Happy Thanksgiving boys and girls. As we all know and should remember, there's a lot more to be grateful for, than there is to be whining about. Still, some of us moan and bitch 'till the morning light. That's just how it is. You never know what you've got 'till it's gone.
With that thought in mind, I am going to share a Thanksgiving day story from my past, with you. Please keep in mind, some parts will get nasty and severely inappropriate by societal standards. If you have butthurt tendencies or the skin thickness of a hymen, please do not read any further. For the rest of you, please enjoy and don't try this at home...
In writing this post, I realized a few ways in which I screwed myself...royally. Or perhaps, the right word would be royalty. Try to keep in mind as you read this, opportunity is all around you. We get so bogged down in the everyday, that thinking outside of the box, becomes a forgotten option.
There are people right now and in the past who have gotten rich and famous off the shit I did just this one Thanksgiving. Of course, hindsight being 20/20 it's easy to say I should have taken notes and sold my stupidity. It is easy, the way it is easy to say: anybody with a brain should have been short Lehman.
The point is to never ignore your own life, it may present opportunities you chase on a daily basis. Don't ignore what is given to you and what you already have, it may be the greatest wealth of all.
Welcome to T-Day
So, there I was...young, dumb and full of fucking cash. I had money literally coming out of my ass. If I sneezed, I blew quarters like a slot machine. Every last fucking thing I touched turned to gold.
Being a young, irresponsible fool, however, I spent heavily. I bought my first home before I hit the age of 20 and turned the place into a day and night club. Bill Gates made all of the initial Microsoft secretaries into millionaires. Well...I might not have done the same for the local cleaning lady, but she sure is rolling in a lot of my dough 'till this day.
The place was like a day-and-night club. We partied non-stop, drank our asses of and were probably under ATF and DEA surveillance, based on how much illegal shit went through the place. The local police were called so often, I wound up living with and nearly marrying the chief's daughter. We almost had a reserved bed in the county bullpen. No, I don't mean the cubicle at comptroller's office. I mean a fucking iron slab in a jail cell. Thuggish as the place might sound, at least 4/5ths of the guys and gals who came through were white collar yuppies. Many were hardened Wall Street soldiers.
Come one Thanksgiving, I decided to get my Epic Meal Time on. The amount of experimenting I've done in the kitchen would even make these guys puke. But this Turkey Day, it made everyone sick.
I started the week by picking up a few thousand dollars worth of booze. There were kegs of various colors, to keep it politically correct. There were fifths and fifths of Jack, Johnnie, Absolute, Tanqueray, Bacardi, Hennessy, Remy, etc...
So I got down to business...
The turkey was left to defrost in a keg of Heineken. We called it the German Bird, even though Heineken is a Dutch company, but we didn't care. I had my buddy metal saw the keg and we dropped it in squealing like retards flushing shit down the toilet.
Needless to say, the word plop was an essential part of that week's lexicon.
Next came the Absolute Vodka Cranberry Sauce. I am sure you can figure out the recipe to this monstrosity on your own. It wound up looking like straight plasma. I probably would have been better off if I had hit up the blood bank.
The stuffing was a bacon, bread-in-whiskey combo. I took a few giant French breads, broke them up in hand sized pieces and dumped them in a bucket of Jack overnight. The mushy goop I had waiting the next morning was enough to make an alcoholic glutton die of excitement, and a normal person, just plain die. Oh yeah, added some ground sausage...just because.
The mashed potatoes were also soaked. They had the pleasure of chilling out in potato made moonshine. Some local yokel had made me a batch a year earlier and I thought this was a great time to try it out. After a long soak, followed by waffle cutting and a re-soak, they went in the deep frier. Moon-fucking-shine Waffle Fries. It was getting serious...
For the finishing touch, I had to go all out. All-out-fucking-stupid that is...
I stuffed the oven with three full-sized birds and let them cook for a long fucking time. I knew that it would take forever with each one requiring a ton of heat for itself, but that was part of the plan.
I took them out using layers of work gloves and skewered them on a pole which could accommodate a lamb or two. The bonfire was going early and a few of my closest allies arrived at the crack of dawn for kegs and eggs. Once the Germans came out of the oven, they were off to the fire pits of hell...
