I Can’t Even Remember What “Take” We’re On Anymore

So just to summarize the week so far: I watched a “comedy” that left me sobbing, I forgot my vagina story, and instead of finding a loving supportive group, I discovered I’m one of a whopping three people that vacuums their oven.  And I haven’t even told you about my cat Lucy’s latest debacle involving brussel sprout leaves and Rocco’s suede jacket.

Frankly, it’s only Wednesday and I’m starting to seriously worry about what the rest of the week holds.

But let’s face it, if I don’t finish the post I had intended to write yesterday (Remember?  The one that started out about Thanksgiving and then turned into you guys dousing my dreams of being a normal girl?  *sigh*) I’ll never get it done.

So here we go – Why I’m Thinking About Thanksgiving: Take Two.

One of the very first years we were living in this apartment, our rowdy neighbors across the hall invited us over to watch some football and partake of their allegedly delicious Turducken.  Everyone knows what those are, right?  A de-boned chicken inside a de-boned duck inside a turkey?  I know.  *shudder*  It sounds an awful lot like a horror story to me.  In fact, ever since I heard about that horrible “Human Centipede” movie (And NO I will not link to it because I love you, Interwebz.  And I refuse to expose you to anything THAT disturbing.), I think of it every time I think about Turduckens.

Shit.  Well maybe I haven’t been thinking about Thanksgiving at all.  Maybe I’ve been thinking about Halloween.  Shit, here we go again –  Why I’m Thinking About Thanksgiving, Or Was It Halloween: Take Three.  I should really pay more attention sometimes.

Does anyone else feel like we’re sliding off the rails again?  Have I mentioned I’ve been having a wee bit of trouble sleeping again?  I think its best that I not tell you too much about the dream I had last night where A Vapid Blonde, while wearing Mildred’s cone, diagnosed me with a raging case of Rabbit.  (FYI, in Elly’s dream world, a diagnosis of Rabbit is VERY serious and not at all as cute as it sounds.)

Oh for the love of vagina!  Let’s try this one more time from a completely different angle – Why I’m Thinking About Thanksgiving, Or Was It Halloween, Never Mind – Here’s a Gwen Story Instead: Take Four.

I’ve been a little upset with my friend Gwen (remember Bridezilla?) because she foolishly passed on the chance to be a prison nurse.  I mean, a prison nurse!  As in a nurse that works inside a prison.  Like with a syringe in one hand and a billy club in the other.  How can a person pass on a chance to do something like that?!?  Think of all the great stories I would have had to share with you, Interwebz.  I mean, it’s like she doesn’t even think about our needs.  Sheesh.

So I’ve sort of been avoiding her because how could she possibly have any good stories to tell now that she’s working in some bourgeois clinic on the Upper West Side, right?

Me:  I’m bored.

Gwen:  Well then this guy came in with heart palpitations.

Me:  Bored.

Gwen:  Shortness of breath?

Me:  Bored.  *pounding table*  WE WANT VAGINA!

Gwen:  I didn’t even see any women today.

Me:  BoredBoredBoredBored.

Gwen:  *sighs with defeat*  Well…

Me:  YES!  *shouts to waiter*  Another round!

Gwen: Well it’s not really my story.  It’s a “I heard it from a girl who heard it from a girl” kinda thing.  It probably isn’t even true.

Me:  This is getting boring again.

Gwen:  Well at some clinic somewhere, there was this woman who had a reputation for coming into the ER with things in her…You aren’t going to blog about this, are you?

Me:  *crosses fingers behind back*  Would I do that?

Gwen:  I guess it was some sort of mental thing where she wanted to be pregnant so she gave birth to these…objects.

Me:  Like what?  A tennis ball?  A lampshade?  A stuffed animal?

Gwen:  All kinds of things I guess.  All I know is that the ER staff would make the new residents deal with her.  So this brand new gal goes into the exam area, gets the patient in the stirrups, and finds a…

Me:  A what?  What?!?  Balloon animal?  House slipper?  A cell phone?

Gwen:  A chicken.

Me:  A chicken?

Gwen:  A chicken.

Me:  Like a cornish hen?

Gwen:  No, a regular full size chicken.

Me:  That’s a lot of chicken.  Was it cooked?

Gwen:  What is wrong with you?  Of course not!

