Here’s the opposite of a perfect Thanksgiving (or you could order from us)
...and my observation of what happens when you don’t have someone help you catch your Thanks-for-over-giving “blind spots”:
You happily and gracefully invite 14 of your friends & family to spend a relaxing Thanksgiving at your place. Two days before Thanksgiving you are talking to a friend who mentions how hard it was to find a turkey! WHAT! OMG! Desperation time! Who should we call? And,once you do call, you're put on hold for 19 minutes while you wait to find out if there’s still time to place an order for a $150, 10-pound, organic turkey. You’re told no, so you call for emergency help, the sister (or friend etc.) who’s not critical and picky, and everyone you trust (to not tell your Thanksgiving guests that you forgot to order the turkey), you receive a text from your sister that there’s one turkey left in LA. You have to be at the Westlake Ralph’s no later than 5 to pick it up, it’s 3:15 and you have an important meeting, you leave work immediately, cancel the important meeting, fight cross town traffic and 3 freeways for 97 minutes, barely get to the store fearing you’ll lose the big bird and have to serve chicken, fight for a parking space once you arrive, fight for a grocery cart and pry it out of the hands of the sweet older lady who you happily help to load 8 bags into her Tesla, promise yourself that you will NOT have 8 bags when you exit the store, almost crap your pants because you can’t find your grocery list, berate yourself for not putting it on Evernote, find your grocery list in a ball on the floor of your car splattered with brown spots of coffee that was left in your Intelligentsia cup or the one from Blue Bottle? You enter the store, encourage yourself to be out of here in 20 minutes, fight your way through the crowd, fight for 3 cans of whole organic cranberries, surrender one because you realize this bitch will lose an eye if she keeps coming at you, and you promised yourself you wouldn’t fight over the little stuff anymore! Then, arrive at the turkey line just in time to meet Bob...
The turkey guy (Bob) assures you your turkey is waiting.
While Bob is gone, you have to fight off Barbra, a woman who wants to give you an extra $200 and claims her husband is going to divorce her if she comes home without a turkey. Considering taking the $200 but think about how mad/disappointed/critical your mother will be if there’s no turkey, you leave Barbra in tears with Bob. Starting on item 1 of your 57 item list, you’re savvy and understand the grid of grocery store layouts so you realize that the store has cleverly moved things around to force you down each aisle, which is what you’re going to have to do to get everything you need, you agonize that it takes you 20 minutes just to make your way through the toilet paper and cleaning supplies aisle, after 73 minutes of zigging and zagging your way through sections with products you haven’t seen since childhood, like jello and Kool-Aid, you discover that there’s not a single loaf of gluten free bread anywhere, you reluctantly choose to go with the boxed GF stuffing which seems like a sacrilege since every generation of your family has prided themselves on the family stuffing and might resurrect themselves from the dead if they knew you were using boxed stuffing, a slow stroll through the produce proves that there are no shitakes or cremini so you decide to forgo the mushrooms in your famous gravy, you wait in line for 26 minutes, to pass the time and not go cray cray you read about Kim Kardashian’s surrogate, learn that Jennifer Lawrence has a girl crush on Kim and got buck naked in Kim’s closet when she had dinner there last week, you wonder what they had for dinner, you try not to talk to or look at the guy behind you who only has 2 items, you think about what a shit you are for not letting him go ahead and know that if you do, the register will break or the cashier will change shifts and you’ll wait another 26 minutes for doing this damn good deed, you let the guy go ahead of you because of your guilt and that gratitude challenge you took on this month, you wave to the guy you let move ahead of you and he says, “Happy Thanksgiving”, you say, “Happy”, and stop there because just as you’re ready to pull your card out you notice that the cashier is locking the register and handing the key to a kid who smiles at you with his tongue piercing and purple Mohawk (didn’t those go out of style?), you say, “Thanks… fucking, I mean giving” as