Friday, November 25, 2005

Thanksgiving Hangover

I was very fortunate to be able to spend Thanksgiving with my Second Family. My best friend Ted, who has known me for fifteen years and still speaks to me, invited me to join his lovely wife, parents and brother for a Thanksgiving feast.

Everything was rather delicious but I couldn't eat very much, so now I have guilt.

I was also rather proud that I didn't have to lie down on any of their couches due to fatigue.

This is a major holiday coup for me.

What's rather strange is what happened when I returned to my Sparsely Furnished Bachelor Pad.

Stacy Without an E has attempted to be comical by titling his apartment, but in fact, since he started Dialysis, no member of the feminine species has viewed the interior. Save for the landlord. Shudder.)

I was sitting there minding my own business, enjoying the chocolate walnut cookies Ted's Mom had insisted I take (damn tasty) watching "America's Next Top Model" (Neckish Jayla should win) when my doorbell rang.

That would have been ok, but I don't have a doorbell.

I was wearing my favorite pair of colorful boxers and an old worn t-shirt but I didn't care. I continued munching on my cookie as I answered the door.

If I were 100% conscious at the time, it would have bothered me that a Six Foot Tall Turkey was standing in my doorway.

He pushed his way in and knocked me back down to the couch.

Six Foot Tall Turkey turned quickly in my direction and started flapping his wings as his high pitched voice began to lecture me on the meal from earlier in the day.

"How would you like it if I kidnapped you, shoved you in an oven, cooked you for three hours and then served you up to my friends?"

"Wow," I replied, "that's food for thought."

I then darted up and stood right next to Six Foot Tall Turkey. We put our arms around each other and took a small bow.

"End scene," we said in unison.

"That was fantastic Tom. Same time next year?"

"You bet. Next year I'll bring stuffing."

"That's a good one."

"Thank you."

Six Foot Tall Turkey left my apartment with a little extra energy in his step. A low rider Caddy pulled up to my apartment door and the passenger door opened. Inside was Six Foot Tall Turkey's "companion" Big Bird.

"Vegas baby, yeah!"

The tires spun out of control until the tread finally grabbed the pavement.

And then they were gone, feathers and gravy left in their wake.

If the preceding proves anything, it's that you should always ask what's in the Special Cranberry Sauce before consuming.

Thank you and good night.


  1. Special stuffing, indeed.
    Stopped by to see who you are and wound up laughing so hard I had a coughing fit. Awesome.
    I'll be back. :-)

  2. Thank you Miss Tracy. Occasionaly I write something humorous that doesn't involve my dialysis arm burning or being a dateless wonder.

    Kinda like Ryan Seacrest saying something intelligent, it doesn't happen very often.

  3. Thanks for the comment and thanks for coming by. I don't do a lot of blog browsing, but I did read through your entire blog. I was wondering, what caused your kidney failure?

    My surgery on my fistula went well, and they should get to use it again in about six weeks. It's a crazy catheter until then.

    Sorry to hear that you've had so many problems with dialysis. I have only had about 50 treatments, but they have never been too bad.