Gobble Gobble Gobble

Upon reading the title, I completely understand why your dirty little mind immediately conjured up a small, comfy room, covered in thick plush carpeting — which rests below a baby oil coated, translucent plastic tarp. Eight, beautiful bare young women of assorted sizes and shapes slip and slide, kiss and tease, bite and sample the girl in front of them (or under them, or on top of them, or in their mouths or in their pussies), all the while swapping each other’s spit, saliva, sweat and juices … often unable to identify which of their lovers they are feasting upon.

I like the way you think. However, my turkey day was a bit more traditional.

My best friend, Nick, and I made the 300-mile drive from our small, sleepy town on the outskirts of Las Vegas to Los Angeles in just under 5 hours. As they have so many times before, my bff, Kelly Nichols, and her best friend have offered to share their home with us for the holidays — the first of many things I was grateful for this turkey day.

I spent every single second available with my son, each second perfect in its unpredictability, and its honesty.

We celebrated family, friends and food. Lots of food.

We survived the inevitable holiday drama caused by either the one lone diva/divo or, that couple or the drunk.

Nudged by the aroma permeating from each of the dishes I prepare-the best mashed potatoes-ever, the best green bean salad-ever, the best oyster stuffing-ever, the best creamed mushrooms-ever, the best Caesar salad-ever, the best sweet potatoes-ever and the best hot buns and rolls-ever turned out brilliantly and were all hot and ready at the same time. For a moment I got to feel as though I was cooking Thanksgiving dinner with my grandfather again.

Our holiday was as perfect as it could be.

Having previously made the “fish and family” mistake by either exceeding the highly recommended three days stay as a guest, or even worse being forced at family-point into living indefinitely with the ever-spoiling loved ones, we prearranged a three day stay, and stuck to our guns so as no one got hurt.

ginger lynnginger lynn

Now, off to pick up a plastic tarp, 8 bottles of lube and 8 beautiful girls. … Gobble Gobble … Gobble


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