I totally forgot to mention that on Christmas Day, my grandmother totally made turducken. It was actually sent to her by one of her neices. Like, she was sent a frozen turducken. Gimme a W! Gimme a T! Gimme an F! What's that spell? WTF!?!?!
Kerry and I left before the turducken was done. Apparently these things take like an entire day to roast. I would have eaten some just to say I had, but Kerry's aversion to all things poultry would have prevented her from getting within several feet of the Voltron-like beast.
Didn't stop me from taking a picture of it, though! Next year, Osturduckencorphail! (A quail, stuffed into a cornish game hen, stuffed into a chicken, stuffed into a duck, into a turkey, into an ostrich. It can be yet another reason to hate the ostrich.)
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