A lady was picking through the frozen turkeys at the grocery store, but couldn’t find one big enough for her family. She asked a stock boy, “Do these turkeys get any bigger?”
The stock boy replied, “No ma’am, they’re dead.”
A first-time Thanksgiving chef called Marge Klindera, a 20+ year Talk-Line veteran, in tears on Thanksgiving morning last year. She was so proud to have thawed the turkey successfully and continued to rinse the turkey–with dish soap! The tears had started flowing when the turkey wouldn’t stop sudsing.
Another confused cook called the Butterball hotline after cleaning her turkey because she wanted to know how to get the metal pieces out. "Apparently,’ said one of the Butterball economists, "she had scrubbed her bird with a steel scouring pad."
A West Coast woman who had taken anti-bacterial precautions too far called Butterball to find out how to get the bleach she’d used off her bird.
When a Talk-Line staffer asked a different caller what state her turkey was in (meaning how thawed was it) the caller replied, "Florida."
A young girl phoned on behalf of her mother who needed roasting advice. To provide approximate roasting times, the home economist asked what size the turkey was. Without asking her mother, the little girl paused and then said, "Medium."
“Thanksgiving, man! Not a good day to be my pants.”
“You can tell you ate too much for Thanksgiving when you have to let your bathrobe out.”
The GOOD Napkins
My mother taught me to read when I was four years old (her first mistake). One day, I was in the bathroom and noticed one of the cabinet doors was ajar. I read the box in the cabinet. I then asked my mother why she was keeping "napkins" in the bathroom. Didn't they belong in the kitchen? Not wanting to burden me with unnecessary facts, she told me that those were for "special occasions" (her second mistake).
Now fast forward a few months...It was Thanksgiving Day, and my folks were leaving to pick up my uncle and his wife for dinner. Mom had assignments for all of us while they were gone. Mine was to set the table.
When they returned, my uncle came in first and immediately burst into laughter. Next came his wife who gasped and then began giggling. Next came my father, who roared with laughter. Finally came Mom, who almost died of embarrassment when she saw each place setting on the table with a "special occasion" napkin at each plate, with the fork carefully arranged on top. I had even tucked the little tails in so they didn't hang off the edge!
My mother asked me why I used these and, of course, my response sent the other adults into further fits of laughter: "But, Mom, you SAID they were for special occasions!"