Traditionally on this holiday, I have one job.
A single responsibility.
My wife cooks the turkey. She makes the stuffing. She bakes the pies. She sets the table and cleans up. She's awesome that way.
The one thing she will not do, however, falls to me. That one, holiday-centric task is this:
I must remove the thing-that-must-not-be-named.
I have to reach inside the bird and remove the loose turkey neck from the innards, and -- along with the little packet of turkey guts -- spirit it away before my wife sees it. I have no idea why, but if she is forced to do this deed herself, she will literally gag. I've witnessed this, and it's the funniest thing ever.
So this morning, I will do my part. I will pull the giant penis-neck thing from the pale, cold bird carcass, and I will wrap it in a plastic bag and throw it in the garbage.
First, of course, I must honor the JV Thanksgiving tradition and chase her with it, just once, around the kitchen.
As you've probably surmised, I never get laid on thanksgiving.