Me:  I’m the weird one because I want to know if it was cooked?  A woman is shoving raw poultry in her kayak yet I’m the weird one?  A chicken gets smaller after it’s cooked, right?

Gwen:  It might have been de-boned…

So now, between this story and the “Human Centipede” thing, I really never want to hear the word Turducken again.

Even worse, I can’t think of a single witty name for a chicken inside a chick.  I mean, chickchicken isn’t funny at all.

Thank goodness I have you people…


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83 thoughts on “I Can’t Even Remember What “Take” We’re On Anymore

  1. I can’t even think about prison nurses since I used to watch HBO’s OZ. The show voted most likely to keep people out of the clink.
    Anyway, there were several very important questions posed in this installment that we still don’t have the answers to.
    NO elaboration whatsoever on the imagery of Vapid wearing a cone.
    NO solid answer as to how a chicken wrapped in a turkey with a taco filling and a duck coat is eaten, or found in the first place.
    NO anecdotes about this neighborly visit where you were forced to eat things not found in nature.
    These are things I feel compelled to understand. ESPECIALLY the part about VAPID in what appears to be an S & M fueled fantasy.

    1. Holy Jesus in a closet and Chicken in a vag…I am going to quit my job and just hang out here for the rest of my life. Also, seriously, who DOESN;T put a condom on the lobster before the pleasuring of themselves? What a novice. Now, if you people will excuse me, I am going to go try to dream of Vapid in her cone skirt.

  2. I once heard an urban myth (I hope) about a woman who stuck a (live) lobster’s tail in her hoo-haw for the sexy pleasure of it. And then the traumatized lobster laid its eggs in her and then they hatched and she died.

    So, first: ouch. Second: yuck. and Third: no thanks, I’ll never be hungry again. All of which I think apply to both turducken and re-birthing a chicken.

    1. O.K. fuck this.
      That is one step further than the H.R. Gieger crafted creature from Alien sticking it’s tail up your bits impregnating you with it’s egg and having it burst from the area during dinner.
      Come to think of it the lobster looks a hell of a lot like that creature and now I cannot stop pacing Elizabeth.
      THis tops Richard Gere’s hamster frivolity AND spider eggs in my grape Bubble Yum. Hell it even tops pop rocks with soda and exploding stomach syndrome.

          1. Brine shrimp are SEA MONKEYS!!!
            Fucking Sea monkeys hatched in this womans vagina. The king and the queen probably killed her. Ask Vapid, she knows all about the bitchy blond one with the pointy crown.
            And on a lighter note, kudos for keeping those wily fuckers alive. I spent three weeks trying to breed mine in a tank with mixed results.
            Little did I know I should have shoved the eggs up my vag to marinate!

          2. As long as we’ve gone so far down the disgusting trail that there’s just no turning back, I would like to point out that, according to snopes, you would also have to shove a flashlight up there to get them to hatch. They need the light.

          3. Because I’m the type to beat a dead horse, and I didn’t want to hijack your comments page, I wrote the story of how I first learned about Lobster Love on my blog.

    1. Stop pretending to be scandalized here. If you didn’t go into a dead faint when I offered my services to pattypunker after she buttoned her strap on properly I can’t imagine a well concealed chicken has stolen your very funny words.
      I still can’t wait for the “Vapid in a Cone” dream case scenario to unfold!!
      I better go, cause Elly is going to kick me out soon…..

      1. Scandalized? No NEVER! Stunned and speechless at the shear kaleidoscopic trippiness of the train of thought in Elly’s brain? Always.

        How about “Chicken in a Biscuit”?

        1. The infant Christ child will be pleased.
          Oh man that was bad.
          I can feel the pulse of the electrical shock building.
          I ALMOST stepped over the line that no lapsed Catholic should ever cross where a funny joke about a closeted Jesus just missed escaping my lips.
          At least I saved my house from the lightning strike.
          I love Elly’s brain!

          1. I feel like I have befouled this place with my filth.
            Perhaps it’s time to call in “the cleaner”?
            Or maybe not! Let’s call in “The Continental” and crack that champagne bottle!

  3. It’s called a chickenstickinchick.

    Also I am so sorry to here that you have a raging case of the Rabbit. Can you feel the two front teeth yet?

    Also I love my Mildred’s Cone Skirt, I just wish I had been wearing underwear.

  4. Going out on a limb here, but I’d say vagken, not to be confused with time said woman probably tried to give birth to a ken doll.

