Every man's fantasy is to have two girls.
I think, as a general rule, this is fairly common knowledge.
However, I'm not so sure my wife's grandmother knew this prior to Thanksgiving, where this tidbit was discussed at the dinner table.
Welcome to my Thanksgiving.
For those of you out of the United States, Thanksgiving occurs on the third Thursday of November every year.
Although most people believe it's to recreate the dinner celebration between the Pilgrims and the Native Americans, I think it has more to do with giving thanks that I don't personally know anyone from PETA.
...and, as such, we celebrate by killing a large, flightless bird and stuffing it with croutons.
Our turkey was provided by my father-in-law, and weighed in at 28 pounds.
I believe, at that size, it's called a "Turkeysaurus."
This is ten pounds MORE than my dog, and only 14 pounds smaller than my son.
In fact, I think if we were having Thanksgiving at the Blue Lagoon with those freaky natives, my son probably would have been the stuffing.
I'm not clear why, but our turkeys are getting larger every year.
I'm not sure if this has something to do with my father-in-law's competitive nature (as he supplies the bird and - I believe - has to best himself from the year prior), or rather the result of Barry Bonds illegally dumping his remaining Human Growth Hormone into the water supply...creating massive, boy-stuffable birds.
We had 12 people at the house. Of these twelve, two were my kids...who do not eat turkey (their diet consists of the other staples of the food groups: fruit, peanut butter, chicken nuggets). My wife is also not a turkey fan...and usually won't eat it.
This brings the turkey-to-people ratio down to 28 pounds for 9 people...or, if you do the math right, approximately three pounds of turkey per person.
Add in the squash, potatoes and desserts, and you can probably see why I spent all of the following day going poo while sobbing quietly behind closed doors.
(I call it "Black Friday" for a completely different reason other than shopping)
Regardless, long story short - I'm back, and have a few articles in my head now...based on the events of the long weekend.
...one of which happens to be the dinner conversation...
...you know...we're all "Norman Rockwell", sitting around the dinner table...giant mutant bird perched in the middle of the table...
...grandma across from me...taking in the Thanksgiving atmosphere of family and loved ones...
...the conversations start...and include, but are not limited, to the following:
1) "Hey, Rod....are we getting that strip joint in town or what?"
...me...looking nervously at my wife as I try to feign that I have no idea...because, you know...I don't really have an interest in that stuff....
Me: "Heh, heh...I don't know...heh..."
*stuffs 2 more pounds of turkey in mouth*
2) "Every man's fantasy is to have two girls."
Happy Thanksgiving, Grandma!
...it's at this point that I feel the need to look up at my wife's grandmother and gauge her reaction.
Upon seeing that she has none (probably still digesting the menage-a-trois topic from earlier), I fight the urge to knock her out cold with one of the seven-pound turkey legs so she has no recollection of this conversation ever taking place.
3) "This medicine I've been taking gives me explosive diarrhea."
...Aaah...topic of every holiday dinner at my house. For some reason, there is always one conversation that discusses bowel movements, poop, colons...or some other rectal activity...
...while we're eating.
I'm just going to stare at my plate and eat.
Anyone care for another helping of Macauley Culkin?