Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.
Like you, we will be partaking in all the usual traditions. There will be two turkeys, one (the big one) roasted, and a smaller backup turkey, smoked on the grill. There will be dull football games playing on the bigscreen TV. Games whose outcome means nothing to anyone at our celebration. And there will be ample excuses to exceed my daily allotment of bourbon.
18 excuses to be exact, including all my sisters-in-law, who, let's just say, have been blessed with the gift of gab.
But this year, thanks to a tip from my niece (who just got her Master's degree and is looking for a job, nudge, nudge) we'll be doing something I'm pretty sure your family will not.
You see, last week her and her boyfriend were watching the Jimmy Fallon show. He and his guest, Jason Sudeikus, agreed to play a little game of Russian Egg Roulette. It's based on the same premise as Russian Roulette, but in this case the game is not played with blanks and bullets. It's played with eggs, hard boiled and not hard boiled.
So after the turkey is eaten and before the Tryptophan sets in, the men will adjourn to the backyard. And then we will engage in a round robin tournament armed with only with our courage and three dozen Grade AA generic brand eggs.
Because what better way to thank the Lord for his blessings than to drunkenly smash that bounty against our foreheads and permanently stain our recently-pressed Oxford shirts?
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