  5. Want to feel better? I kept wondering if it was a LIVE chicken! You’re welcome.

    Perhaps she doesn’t want to give birth so much as she wants to BE a chicken herself. Or she’s been making the beast with two backs ith Colonel Sanders. Either way.

  6. duffy, my love, you are definitely ovulating. please tell me the eggs are human.

    elly, thanks to this post, turducken is off the table and my vagina is now closed for business. this is officially the “no thanks” holiday.

    it just doesn’t get any funnier than you two. : ))))

  7. I always think, what if turducken were a real animal? What would that look like live? Now, I’m adding a human into that element, thanks to you.

    But as an aside, I have 10,000 amazingly crazy ER nurse stories from hubby that I have been forbidden to blog about because of fucking HIPA. Say the word and I’ll shoot you an email.

    1. Ba ba ba Bird bird bird, the bird is the word. Or grease. I’m not sure which word you’re looking for but can we just assume I’ve said it so I can get all the good stories?

  8. I’m disturbed, but laughing, and disturbed that I’m laughing. BTW, did you know you have Turducken ads appearing at the bottom of your blog? $49.99. America’s new favorite turkey. Now I’m freaked out.

  9. Today I found out many things about myself. Most of them were terrible life altering realizations, but the other stuff was useful.
    Like, now I know I possess the skill set to hatch things inside my body with the help of knowledgeable and kind friends.
    Well, I guess I kind did that already since I have 3 kids, but I should specify these would be “non human” things.

  10. Pollo pussy? Wait, can we say pussy around here? No? Well how the hell am I supposed to work in my mastercraft of alliteration? Fine. I’ll show myself out.

    Human Centipede = awesome.

    Not that I’ve watched it. However, I’ve been intrigued by the notion, mostly for comedic effects. I’m also at a loss for how one could make a movie that was 90 minutes in length (or so) about three people sewn together, ass-to-mouth.

    What’s that? I really need to leave now?

      1. I never know. When I show up to a new place–or when I’m around new women–what terms for female genitalia are acceptable. It made dating lots and lots of fun…kind of like dragging out that first-date awkwardness for weeks and months at a time.

        I wish I could stay, but I have to jet off to my other job. BUT, thanks to all the talk of ass-to-mouth living and chickens in places where chickens really shouldn’t be, I’m not as hungry anymore. Good job, everyone!

  11. I thought people who shoved objects inside did so to satisfy some sort of sexual fetish?

    Isn’t it funny how our bloggy family shows up in our dreams? So far, mine have featured you (that’s right, Miss Elly) and Aunt Becky. Who will be next?

  12. Good lord, Turducken is like some sort of avian abomination. The bird version of Silence of the Lambs. You have some messed up shit in your country man.

    I do wonder if a chicken inside a woman would be called a “Snatchcock”?

    1. Call the SyFy Channel and tell them the Name of the next movie is called Snatchcock vs. Mongolian Death Worm. Vapid can brief you on the worms stats.

  13. Some people REALLY love chicken.

    Or, wait, wait…

    Which came first, the chicken or that lady?

    Or, hold on…

    Usually it’s the human that stuffs the chicken!

  14. You know what? People suck! Yeah, you heard me, they suck (oh and not in a good way). Why, you ask? Well let me tell you. Not once EVER has someone told me I was in their sexual fantasy! I know. I can hardly believe it myself. So until such time when I have found my proper place, as the hot seductress I am, I have decided to give up on humanity. That is all.

  15. OMG. You know about Human Centipede too?! My asshole of a husband (hi honey I love you) showed me this article with PICTURES!!!!!! I have’t been able to get it out of my head. Did you read about when he auditioned he was slapped quite a few times as soon as the actresses heard what they were supposed to do? Ugh. So basically he ended up with the two women who were brave enough to stay. Stuff nightmares are made of. Yes, I hit my husband whenever I think of the movie. And he quietly takes it.

  16. Thanksgiving is truly the only time of year I enjoy cooking. I go all out and the more people here.. the better. Course when dinner is over I do NOT clean up… I leave that to the family. Its their contribution.

  17. I want to slit my wrist every time I hear turducken. My brother in law who is very very annoying tells a story every Christmas about how he fucking had turducken in Germany and I want to beat him over the head.

    I guess I won’t tell you about the pimple on my vagina. Noper.

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