Tonight was Thanksgiving dinner.  No, not just in my little universe… this was a dinner of friends.  Your family you’re stuck with – your friends you pick.

Aside from great food, the following things came flying across the table and are not made up:

  • Lick my ass and call me Sally.
  • I like my women like my turkey – ground up and in the freezer.
  • I like my women like my turkey – dead.
  • I like my women like my meatballs – grey and covered with red sauce
  • Why is my jaw so sore?
  • Let’s play TSA.  I’ll stand behind and grope you.
  • I’ll take the child molester for $500, Bob.
  • Aren’t all you guys not shaving for prostate awareness?
  • ODB – doesn’t that stand for Oh, Dem Breastisiz?
  • I don’t know what your prom date did to you when you were sixteen…
  • Anybody who slices up an accordion is a hero.
  • Ah, Florida: the silent Auschwitz.
  • I can vomit on you from here.
  • She’s finding new and exciting things to shoot through her nostrils.
  • Ooh, my camera is just like that but the lens is longer.  [She’s spoiled.]

I’m stuffed and tired but can’t wait for next year.  Something tells me family dinner isn’t going to be this amusing.