You Turkey

And by “you” I mean me. I’ve been in a weird, turkey-like mood, which I guess is fitting for Thanksgiving. So, while you’re hanging out with the family you were given or the family you’ve chosen, enjoy these. And for those of you who have to work, I hope this brightens your day. -Sarah

Which is a better term for that abbreviated vacation newlyweds take before a big, delayed honeymoon: half-moon, mini-moon, OR half-honey mini-moon?

Speaking of honeymoons, I swear I just saw an add for contraception that said “If you don’t want the daily dosing of the pill, and you’re not ready for an IUD,” then it cut to “White Castle.” What are they putting in their hamburgers?

Adding “son” to someone’s first name gives us a last name (Ole – Olson, Peter – Peterson, William – Williamson, Arne -Arneson, Ander – Anderson, etc.). Does that mean there are people named Hender, Simp, Dicker, Dickin, Hen, Hud, Patter, Par, and Wat out there? Also, shouldn’t there be some additive for the next generation? Andersonson*. Andersgrandson. Granderson?

Speaking of Anderson, did you know Sherwood Anderson died from swallowing a toothpick? Be careful getting that turkey** out from between your teeth. Yikes. If you want to learn about more unusual deaths, check this out.

Around Halloween I watched Ghostbusters (the movie) four times. It was awesome, but in this round of viewings I realized that I had been mis-hearing part of the main theme song (as sung by Ray Parker, Jr.). There’s a line near the end of the song when he says “Bustin’ makes me feel good,” as in ghost-bustin’, but I had always heard it as “Nothing makes me feel good.” What a sad child I must have been.

Which reminds me: My friends got me a T-shirt that says “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turner” on it and my inner child did a fist pump. Actually, my outer child did, too.

Childhood: Splinter = good, Shredder = bad. Adulthood: Splinter = bad, Shredder = good.

Stituation: the condition of your surgical recovery.

Injustry: another term for the business of law enforcement.

Zomboni: I want this to be a thing. I don’t even fully know what it would be,*** but I want it to be. Just the idea of some kind of slow-moving smoothing-over machine for dealing with zombies makes me laugh.

A zamboni almost ran me over one time, which, as I write it, sounds ridiculous–they’re so slow, right? But it’s true. There was a custodian in my high school who didn’t move to step around or get out of the way of anyone, whether he was mopping, walking down the hall, or sweeping with the giant centipede-like flat broom. One day I came to school late or was in the hall during class for some reason, and I ended up kneeling on the floor, pulling books out of my locker when he was making his way around on the riding floor sweeper/zamboni. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t change his path when he saw me either, so–I swear this happened–I had to dive out of the way and do a roll with my backpack to avoid being hit. It was such a close call that when he passed where I had just been, he slammed the door to my locker shut with his machine.

We got some new paper in and it claims to be 99.99% jam-free. Until I eat my PB&J***** all over it…mwahahaha! But seriously, I’m pretty sure our copier will nullify that claim.


When it comes to texting, I’m all thumbs.

I tried to join the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology****** but I didn’t have the backbone.

AND which of these is best:

I was going to become a vegetarian but I ______________.

a) chickened out.

b) pigged out too much.

c) butchered it.********

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all! I’m thankful for you!

*Not to be confused with Ander Monson, who is an awesome writer.

**Or tofurkey. Let’s not forget our veg[etari]an friends.

***Obviously some kind of zombie zamboni, but still. For smoothing out zombies? Icing them over? Putting a glaze on them?****

****Some people would say they already have a glazed look…

*****Strawberry, in case you’re wondering. And yes, jam not jelly.******

******Jam is made with pieces of fruit mashed up; jelly is made with fruit juice. FYI.

*******Yes, this is a real thing. It’s 73 years old. Or, 65 million in dinosaur years.********

********You’re welcome.

*********Think about it.


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About Sarah in Small Doses

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