The Classiest Thanksgiving Ever.

You know me… I like to flout tradition whenever possible. And so, like last year, MysteryMan and I opted out of a china-and-crystal thanksgiving and instead packed up the deep-fryer, some folding chairs, and my mother, and headed up to the Lion’s game on Thursday.

Of course, I wasn’t completely willing to give up the tradition of gorging myself on Thanksgiving food… which is why we brought Herbert.


Who’d been chillin’ in an apple-rosemary brine for a day.

Then the little women got to sit around the heater while these intelligent handsome young men tried to figure out which end of the turkey was its butt.

“You want me to stick this… where?!

The butt goes up guys. That is not the butt.

Ahh, there’s the butt.

And then…

MysteryMan disappeared behind a cloud of smoke and I returned my full attention to my bloody mary.

Then we proceded to watch the men put together the very sophisticated game of golf. Because our level of tailgating class peaks at games made from golf balls and PVC pipe.

Unlike the ten-year-old to our left who seriously exceeded our maturity and IQ levels.

We hardly had time to be properly shamed because our feast was ready.

Well, helloHerbert, you look delish…

My mom demonstrates proper technique when eating turkey with your fingers… pinkys out kids!


And the less dainty approach… while weilding a bigass knife mind.

Go for it girl.


Don’t worry, the feast didn’t stop there. No Thanksgiving would be complete without fresh cut french fries and mini-apple pies.



The only way this Thanksgiving could have gotten any classier (according to my mom) was if we toasted each other with our dixie cups…

Oh wait. We did.

Here’s to the classiest Thanksgiving ever!

(And to the Lions awesome 0-12 season. Here’s to making history and getting your asses handed to you by Tennessee guys.)

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I'm not interested in a mediocre life. I'm here to kick ass or die.