Not to be outdone by my marriage, my friendship is making an aggressive bid for best text conversation!!

I sent this amazing photo to my friend Whitney…

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Texting once again is helping me to see that my marriage is pretty on point.

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Christmas Time aka Card War aka My Families Better Then Your Family aka Suck It… Twice.

Aaaaahhhhhhh the holidays, a time when all the people in my life decide to shove it in my face how happy and wonderful they are by the use of my faithful United States Postal Service deliverer, Bert.  Dammit people come on!  Bert’s got bunions!! Give the guy a break!!! HE DOESN’T DERSEVE THIS!!

*phew* okay, I’m okay, don’t worry about Bert, I gave him brownies for the holidays… special brownies… cause I live in Washington… maybe I should have told Bert they were special…

Anywho! Holiday Cards, here’s Hubby and My 411 on them…

WE DON’T DO THEM!!!

It’s not because we have a strong and sound belief in ourselves and don’t feel we need to let everyone know how strong and sound our belief is, it’s simply because that shit takes a lot of time and effort!!!

I mean you got to take the picture, create some witty wording, print it out on card stock, after going out and buying cardstock, then find everyone’s addresses, get stamps, and then mail!?! Ugh forget it, I couldn’t even get this holiday blog out on time…

But so not to be a total scroogy grinchy asshole during the holidays, I do put the cards up on my fridge, which I think shows some real holiday cheer and good will towards man on my part… that is until Tracy ruined it.

babyNot only did my pretty much perfect friend Tracy send the most adorable holiday card that ever existed… she sent it to me TWICE… she SAYS this was an accident, she SAYS she did so many mail batches that she lost track of who already got one…

So basically she has so many friends to share her perfect life with she couldn’t keep track… she could have at least sent me some aloe, to go with that burn.

And then she pretty much DID by sending me flowers for my birthday, which is 3 days after Christmas which means it’s pretty much ignored by everyone… DAMN YOU TRACY, YOU PERFECTLY WONDERFUL PERSON!!!!!

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I may be a thief or a super hero… YOU DECIDE!!!… it’s super hero by the way…

So I’ve been getting my period for a while now, if I just lost all my male readers with that statement, let me follow up with… “Oh Calm Down Guys! It’s a thing, it happens, get over it!… MY LOINS BRING LIFE!!!!”.

phew okay, got that out of the way… where was I?

Right, periods.  Well for the number of years I’ve been having the visit by Aunt Flo it still impresses me that I’m pretty much never prepared for her. Which happened today when I realize I was riding the red tide without a cotton surfboard to be found.

So after checking with my other work ladies and finding they were surfboardless, I grabbed my purse and headed for the bathroom for the old timey tampon machine.  Once there, after much digging through my purse, I realized I did not have a quarter… but I did find something else, that ended up working even better.

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WHAT!?!? Like you don’t have a lock pick in your purse?? Now who’s not prepared????

I also left the machine unlocked for any other ladies experiencing a Code Red without a quarter… SUPER HERO!!!

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This Thanksgiving Turkey Recipe WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE… and make you a little drunk… okay a lot drunk.

Okay I take my turkey cooking pretty damn serious.  My first turkey I ever cooked for Hubby took 12 hours to cook and ended up with the inside still frozen and the outside as dry as hell.  We agreed, for the sanctity of our new marriage, to chuck the whole thing in the garbage, order Chinese, and never speak of it again.

To vindicate that day, I have perfected… The Thanksgiving Turkey Recipe.

Which I recently sent to my mother as I will be cooking Thanksgiving dinner at her house this year and I needed to prepare her for what was going to be going down in her kitchen.

Also, I may have just copied and pasted that email into this blog… I know, lazy as shit.

Also also, I apologize for the run on sentences, but she’s my mother and she doesn’t judge… my grammar… that much…

Okay mom this is how it’s going down!

We take a whole log of room temperature butter and mix it with a pile of chopped herbs. What are the herbs? I have no idea, they sell a box in the produce section at Safeway called Turkey herbs and that’s what I get, it’s probably sage, rosemary, thyme and other green things. 

Then we CAREFULLY separate the skin from the turkey, WITHOUT TEARING THE SKIN, if we tear the skin we must go buy another turkey IMMEDIATLY!!

If we don’t… well then congratulations… we’ve destroyed Thanksgiving. 

Okay, then we CAREFULLY push in the herb butter so it’s a nice layering between the skin and the meat all around the turkey.  THEN with the extra butter and herbs, by the way we’re going to have some extra butter and herbs, we give the turkey his final massage on this earth, and then salt and pepper the shit out of him.

BUT THAT’S NOT ALL!

We then take 2 oranges… 3 if we got the big boy turkey, and stab them all over making little cuts and then shove little clove things in the cuts until we have a perfectly covered orange clove grenade, which we then chuck into the cavity of the turkey and tie his legs shut with string to help contain the explosion of citrus clovey goodness that will occur during cooking. 

If we don’t have string we can improvise by twisting his leg nubs and shoving them through his neck to keep them in place… like badasses.

BUT THAT’S NOT ALL!

We then chop up big cubes of celery, carrots, onions, garlic, and potatoes for the turkey to sit on and dump a whole bottle of white wine in with them to keep everyone happy… we will also be happy as we should be on our 2nd glass of wine by the time we reach this part of the turkey process. 

We then tent the top of the turkey loosely with aluminum foil for the first 3 or so hours, taking it off to cook uncovered for the final hour to get the lovely brown top. 

Side story: I once started the turkey breast down and then half way through flipped it, I read it was supposed to keep it even moister… but I may or may not have dropped it in the flipping process, causing me to panic and set my oven mitts on fire.. again… so I don’t do that anymore… anyways back to the instructions.

During the hours and hours of cooking time we are basting that turkey every 30 minutes with the butter wine liquid of joy and sunshine that is gathering at the bottom of the pan. We also continue to baste ourselves with glasses of wine until the turkey is cooled and ready to be cut and served… this should probably be done by dad or Hubby as you and I should not be handling sharp objects by this time… as we will most certainly be blitzed.

And that… is how you cook… The Perfect Turkey… your daughter… Mona.

So there you are! The perfect Thanksgiving Turkey Recipe, you’re welcome!

Now go eat turkey until you explode and/or slip into a coma!… like the pilgrims intended it.

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WHAT A HORRIBLE CHILD!!!!! Why would she say that to her mother!?!?!

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Oh Snapchat you beautiful bastard

So as I’ve mentioned in past blogs I LOVE sending Hubby hilarious Snapchat pics that I am sure help to improve his day and life as a whole.

Well a couple weeks ago I discovered Snapchat videos… you’re welcome.

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Hubby and my communication is totally on point! HOLY SHIT!!

So I had my first commute to work in a Washington wind storm…

My commute that takes me across the 520 bridge…

Which crosses a huge lake…

And I was in my little soft top convertible…

This is the phone conversation I had with Hubby after the crossing.

Hubby: Hey babe, how was the drive in?

Me: Holy Shit!

Hubby: Oh crap, that bad? Was the wind strong?

Me: Holy Shit!

Hubby: I said you should have taken the SUV! Were you blown all over the bridge?

Me: Holy Shit!

Hubby: Oh man I bet, how was the top? Was it okay or vibrating by the wind?

Me: HOLY SHIT!

Hubby: Yikes, well good thing it didn’t get yanked off.  How about the spray from the waves?

Me: HOLY SHIT!!!

Hubby: Poor thing, okay I gotta get to work but babe, give me another phrase so I know you’re okay.

Me:… Fuck.

Hubby: Alright there ya go, love you.

 

 

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