tangerinegreen555
Well-Known Member
I think the moral of that story is fuck turkey legs.The story is long and tedious, but the high points are
1) me high as an astronaut's boner on C99 extract
2) a grilled turkey leg with the approximate texture and resilience of a tire belt
3) the gastric kick taking me hard
4) me bent into a 55-gallon trash drum trying mightily to puke
5) while straddling a show-ho who was barely conscious and even more barely dressed (I noticed with a sort of clinical detachment that I could see her genitalia when the thong (a coupla sizes too large) shifted to this side or that).
I horrified the folks with me that day. Since then I chew my food better and avoid max-tensile poultry.
My Italian grandma invited me over to dinner in the early '80's one day.
So I'm expecting ravioli or lasagna or at least spaghetti.
But no, it was turkey legs.
Last time I ate one. At Thanksgiving dinners, I scrape the meat off them and treat the dog.