One word. Butterball fuckin' turkey. Don't ever buy anything else. They got a pop up timer. It tells you when the bird is done. They're also not like eating a salt block. I bought one today so Jen could redeem herself. I would never tell her yesterdays fowl was fucked, but then again she knew it without me saying a thing. She tried, she really did. She got up early and cooked all day and other than the 10 or 20 trips I had to make to the store for forgotten shit, she didn't require a thing from me. It was a good day, Dallas won. I watched the game between naps. Then dinner was served.
I did the right thing. I ate it. I told her it was fine. She got mad, she knew differently and that means I lied to her. The boys told her it was good. Their lies were bigger. It really was OK. Other than the salty weird textured turkey, the salty gravy, the too brown, brown and serve rolls and the cold (should of been hot) green bean casserole. The corn, smashed taters, carrots, and scrimps were great.
Lets not forget dessert. The peach pie was wonderful and I hear the apple was good too. Jen likes pumpkin, the crust was like chewy glue. She just couldn't win. An angry Jen is not a good Jen. Luckily the Christmas tree is going up today. That makes Jen happy. A happy Jen IS a good thing.
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