As is standard over the last several years, Jester and I traversed the Midwest in search of the most Thanksgiving dinners within a four-day period.
It began simply enough, with a drive to Roanoke Thursday morning to Jester's family's homestead. It was a traditional Thanksgiving feast, with turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, rolls, and such. I hurt myself.
As you may recall, Jessie's mom bought a couple goats a few years ago. Their names are Frederick and Bernard. I don't trust them, and I'll tell you why: they're goats. Seriously, look at this:
Would you trust an animal whose pupil is nothing more than a horizontal bar? The answer is no, Greg.
Of course the big news is that Jessie's mom, for reasons that are unclear to most other family members, recently purchased a cow. Upon first hearing this, I thought, "Sweet, I've always wanted to slaughter my own cow after riding it naked for like twenty minutes while whistling 'Patience.'" Then I found out it was a lady cow -- and a pregnant one at that -- which means nothing to me, other than the potential for veal in a few months. Anyway, here is a picture of Savannah, aka Sweet Georgia Brown, aka Molly Brown:
One of the reasons I like Savannah is that the goats are petrified of her (they share a pen). One of the reasons I don't like Savannah is because she could kill me in an instant.
Friday we saw Four Christmases, which was predictably average with some funny parts.
Saturday, Jester, Harley, and I packed up The Blaab and headed down the road to Bloomington to my dad's house. Reed and Sarah were already there, and they insisted that we go to Sonic for lunch upon our arrival. Liking hilarious commercials and chicks on rollerblades, we obliged. While eating some chili cheese fries, Jessie splattered chili all over her white shirt, declaring (in a robot voice, for some reason), "I AM CHILI TIT!"
Later, we went to the new Sahara Mart, which is on Third Street near College Mall. They have over 1000 different beers, all available for purchase. I came in my pants a little. But back to Saturday, I was fairly elated as I filled my cart while drowning out Jessie's pleading. "Andrew! Why won't you call me Chili Tit?!"
For dinner, we had a delicious rack of pork. No one declared themselves a pork rack tit, except for me.
Sunday morning, we headed up to the LaPorte area to Jessie's dad's house. In case you were wondering, the sun was not shining when we drove past West Lafayette. Upon our arrival, we were treated to something called upside-down pizza, which is kind of like pizza, but the crust is on top and the toppings are on the bottom. It was delicious.
I think I'm having the ol' meat shakes today. Also, I'm pretty sure Drew Rosenhaus is a giant ball of shit. Listening to him speak is painful.