I'm not one of those people.
Instead, I like to play with dead birds.
I'm not talking about playing around with a sparrow I find on the side of the road, nor a pigeon on my porch. I have two dogs for that. Instead, I enjoy goofing off with poultry. I'm writing this in order to show all of you the joys of messing around with frozen or thawed poultry. It's not just for eating.
Recently, I had the honor of supplying the turkey for Thanksgiving, because the owner of the restaurant supplied all of us with frozen birds. Because our freezer was full of non-turkey items, I had to bring the turkey to my grandma's house for safekeeping.
Not wanting to have a frozen turkey rolling around the passenger seat of my car, I put a seatbelt on it. then I realized that it looked cold, so I put a t shirt on it. And, since it already looked sort of like a person, I drew a face on it with a sharpie and put a hat on it, because why not? All the way to my grandma's house, I talked and sang to the turkey, because a long night of work makes me clinically insane.
Tonight, I was faced with another dead bird, this time, a thawed chicken.
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| You Call It Dinner, I call It Performance Art In The Making. |
When Will Schuster had to put a bunch of butter and spices into a chicken, did he
A) follow the directions as written, and then put it in the oven?
B) Improvise with different spices, deviating slightly from the recipe, and then put it in the oven?
C) Shove his hand into the gaping cavity, and pretend it was a puppet, while singing "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life"?
You bet your ass (and the chicken's) that I got my Monty Python on.
Why did I write this? To offend? To immediately lose half of my friends to mutterings of "oh, he's crazy"? Or was it simply because I had nothing better to do while waiting for my poultry puppet to merrily roast? I'm not really sure. This post is awful, but at least my blog won't be deleted by blogger.com due to lack of activity. I'll try to write more later.
