The Lurkey Turkey

     No one likes a creepy turkey (or a creepy person for that matter, you know you have one hiding in your bushes right now waiting for a peek of your world class ass.) When I think of a turkey I think of these guys.

(This is actually my sisters first turkey she killed. It now sits forever on a fake tree branch. These guys also like to hang out in bushes like creepy people but I'm sure they don't care for your ass.)

     It turns out that most of our Thanksgiving turkeys are actually white and creepy looking so I don't feel so bad about eating them anymore. There are many ways to prepare turkey, but I always get a young turkey around 10 pounds or so and cook the (now creepy) bastard in my crotch pot. I know, I know everyone says this is dangerous because it sits in the "danger zone" for too long. But I have not died yet and the turkey is so damn good that I don't care. This year I also prepared turkey a different way. A way that will leave you in a diabetic coma.

     These are my tiny turkey dinner cupcakes that I made from this website. I changed mine up a bit from theirs and made the cranberry sauce with red gel frosting because it looks more like the gross crap from the can. I had to order those damn green nonpareils online because I live in super rural Germany, but I got such a large container that I will never want/need green nonpareils again.

Raging Bull

     My mother is FINALLY going back home tomorrow. The past week and a half have reminded me exactly why I don't want children, the stupid questions. I want to know who it was that said, "There is no such thing as a stupid question." I would submit to them my mother. "Does Burger King have burgers here?" This was the best one. I guess the thing that pisses me off the most is when she asks a question with an answer she could figure out herself if she would just fucking think before she speaks. I think she just likes to talk. I have no clue but I am filled with utter disbelief that one person could pretend to be so fucking stupid, or at least I certainly hope she is pretending. Then there is the "child speak" as I call it. I don't know if she thinks she is being cute but you know when children can't pronounce their r's when they are first learning to speak? Well she talks like this on purpose sometimes and I want to scream at her every. single. time. I think my husband and I need a vacation from this vacation.
    

Captain's Log: Day 1

     Woke up at 0500 this morning to pick up the motherslice from Brussels International. Upon first meeting, the motherslice was tired but in good spirits. The ride back to home base was enjoyable.
     0845 arrive at home base. Showed the motherslice around home base and settled in to do some crocheting, and by crocheting I mean spying. So far there has been no tension between homesliceable and the motherslice. Motherslice is very interested in husbandslices Modern Warfare game.
     1005 the motherslice begins to show signs of sleepiness and begins to irritate the homesliceable as the motherslice keeps watching the homesliceable croche...Spy. Homesliceable suggests that the motherslice go to sleep.
     1226 the motherslice is still asleep, all is well. But homesliceable believes that the cows next door are really Soviet spies come to steal her Guinness Kitty.

Dust Bunny Gladiators

     The mother ship is coming all the way to Germany to visit her youngest brood. This means that I had to go into a cleaning frenzy so as to not face the wrath of the mother. Our storage room was in the worst shape. We could barely open the door without fear of something landing on us and bringing a swift dead. After much sorting, swearing, and anger our storage room now looks like this.

Holy shit Batman! There is a carpet in there. This room contains all of our summer clothes, sporting goods, and electronics that can't be used because of the voltage difference over here. Most notably my mother fucking space heater which I can't survive the winter without and now just sits in here mocking me during those chilly winter nights. Screw you Europe, I am so over you.
     The worst part about purging is of course, the garbage. In the states it would be fine, you pack it all up in your car and take it to the dump. But here in Hitler's Germany you have to separate your trash into a million different bins and even then you don't have enough room in these bins for all your hoarded trash because they expect a family to be able to go a whole month and only produce one bag of garbage. So the trash bin holds exactly one bag of garbage.

This is all the garbage we need to recycle. See those boxes, they are all stuffed to the brim with even more paper and boxes. The only way for us to get all of this out of our house is to take it to the Army base in the Netherlands. We will not be going there before my mother gets here. YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?? After all of that hard work to clean out our deathtrap of a storage room, my mother is still going to see all the mess.  

This is Halloween!

     Halloween is my favorite holiday. The past three years it has been a bit sad for me though as Germans, and most of Europe for that matter, do not celebrate Halloween. I love the season, the awesome baked goods, and of course the slutty costumes. Who would DARE question that Snow White wore a two piece stomach and ass bearing ensemble. Not this chick.

     The good news is that one of the military organizations hosts an adult Halloween party every year, so that the sluttiest of the slutty costumes can be on display! I actually have always had fun at these things and this year my husband and I volunteered to work as bar tenders. I had so much fun, even when the smoke from the live band caused the alarms to go off, even when another girl showed up in my costume because there is only one costume store here and everyone goes there, even when I, the bartender, had to cut myself off. Lumpia in reverse is actually not so bad, so store that in the back of your mind.
     Usually I bake a plethora of Halloween themed desserts and send them to work with Jon. This is hilarious to me because he works on teeth. At least my baking should help them all keep their jobs. This year many of my desserts went terribly wrong. But I've always managed to turn them into something not so, "I'm a housewife who thinks she bakes cute things and then blogs about them when they really look like shit." That is until this guy came along.

    
He was just supposed to be a ghost, but my homemade fondant tore, my gel frosting ran, and I was pissed. So I turned him into a Boo from the Super Mario Bros. because that was the only logical thing to do, obviously.
    

Pygmy Marmosets

     Let me begin by letting you know that my grammar and sentence structures are atrocious. If you have OCD this is not the blog for you. I'm starting this as a place to post all of my daily life highlights, which are pretty much non-existent as a housewife with no children.
     Now a short intro about me, I left the Air Force in 2007 after spending 4 years as a weather forecaster. Shortly after my separation, my husband got orders to Geilenkirchen, Germany. I thought this would be great but this base is so damn small that you could blink and miss it. Employment opportunities include working at the daycare center, or stocking shelves. I would rather peel my own skin off than do either of these tasks. So for the past 3 years I have been a housewife. This is finally all about to change.
     Last month the man that lives with me got orders to Elmendorf AFB, Alaska! That exclamation point is saying a lot as I am hardly ever excited about anything. I will finally be able to go to school full time and start draining the life from my G.I. Bill much like the Air Force drained the life from me for 4 years. I have many many years of school still as I ultimately hope (read: am selling my soul to the Devil if I have to) to apply to medical school.
     Now that I have my very first blog done, I have to get back to Azeroth, or bake some shit.

Word to your mother, homesliceable.