Bites of Turkey

I know I have people from the UK who read and are appalled by this blog. You don't comment, but I know you're out there. If you happen across this post, and live in the London area, please pass along this information and keep an eye out for this putrid piece of dog waste who assaulted a very cool blogger (Jackie Danicki of Blowing Smoke) on/in the underground.

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Jethro says that if I'm going to go around saying he has a 3 inch cock, I have to put my money where my mouth is and succumb to the pleasures of sphinctral copulation (there is just no refined way to refer to butt sex, but I did my best). He has a point and since I don't particularly care for the practice, I will state now for the record that Jethro is a normal, healthy male with everything being as it ought, at least for the purposes of giving the ladies breathless, twittering satisfaction.

So anyway, Thanksgiving was nice. No family issues, no fighting, just eating. One of my sisters' boyfriends is a Brit who has taken up fishing with a single-minded devotion. I think he and Jethro might take up residence together in a tent on the banks of my parents' fishing pond. They fished while I made the turkey and my sisters destroyed the rest of the kitchen with various vegetarian concoctions. In the middle of all the preparations, there was a commotion at the back door. Brit was flailing around with fire ants crawling all over him.

"GET INSIDE!!!" My sister screamed.

"Well, I don't want to get them all over the place," said Brit, hopping around with a frantic, pained expression on his face.

Now I've been swarmed by fire ants before. I'm surprised he didn't strip down nekkid and streak into the shower. But those Brits are so proper - stiff upper lips made stiffer by stinging insect bites. Still, he is such a sweetheart. I hope my sister keeps him. There aren't enough nice boys in my family. My sisters have a way of eviscerating them and tossing them on the ever-increasing ashpile - kind of like the lady and the dragon all rolled into one.