Turducken, the Day After

Every Thanksgiving I feel older. The Friday day after feels farther away from holiday Thursday as the years calendar on … but …

I’m not that old … yet. You know, the old when huh? and what’d ya say? replace “You know it, girlfriend!” and “Way to go, bro!” in everyday conversations. Sure, I’m not thirty-something anymore, either.

Consider me one of the middle-of-the-late middle aged road, semi-aware guys plodding along life’s car pool lane. Every once in a while I get to shift the conversation in my head to creative ideas that automatically pop up – and these, then, exhaustively blow out my mouth pipe. Those along for the ride have no choice but to listen because I swerve my words into their ears. They’re stuck. Seatbelted into a friendship with me, they are … and, by the way, they love it.

“Turducken” blew out the other day followed by juvenile laughter. I saw it resting in a meme right in front of my eyes. I knew immediately this word was destined to be in one of my blog posts someday – and said as much to my friends sitting across from me. No sooner did the black smoke clear when one shot back, “Please, don’t. Why would you? It’s just a stupid word.”. “Uhm, yes, I know … a word … a funny word, and I don’t really know what it means – to be honest.”, I immediately replied, defending my youthful, inner sense of third-grade humor. To annoy even more, “turducken, TurDucken, TURDUCKEN!” … each one louder than the one before – just to secure my position among the least mature at the table.

I’m not that old … yet. Words like turducken can amuse me still. So do Lumpuckaroo and Cringidabingus, two words I have NO idea the meaning of and never took the chance to ask my, now, deceased grandfather. I chuckle thinking about them coming from his mouth every time he made a diagnosis of a personal illness or an American political problem. One of two things. Yep. Had to be Lump’ or Cring’ … this was his way-about. I think I got a bit of his genes, btw.

Unlike the aforementioned unprofessional, medically paternal funnery, I’ve come to learn turducken is a real thing: a turkey stuffed with duck and chicken – which makes the word increasingly more hilarious when followed by the definition … Or, is it just me?

Could be. Not going to argue the point.

Don’t want to disagree, or agree, whether you should like a savory three-meat at a time dish. I’ve never had it. Never spent valuable moments forking my way through it – if memory serves me well on my soon to be silver haired platter. I like meat separated, one at a time … unless on a club sandwich, bacon cheeseburger, or pizza.

Or, should I say, a Cluburgerizza.

Now, there’s another word I can spontaneously shout out someday. Unfortunately, it isn’t as funny as turducken, but I can make it so with a third grade snicker and twinkle my eyes in the direction of my friends. They’ll get aggravated and tell me to go sit somewhere else. That’s ok. I won’t because I know they need me around. In their mind, they’re saying, “Way to go, bro!” while refusing to say it aloud. Why? That’s what real Turduckenaires do. The folks who are so unique, so out of the ordinary, … you can’t help loving them once you, uhm, … meat them.

Hop in our car. There’s plenty of room.

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