astonishment.
    One year, my long-time boyfriend and I were having Thanksgiving at his parents' house along with his grandmother, brother, brother's girlfriend, uncle, uncle's wife, etc. We got there and all was well. His grandmother had brought her famous "oyster dressing" that everyone in his family adored. I cannot stand oysters but, to be polite, I took one spoonful and made myself eat it.

    After eating, we all went into the den to watch football. About 15 minutes later, I have to get up and run out of the room and begin throwing up. I know that it is the oyster dressing. I can hear everyone talking about it in the other room with his grandmother saying "well, I know it wasn't the oyster dressing." We left soon after that, with me throwing up all the way home for 20 miles in every gas station trash can.

    On the Monday after Thanksgiving, I realize that someone has stolen over $2,000 from my checking account. I file the affadavits and discover that it was the girlfriend of my boyfriend's brother because the ATM tapes show her withdrawing the money over a couple of weeks. The cops start looking for her and she, who had been living with my boyfriend's brother, disappears leaving all her clothes, jewelry, everything - never to be seen by us again.

    The next year, as we are getting ready for Thanksgiving at his parents' house, we discover lots and lots of the sterling silver is missing and realize that she stole that too! She had helped clean and put away the year before - and had just put it away in the huge purse she was carrying!

    Very strange to say the least. My boyfriend and I got married soon after and have been married for 14 years now with no other Thanksgiving incidents!

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    Elite Member msdeb's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Beeyotch View Post
    Last year my grandfather, who has advanced-stage Parkinsons and thus can't always control his throat muscles, threw up on the table during dinner. Fortunately, since my aunt is in the habit of incorporating drugs in all her holiday recipes, I don't remember much else
    wow
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    Friend of Gossip Rocks! buttmunch's Avatar
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    I had a relative pull an absolute eppy one year when she showed up 45 minutes after the start of dinner and realized we had already begun. Yes, it all ended in tears. She wasn't invited back teh next year.
    'Those who sacrifice liberty for security deserve neither.' Ben Franklin

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    No stories like that. Just an elderly relative with Alzheimer's suddenly yelling at the top of her lungs "Esther! What's that horse doing in here! Normal people don't have livestock in the house!" While pointing at my sister-in-law across the table. Conversation came to a screeching halt for a moment.
    As Canadian as possible under the circumstances

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    Quote Originally Posted by buttmunch View Post
    I had a relative pull an absolute eppy one year when she showed up 45 minutes after the start of dinner and realized we had already begun. Yes, it all ended in tears. She wasn't invited back teh next year.
    She was mad because y'all didn't wait? What did she do?
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    i was 9, dressed in my pilgim's outfit circa 1970-something, my mom is cooking turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravey, sauteed mushrooms, crusites, etc..., so we are FREE, FREE, FREE. my brother and i start making paper airplanes and throwing them to one another. then we figure it will be much better if we light the paper airplanes on fire. it is.

    unfortunately, one of the planes hits our California ranch head on and burns the house down to the ground.

    no turkey dinner that year.

    my dad, being a fire captain, worked that Thanksgiving.

    he never lived that one down.

    i love that one.
    I'm open to everything. When you start to criticise the times you live in, your time is over. - Karl Lagerfeld

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    Quote Originally Posted by buttmunch View Post
    I had a relative pull an absolute eppy one year when she showed up 45 minutes after the start of dinner and realized we had already begun. Yes, it all ended in tears. She wasn't invited back teh next year.
    People who show up late & expect everyone else to wait are batty! They can get there on time like everyone else!
    Quote Originally Posted by twitchy2.0 View Post
    No stories like that. Just an elderly relative with Alzheimer's suddenly yelling at the top of her lungs "Esther! What's that horse doing in here! Normal people don't have livestock in the house!" While pointing at my sister-in-law across the table. Conversation came to a screeching halt for a moment.
    OMG! My family would kill for a story like that! Did you manage to keep a straight face or just collapse laughing??
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    Last thanksgiving, my mother, who can't cook to save her life (Bless her Heart) decided she was going to make the turkey. My sister called me almost in tears in a total freak out hysterical panic to inform me of this. (I already had another turkey that I was cooking so it really was not THAT big of a deal.)

