Let's Feast and Avenge a Traumatic Childhood Event

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For some reason (like, um, my own stupidity?) this entry was never posted on Thanksgiving Day.

Can we pretend that it was because of some serious technical difficulties and not just due to my stupidity though?


Oh, fine. Who was I going to fool anyway? The 'technical difficulties' were caused mainly by the fact that I forgot to press 'publish.'

But please keep in mind that for someone like me, who has been known to remotely blow up computers by merely sending out a few e-mails, things could have been far, far worse.

Anyway, so here, especially to speed up your post-Thanksgiving digestion, the Post That Almost Wasn't And If It Wasn't You Would've Been No Worse Off For It I'm Sure.

So please, just for today (and it's not like I ask it of you EVERY day. Just every time I post. So that would be like only every other day), pretend to humour me. Besides, how often is it that someone wishes you a Happy Thanksgiving five days after the fact?


So here goes:

To everyone in the United States: Happy, happy Day of Overindulgence... I mean... Thanksgiving!

This fine day on which you commemorate what must be one of the biggest real estate bargains of all time: The Pilgrims swapping a few bottles of liquor with the Native Americans and getting a miserly bit of land in return. (I mean, really. They could've at LEAST thrown in a bit of Canada as well, but... oh, never mind.)

JUST kidding! Of COURSE I know that the Native Americans received only one bottle of liquor as payment for the country! (But, what the history books so callously omit is that, dammit, it was GOOD liquor!) And then a turkey was caught, plucked (and the feathers used by the Pilgrim women to sew what ended up being very fashion forward headdresses for the Natives), divided and amicably devoured by all around a rock somewhere in Massachussetts, before they proceeded to eat each other.

And voila, Thanksgiving was born.

But luckily this post isn't really about me sharing my very accurate (so accurate it's almost deadly, isn't it?) knowledge of American history.

Alas, no.

But if it IS something historical you're after, fear not, for I'm about to delve into my very own sordid past to explain to you why I don't particularly care for turkey in any form, be it dead, stuffed and covered in gravy, or very much alive and making that alarming sound.

Yeah, I didn't dub it the turkey bastard for nothing.

Ah, but before all of you turkey lovers out there get all defensive, consider this: My first encounter with the Meleagris Gallopavo (Thank you, Google!) species took place during my fragile formative years on my maternal grandparents' farm where my sisters and I were mercilessly stalked and chased by a roaming flock of turkeys (or rafter of turkeys. Specify, Google! Specify!) whenever we dared to leave the confines of the house to play out in the sprawling gardens.

The turkeys would have none of it, though, and in what ended up being a horrifying role reversal, we, the innocent human children, ended up cooped up in the house while the turkey bastards continued to strut around, their wattled necks jiggling with every smug step.

Ghastly birds! Foul fowl! They don't call bad movies "turkeys" for nothing!

In conclusion, I leave you with the following anecdote received from her. She sent this to me after I wrote this.

I want to share it so that if some of you happen to belong to the same CTbT group (Children Terrorised by Turkeys), I can only hope that you find some comfort in this story, if only it is to know that you are not alone in your trauma:

"Another friend of mine told me that his uncle owned a turkey farm. He described, one time when he was about 8, walking across the farm and realizing that a whole herd (flock?) of turkeys was following him. He stopped, and whirled around to look at them.

Because turkeys, like many birds, have their eyes on the sides of their heads, they all stopped and turned their heads to either side. They, of course, were trying to see him better, but to him, it looked like they were pretending that they hadn't been following him and were pretending to not see him. "Nope, no one here was following you, doo-dee-doo.. just out looking for some seed... nothing to see here... just keep walking" Each time he continued walking, they'd follow him again, and the cycle was repeated over & over, making him completely paranoid." - Maggie.

P.S. Once again, I'm wreaking havoc elsewhere.

Updated P.P.S. I see that I'm not the only one who sometimes forgets to press "publish". Shall we start a Bloggers Unable To Blog support group too?


Aaron said:

Heh. Don't worry. I (Sketch) was famous for "losing the edit button" over at Sitepoint (http://www.sitepoint.com/forums/showthread.php?t=64378).

So losing the Publish button is but a small thing. ;) You will probably not hear about your faux pas for years to come like I had.


MJ said:

Can I join BUB? (Bloggers Unable to Blog) My forte is hitting the DELETE THIS BLOG button. Yeah, that's right...entire blog deleted. Gone. God, I'm such a TURKEY!

kim said:

i loose entries all the time, i just usually don't tell anyone ;o)

kim said:

you know the german (=ME) meant to say lose, right?

pylorns said:

god, i'm such a comment whore...

Leave a comment

is a South African girl living in South Africa. That doesn't sound very original, we know, but you might find it remotely interesting when you learn that she has only recently returned to South Africa for the first time after a nine year, one month and two week (non-stop!) stint in the United States where she accidentally became an outlawed alien (also known, especially in immigration circles, as an 'illegal immigrant.' We prefer the term 'outlawed alien' ourselves). During her reversed exile from her homeland, she kept herself occupied by winning this website (but only after shamelessly bribing the judges) and thus being unleashed on the web where she slowly, leisurely became the World's Laziest Blogger; by being a nanny and by attending sci-fi conventions in search of other aliens. In the US, she also made her sailing debut, her international acting debut, tried and failed to learn the piano, and never learned to cook. She is hopelessly addicted to coffee, dogs (especially Labrador Retrievers), how-to books (with a particular fondness for her copy of the Time/Life A - Z Medical Encyclopedia), and she tends to grossly overuse parentheses (we're not kidding) during her attempts at writing, which you may - if you really have masochistic tendencies - subject yourself to by reading the words to the right of this column. If you REALLY and truly STILL want to know more, you can read her C.V. here.
Or you can stalk her send her some love via e-mail at: redsaid[AT]gmail[DOT]com

The Wish List (Because yes, she really does need more how-to books. Honestly!)


  • pylorns : god, i'm such a comment whore...... [go]
  • kim : you know the german (=ME) meant to say lose, right?... [go]
  • kim : i loose entries all the time, i just usually don't tell anyone ;o)... [go]
  • pylorns : uh huh...... [go]
  • MJ : Can I join BUB? (Bloggers Unable to Blog) My forte is hitting the DELETE THIS BLOG button. Yeah, t... [go]
  • Aaron : Heh. Don't worry. I (Sketch) was famous for "losing the edit button" over at Sitepoint (http://www.... [go]
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