you watch the Mohawk kid open the register that was just locked, you notice that there’s only one key and you silently question why they lock and then unlock the register if there’s only one damn key, you begin a fast spiral into despair as Mohawk kid counts pennies and marks the total on a piece of paper on his clipboard, you try not to think about how long it will take you to get back to the Westside, wonder why you didn’t just accept the invitation to go to your friend’s house even though she uses boxed stuffing, watch as Mohawk kid slowly counts each coin and dollar in the register, you know you could do it faster, you catch the judgment and think about your Vipassana teaching, you sigh out loud and look around to see if there’s another, faster line for you to get into, you realize there’s not, you see Mohawk kid look at you, catch his perma-smile and get that he thinks you’re a dick, you wait 16 minutes while he counts and writes and you think about why Ralph’s doesn’t have a computerized process for the f’ing register, you wish you would have bought the turkey here and driven to Whole Foods in Venice to get everything else, especially since Amazon bought Whole Foods and you’re sure they have computerized register updates, as you count backwards from 100 for the third time and do breath if fire as quietly as possible, you realize you forgot to grab at least 4 additional large recyclable bags, you think about how badly you’ve failed at that recycling challenge you started last January, while you continue to wait you read People magazine from cover to cover and get pissed off at The Bachelor and Bachelorette, you check your vibrational energy and realize you’re probably somewhere around a 120, close to seething, you smile, adjust your shoulders, stand in a Super Hero pose like you learned from Amy Cuddy on a TED talk, you do feel better, you pick up O Magazine and read Things I Know for Sure on the last page, Oprah reminds you that holidays are stressful and self care is essential, Mohawk kid stops counting money, the conveyer belt starts running, your groceries get priced, you appreciatively put Oprah back on the rack, finally swipe your card, shake your head at the $5 hundred dollar and change receipt and think this could have been a car payment or two, as you exit you notice that daylight has turned to night, you push your tiny cart with all 8 bags to your car, mutter under your breath about how you were NOT going to do this, breathe 3 times and look at the star filled sky, say a prayer of gratitude, happily accept help from the guy who can’t find a cart and whose wife sent him to pick up a list of stuff that’s at least twice as long as yours, turn on Holiday songs and fight your way home thru traffic, brake for the dude on the bike in dark clothes who rips across the street and forces you to slam on your brakes so the bag with the delicate stuff that you placed really carefully falls on top of the dinner rolls officially turning them into pancakes, see that it’s 8:23 and remember that you thought you’d be home by 6:00, 6:30 at the latest, unload all of the bulging bags from your car, break the paper handle on one and watch the tomatoes and apples roll away, try to carry all the bags like they’re one giant mass and pretend that you’re an octopus, fail, also fail to find your house key even though you just had it in your hands when you locked the car with the remote, wonder if you locked the car, discover you didn’t, make trip after trip to the car and dump pile after pile of groceries in your entryway, take one look at it when you’ve finally retrieved everything except the tomatoes and apples, sit down and have a moment where you want to weep, say some affirmations, place your thumb and fingers in a stress relieving mudra, breathe 3 times, open your arms to the heavens, open your heart chakra to emerald light, open every cupboard, realize you don’t have any shelf space in your cupboards or pantry, consider your lingerie drawer and opt for the dishwasher, take the dishes out of the dishwasher, place the stuffing mix, bag of potatoes, bag of sweet potatoes, 2 cans of fried onion rings, 3 cans of mushroom soup, and 2 cans of cranberries inside the dishwasher, put the lemons, oranges and the bottle of sherry for the gravy in your lingerie drawer, try to shove the turkey in to your fridge, think about cutting the legs off to make it fit.
Wonder why you didn’t call Chef Aaron and order his "Friendsgiving" turkey meal, complete with 5 side dishes and dessert?