    I told Belle not to wet herself as I was still making my turkey. All was (relatively) well. Well Mimi (mom) found out I was still making the turkey and refused to speak to ANY of us. We had to keep chasing our eyes down the street as they kept rolling out of our heads - but with Mimi this is not all that unusual. She's a little "Miss Scarlet!! Miss Scarlet!!" melodramatic.

    Anyway, turkey day comes and we're having the festivities at Belle's house. Mimi is protestingly late so we all can noticed her extreme displeasure in her lack of culinary talent. She finally shows up about an hour late with much fanfare with her four little rat-sized dogs (tea cup Maltese) in tow (creating said fanfare).

    We've already got the table set and so on - but Mimi yanks the centerpiece off the table and sets it on the floor and proceeds to chunk down her GIANT ASS TURKEY - still covered mind you - right in the center of the table. I thought she'd gotten confused and cooked an entire calf instead and Bessie was out in the field lookin' for her baby. How Mimi carried the son of a bitch I will never know.

    With a drag queen's flourish she yanks the cover off to reveal the blackest mother fuckin' turkey you have ever seen in your life. And, honey, it wasn't seasoning that made that sucker black. It was the good old fashioned fires of hell that burnt that poor bird to oblivion. Needless to say, eyes bugged out as we tried to silently figure out how the hell we were gonna get around this one. Silently, that is, except for my damned baby brother. James David lost it. HYSterics. Snorting, farting, crying, knee slapping hysterics.

    Then Mimi lost it and let him have it with a string of expletives that would make a Sailor's asshole pucker. At which point all hell broke loose - my other sister joined in the roaring laughter with James David - Belle started bawling - the dogs are going apeshit - my twin nephews at this point are hiding UNDER the table (smart guys, those two).

    Mimi then proceeds to rip the turkey out the pan with her bare hands - kicks the back door open, shattering the window in the process - and HURLS the turkey into the back yard.

    Where it LANDS on one of her rat dogs...

    And knocks the dog the fuck out.

    We (Mimi and I) ended up spending the rest of thanksgiving at the vet's office with an unconscious wad of fur.

    Gotta love crazy southern families.

    And yes, the damn dog was fine.
    Thanks for the link Beeyotch. They make my family, whose patriarch threw the Christmas tree down the stairs once, look relatively sane. That doesn't mean, however, that I spend any holidays with them. BTDT, never again.

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    Worst we had was when my brother's face blew up in terrible hives while we were staying with my Grandmother for Thanksgiving at her house. He and his wife wound up leaving and going to my aunt's on the other side of the family so his face would calm down. The aunt's husband is a doctor and was able to treat him for the hives and he was right as rain by the time we drove home to our own state.

    HOWEVER, that is not the end of the story. Being afraid that he is allergic to something in my Grandmother's house, (understandably) my brother now stays in a hotel overnight when we have family events at her house, which horribly offends my grandmother to no end.

    She had also conveniently rewritten history to her satisfaction and the story gets a little better every year.

    First: "I can't believe your brother won't stay here overnight. If he hadn't gone to your Aunt's house FIRST and her husband hadn't given him that WEIRD MEDICINE for his cold, he wouldn't have blown up like that. He is blaming MY HOUSE for a bad drug reaction."

    The next year: "Well he just doesn't WANT to stay here and he didn't want to that year, either. He went to his Aunt's house first and didn't want to leave, I don't know why since she has those cat's he is allergic to that made his face puff up..."

    And this year's most recent version: "Well, if your brother hadn't invited all those cats at your Aunt's house to sleep in his bed and on his pillow like that, he wouldn't have had an allergic reaction, and then your uncle gave him that stuff that just made it worse and then he blamed ME and MY house."

