I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday! Our classy family sure did! Here are a couple highlights:
Christmas Eve
My dad made his awesome deep fried Cajun turkey and brought it to our house for dinner, nom nom nom! After eating, instead of singing Christmas carols in front of a roaring fire, we gathered around the glow of the computer and discussed our joint pains while submitting my mom’s application for social security benefits- because getting old sucks.
Christmas Day
My in-laws are wonderful people that tolerate, and hopefully find humor in my quirky personality. I guess I’m sorta like watching a monkey throw poop, funny as long as you’re not the target.
Anyway, we went over to their house for dinner, along with Brian’s brothers and their families. I really tried my best, but it only took 1 cosmo for me to instigate a not-so-classy conversation.
What started as a debate about whether or not hot sauce needed to be refrigerated evolved into a conversation about why raising chickens in our spare bedroom for the purpose of egg production might be a bad idea. How does that happen you ask?
Brother-in-law: Hot sauce doesn’t need to be refrigerated. You know, eggs don’t need to be refrigerated either.
Me: Yes, I heard that. We eat about 6 eggs per day and spend a ton on them each week. How much does a chicken cost? I think I’ll buy a chicken.
Brother-in-law: Did you know you can order them online from all over the world? There are websites that show pictures of various chickens, organized by breed and characteristics.
Brian: Like a mail-order-bride, but for chickens?
Me: Would I have to specify if I was a breast or leg man?
Father-in-law: I’m sure your HOA doesn’t allow poultry. I’d be shocked if they did.
Me: Maybe if I said she was a pet? I could get her a collar with the name tag “Clucky” and walk her around the block…on a leash.
Someone (?): Nah, you’d have to hide her.
Me: Well, we do have a spare bedroom. It’s currently Brian’s office but he could relocate or share the space.
Brother-in-law: Chicken feed is pretty expensive & according to your egg consumption, you’d need at least 6 chickens.
Sister-in-law: Chickens are dirty and crap a lot.
Me: And I already hate cleaning the litter box. Hmmm, maybe I’ll just keep buying my eggs from Costco.
Brother-in-law: Yeah, I think that’s your best option.
Me: But what do you guys think about a duck? We never use our jacuzzi tub.
We then went on to compare chicken eggs to human ovulation. And I might have informed everyone that my cramps & bitchiness would be unbearable if I had to lay a huge egg each month.
Before you judge: I’m sure this is a common dinner topic for the Perdue family.
After dinner the desserts were brought out. I noticed no one was touching these…
and that’s because everyone suspected they were dog treats, you know, based on the dog bone shape and all. My mother-in-law swore that they were sugar cookies. I’m guessing we made her regret using that cutter (which I’m sure was sold as part of a “Make Your Own Dog Treat” kit). So in order to be both helpful and to diminish all confusion, I took the liberty of breaking and reshaping each one…
I’m like the Edward Scissorhands of cookies.
But still, no one ate them. Puzzling.
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This post is dedicated to my imagined chicken “Clucky” and to what could have been. Dreamers keep on dreaming…unless it involves cleaning up a lot of shit.
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