Open a bottle of white wine to save refrigerator space, drink a tall glass of wine to stop thinking about all the space you don’t have, have a flash of that scene from Pulp Fiction where Uma OD’s, realize how stressed you are, think about how in every scene in Pulp Fiction when John Travolta goes to the bathroom shit hits the fan, realize your brain is trying to tell you to go to the bathroom, go to the bathroom, realize that you don’t have to pee, get what your brain is really trying to tell you, get buck naked like Jennifer Lawrence, get the Bon Mai because you don’t use Ajax, clean out your bathtub, add ice to keep the turkey cold, find out your sister/assistant/friend ordered you a Butterball turkey and not the organic one, be grateful for what you do have, discover your damn drain leaks, express gratitude for the leak, grab the damn cooler out of the damn coat closet, move the damn ice from the tub to the damn cooler, shove the bird in the cooler, notice, dammit, that one arm or leg or whatever it is, is sticking out, try to put the bird into a chokehold, fail, wrap the chain from your bike lock around it, which seems to work, wish you had a bigger refrigerator, wish you had a pantry, wish you had bought Chef Aaron’s fucking feast, put your robe on, fill the coat closet with the Perrier, Voss water that your mother wanted, 4 bottles of white wine and 5 bottles of red, drink some more wine, acknowledge that you don’t have enough counter space either, wish you had more counter space, be grateful for the counter space you do have, unpack everything that needs to be refrigerated and put it in the bathtub, place the remaining non-perishable items on the kitchen table, realize that you could have set the table but now you can’t, wish you had a bigger table, express gratitude for the table you do have, remember when you didn’t have a table, wish you had more gratitude on a more regular basis, wish you had colored your hair when your colorist was available last Saturday instead of going to that all day yoga and tapping retreat, wish you lived somewhere else with more counters and closets and space, OM 3 times, decide to be playful and fun, do laughing yoga and stack everything in the fridge like you’re playing Lego’s, acknowledge that you can’t even fit one bottle of wine in there and recall how bad you were at Lego’s, drink some more wine, turn on Spotify and listen to The Clash, dance and drink out of the bottle, get a little freaked out when it sinks in that this is going to take 3 people who haven’t had any wine at least 30 hours to cut and dice and chop and mince, order Thai food from Uber Eats so that you can get your Thanksgiving on and deal with what tomorrow will bring, fall asleep half drunk, get up too late to stuff the turkey, say screw that because when you Googled “stuffing a turkey” while you were just on the toilet almost every expert claimed it would poison your guests anyway, wash your hands for 50 seconds because the articles said that was mandatory, grab the turkey out of the bathtub, realize that one side of it is frozen and it actually looks like it’s flipping you off, forget the combination to your bike lock, take a hot shower with the bird holding ot by the chain to thaw it out, which does not work, suddenly remember the combination to your bike lock, get out of the shower soaking wet, rush to drop the turkey into your kitchen sink, unlock and unwind the chain, set the turkey free, run back to the bathroom, turn off the water, wrap a towel around you, get your hair dryer and thaw the flipping bird, wash it, salt it, season it, push garlic under its skin, notice that it looks like it’s flipping you off again, rub butter on it, squeeze lemon over it, truss it, put it in the foil pan you bought and nearly drop the flimsy thing as you try to shove it in the oven, where it will not go, place it carefully, yet precariously on the counter, move the oven racks to make space for it, realize that nothing else, not the fucking pancake dinner rolls, the green bean casserole or the sweet potatoes and marshmallows your Grandma taught you how to cook when you were 10 are going to fit in the oven, set the timer, go outside to get the apples and tomatoes from underneath the neighbor’s car, find the Thai food on your doorstep with a note that says Uber Eats Loves You, have some cold Thai food, drink a splash of wine, realize that you drank the best bottle of white wine and only have the 4 cheap ones left, pull everything out of the dishwasher and your coat closet, the lingerie drawer, and off the dining room table, search your cupboards for sage and thyme, only find the thyme, realize that you’re running out of time, wonder if Chef Aaron has time to make you an extra turkey dinner, think about the pies that have to be made, the peas with pearl onions, the stuffing from scratch, the mashed potatoes and gravy, mac n cheese, say fuck it to the green bean casserole and the sweet potatoes, text your friends to remind you to not do this shit next year, realize that you’re in for it, you’re going to be cooking all day and part of the night, based on the size of the bird, you won’t eat til 7:30 and you told everyone 4:00, realize that you still have to clean, prep, cook, broil, toast, baste, bake, marinate, boil, mash, stuff, whip, top and serve, eat, store the leftovers, clean up, have a turkey sandwich, and after all is said and done curled in a fetal position on the bathroom floor with the last cheap bottle of white wine that you hid before everyone arrived, you will have to admit to yourself that you spent $653.58 and 35 and ¼ hours for a 42 minute meal, you’re dog tired and even though you gave your friends and family tubs of food, you don’t have anyplace to put your leftovers.
- Order the Bull&Dragon Feast today
- Set the table the night before Thanksgiving
- Do whatever the F you want all day on Thanksgiving
- Sit down in gratitude for and with your friends & family and have a delicious Thanksgiving that you’ll all remember forever
Get a pre-set Thanksgiving dinner package delivered to your home! Order this special through November 30th by emailing or clicking here or whatever! We accept smoke signals this month too...