    And she 100% believes it. That's the worst part. My brother is obviously shirking her house because of his undying love of my aunt's cats (My aunt has not had cats in years, by the way)
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    Friend of Gossip Rocks! buttmunch's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Lobelia View Post
    She was mad because y'all didn't wait? What did she do?
    The relative rang the bell and I went to open the door, drumstick in hand. She looked at said drumstick, said 'You started without me?' in a very loud voice, pushed past me, stormed into the dining room and proceeded to yell at my mother, who by that time was pretty well into her wine. I was only a teenager and would probably have gotten yelled at for walking to the door with food in my hand except my other relatives got involved and yes, it really did all end in tears. The happy part of this story is that I was able to sneak a bottle of wine away from the table and got rockingly drunk with my cousin.
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    Quote Originally Posted by buttmunch View Post
    The relative rang the bell and I went to open the door, drumstick in hand. She looked at said drumstick, said 'You started without me?' in a very loud voice, pushed past me, stormed into the dining room and proceeded to yell at my mother, who by that time was pretty well into her wine. I was only a teenager and would probably have gotten yelled at for walking to the door with food in my hand except my other relatives got involved and yes, it really did all end in tears. The happy part of this story is that I was able to sneak a bottle of wine away from the table and got rockingly drunk with my cousin.
    But did she explain why she was so late??
    I am sorry,but some of these stories make me laugh so hard.
    I have to say,nobody does drama fun like Southern Families!
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    whenever there is a holiday get-together with my extended family, it always escalates into a screaming match about politics. anything from abortion, forced sterilisation, human rights, fascism (yes, there are pinochet and franco apologists, i kid you not), anti-semitism, the death penalty, gay rights, gay adoption, gay marriage, gets dragged into the conversation.
    most of the family is either lawyers, diplomats or politicians (and sometimes all 3), with a few architects and doctors thrown in, and one's a lawyer and the dean of a very right-wing university. oh, and some very opinionated housewives. a good two thirds are very right wing, very conservative, very neo-liberal, very catholic (including a few opus dei-leaning freaks). the other third are us non-religious, left-wing social democrats (or 'godless communists' as the rest like to call us). good times.
    at least the food is always delicious. the one thing both political camps have in common, so it doesn't matter whose house we're at.
    I'm open to everything. When you start to criticise the times you live in, your time is over. - Karl Lagerfeld

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    Friend of Gossip Rocks! buttmunch's Avatar
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    Just read this one on gawker and nearly peed myself.

    Last thanksgiving, my mother, who can't cook to save her life (Bless her Heart) decided she was going to make the turkey. My sister called me almost in tears in a total freak out hysterical panic to inform me of this. (I already had another turkey that I was cooking so it really was not THAT big of a deal.)

    I told Belle not to wet herself as I was still making my turkey. All was (relatively) well. Well Mimi (mom) found out I was still making the turkey and refused to speak to ANY of us. We had to keep chasing our eyes down the street as they kept rolling out of our heads - but with Mimi this is not all that unusual. She's a little "Miss Scarlet!! Miss Scarlet!!" melodramatic.

    Anyway, turkey day comes and we're having the festivities at Belle's house. Mimi is protestingly late so we all can noticed her extreme displeasure in her lack of culinary talent. She finally shows up about an hour late with much fanfare with her four little rat-sized dogs (tea cup Maltese) in tow (creating said fanfare).

    We've already got the table set and so on - but Mimi yanks the centerpiece off the table and sets it on the floor and proceeds to chunk down her GIANT ASS TURKEY - still covered mind you - right in the center of the table. I thought she'd gotten confused and cooked an entire calf instead and Bessie was out in the field lookin' for her baby. How Mimi carried the son of a bitch I will never know.

    With a drag queen's flourish she yanks the cover off to reveal the blackest mother fuckin' turkey you have ever seen in your life. And, honey, it wasn't seasoning that made that sucker black. It was the good old fashioned fires of hell that burnt that poor bird to oblivion. Needless to say, eyes bugged out as we tried to silently figure out how the hell we were gonna get around this one. Silently, that is, except for my damned baby brother. James David lost it. HYSterics. Snorting, farting, crying, knee slapping hysterics.

    Then Mimi lost it and let him have it with a string of expletives that would make a Sailor's asshole pucker. At which point all hell broke loose - my other sister joined in the roaring laughter with James David - Belle started bawling - the dogs are going apeshit - my twin nephews at this point are hiding UNDER the table (smart guys, those two).

    Mimi then proceeds to rip the turkey out the pan with her bare hands - kicks the back door open, shattering the window in the process - and HURLS the turkey into the back yard.

    Where it LANDS on one of her rat dogs...

    And knocks the dog the fuck out.

    We (Mimi and I) ended up spending the rest of thanksgiving at the vet's office with an unconscious wad of fur.

    Gotta love crazy southern families.

    And yes, the damn dog was fine.Gawker — Gossip from Manhattan and the Beltway to Hollywood and the Valley
    'Those who sacrifice liberty for security deserve neither.' Ben Franklin

    "When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross."
    --Sinclair Lewis

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