So yes! Thanksgiving - one of my least favorite holidays. To be fair, there aren’t many holidays I really enjoy outside of St. Patrick’s Day and my birthday – both which my work fails to recognize as valid holidays and thus forces me to use a vacation day in order to properly celebrate them. Thanksgiving of course is all about eating, watching football, and drinking as many brandy old fashions as possible to ease the pain of repeating to relatives on how well my job is going. I haven’t actually been back home for Thanksgiving in over 7 years so recently Thanksgiving has been just eating, watching football, and drinking as many brandy old fashions as possible before I pass out with apple pie smeared across my lips. It’s not a bad thing, this living 2000 miles from home.
Last year my sister, Maggie, came out to California to help watch Chloe for 2 weeks while Andy and I were visiting WI. She planned on staying for a little over a month, just as a little getaway, but ended up falling in love (with a boy, not with Chloe) and not leaving. When Thanksgiving rolled around last year I think we were both a bit excited to have a bit of family to celebrate the holiday with. I, being the one with the larger kitchen and an experienced Thanksgiving host, offered to cook up the Thanksgiving dinner at our house. Maggie offered to help cook. Everything sounded wonderful. What could possibly go wrong?
Pillsbury Crescent Rolls is what went wrong. I told you all a bit about it last year, but it’s been a year and the wounds have healed so I can get into it a bit more.
About an hour before the "incident".
By the time Maggie, Dave and Cousin Tony got to our house, I was well stressed out from trying to assemble the World’s Most Awesomest Thanksgiving Dinner and Maggie was a bit tipsy from playing Drunken Uno with Cousin Tony for most of the early afternoon. I might have also had PMS. Maggie had come up to me and asked me if she could help out with anything. I handed her the tube of crescent roll dough and a cookie sheet and told her she could start on those. I was currently stirring the cranberries when I turned around and noticed that she had simply open the tube of dough and plopped the whole roll on the sheet without separating them out into 12 individual crescents and was attempting to put them in the oven in one big doughy clump.
In my defense to the following, I tend to get overly excited and mean when I’m stressed. Upon seeing the dough turd, I yelled, “What the fuck are you doing? That’s not how you make crescent rolls!” Maggie, slightly drunk, got offended. “What? What’s wrong? How is this not right?” Maggie proceeded to mush down the doughy clump so it was a slightly flatter doughy clump in an exaggerated effort to appease me. I got irrationally livid (as I do when I’m already stressed and am now being mocked), grabbed the cookie sheet out of her hands mumbling, “Fine, I’ll do it myself!”
It gets a bit hazy what happened next, but at some point I ended up going upstairs to the bedroom to calm down. Of course, our bedroom is right over the kitchen and both windows were open so I fully heard Maggie complaining to everyone else about “not knowing what the fuck my problem was” and “why I was being such a bitch”. This got me even angrier and I ended up going downstairs and without saying a word, grabbed my keys and my purse and I left.
Which is how I ended up at Mutt Lynch’s on Thanksgiving night. Which is also how I ended up getting fantastically drunk wearing a turkey on my head, petting a real live horse, on Thanksgiving night. Besides the whole fight thing (which is now referred to as the Crescent Roll Incident) and the mess I had to clean up once I got home, not to mention the leftovers a full uneaten Thanksgiving meal creates, it was actually a pretty good Thanksgiving by the end.
I drank enough that night to make up for the fact that I can't drink this Thanksgiving.
Andy of course disagrees. Andy did not have a fun time at all last Thanksgiving as he had two irrational pissed off girls at the beginning, and one sloppy drunk one at the end.
One can't be angry with a turkey on their head, can they?
Andy has banned me from ever making Thanksgiving dinner again. Bit harsh I think. But I relented and was fully prepared just to sit at home with a sandwich this Thanksgiving. That is until Maggie texted me to let me know that she’s hosting dinner at her and Dave’s this year. I texted her back and told her I hope she wouldn’t get angry if I didn’t offer to help cook (for the sake of peace). Which she replied, “No, we’re getting the dinner already pre-made from Vons.” Perfect. I still hope there’s no fucking crescent rolls.