We loaded up super soakers, soda bottles and cleaned out Windex containers, with all sorts of liquors. We blasted those turkeys for a solid two, if not three hours. We threw barbecue glazing, handfuls of salt and pepper and God only knows what else on them.
By the time the guests arrived I was already teetering on blackout mode.
Flashing forward a few hours, the place was a pig pen. No...really, a pig-fucking-pen. People passed out all over the place, girls with size 0 jeans looking 8 months pregnant, dudes sleeping standing up against the wall, and one seriously sick son-of-a-bitch shitting in the front yard and then going straight -1 on people, flinging his own poo.
It was a disaster and probably the coolest day ever, at the exact same time.
The strange thing about the event, however, was that we were not very loud. Most people had pre-gamed prior to arrival and some had eaten. Passions were pretty much subdued and our poisonous menu just about quelled what was left of the fires.
Then it happened...
The event that changed all of our lives, got 37 people arrested, moved the State Police into my living room for a week and ruined my reputation so fucking bad, I had to sell the place for dimes-on-the-dollar and get the fuck out of dodge before the locals burned me in effigy.
Hook ups are nothing new at parties. The looser the booze, the wetter the cooze. And so it was on this day...with dire effects.
A gentleman and a lady, who shall forever remain nameless, while being known to thousands of people as "those fucking animals", cavorted in the laundry room. The room was in the basement and had a door which led directly outside. You can probably figure out what came next.
They were so into it and so wrecked, that they wrecked the door and wound up outdoors. Now, this was not a particularly cold Thanksgiving, but it was still November.
I heard noises from outside and followed their call. The crowd had gathered...
We had almost one hundred people present by now, and they were all watching.
These two were going at it...in front of everybody...outside...drunk as fuck.
The best part was that they were both completely oblivious to what was happening, they weren't exhibitionists. Both were actually pretty quiet and calm, under normal circumstances. At some point, however, they snapped out of their conjoined coma and that's when it became a real shit show.
Now, you guys gotta remember this is years before Tucker Max, so when I told you that I fucked myself out of millions, I was not kidding. As blurry as that day and that whole part of my life is, the next few minutes will stay with me until I die.
First, she looked up and to the side. She sort of froze, stop making any sounds and then screamed at the top of her lungs. It was more like a stuck pig sort of squeal, actually.
Dude was next. He was behind her and as soon as he realized that he was on the jumbotron...he blew chunks. All over her back. The crowd was stunned. We all went silent and then... pandemonium.
It was like we had just won The Super Bowl! Screaming, whooping, hollering, high fives, hugs, singing, dancing...I never saw such joy. We made more noise than a packed Rose Bowl or Happy Valley. One hundred or so, louder than one hundred thousand.
Meanwhile, our lovely couple were like two deer in headlights. Frozen and unable to move. She followed his throwing up, with a waterfall of her own. It was ridiculous. He tried to cover her up, but just smeared the good stuff on his chest. Then he fell on her, they started to scramble, but couldn't get up. Finally, she emerged...standing on shaky legs like fucking Bambi. Then she fell straight on his gut and he puked again. This time it leaked out the sides of his mouth. She screamed. We screamed. He laughed.
This went on for about a minute or two, but it felt like days. Finally, they both got up. We applauded raucously. Then it happened. Our puke covered friend, just went for it...
He squatted down and took a shit. A humongous shit. The kind of shit only a mature elephant male should have in him. She didn't notice. Enthralled by our increasing support, our boy thought he'd complete the trifecta...
He grabbed her and made out with her. We cheered again. Then he stepped back, into his own turd, slipped, fell and gave her the greatest belly-to-belly suplex I ever did see.
They were both covered in puke and shit, and the poor girl had gotten body slammed on top of it all. The police arrived. Fade-to-black. The next few weeks made that day were expensive for many of us. We all agreed to an eternal gag order, without anyone ever having to say a word on the subject. It is as if it never happened. But it did.
Having written all of this out, I feel drunk and tired. Today, I will have a drumstick, 1.5 servings of mashed potatoes and a glass of warm milk. That is it.
I can wrap this up, but there's no need. Just enjoy your Thanksgiving and be grateful for what you have been given in life. Nothing defines happiness better than, being the person who desires exactly what they already have.