Who's the Turkey?

I got an email forward this week about a turkey story. (I forwarded it to many of you, but I want to post this for the world to see.) It was told by a woman who was having Thanksgiving dinner at her sister's house. When the sister ran out to pick some last-minute item, their mom decided to play a joke. She emptied the stuffing from the turkey, put a Cornish game hen in there, then put the stuffing back in over it. The sister came home and cooked it without any idea of what her mom had done.

When the turkey was cooked, the sister began removing the stuffing and found the game hen inside. Their mom said, "You've cooked a pregnant turkey!" and the sister began to cry. It took the whole family two hours to convince her that turkeys lay eggs. And yes, this sister is blonde.

Now, here's the part that concerns me, and concerns me when I read many blonde jokes: I totally understand where she was coming from. As I read this story, I was thinking, Why have I never come across this sort of thing before? It wasn't until the end, when the writer explains the bit about laying eggs, that I really got it.

Between these instances and the technology thing, I feel like that race of aliens on Star Trek: The Next Generation that wasn't very evolved and kept saying, "We are smart. We make things go." Holly not smart. Holly not make things go. Holly eat peanut butter. Holly play trombone and make funny blog. Holly not cook turkey; Holly just eat it.

Oh, hey, this reminds me of something my Dad said to me last year. I was at my parents' house, hanging out with them in the kitchen. I started singing like a little kid, "La la laaaa, la la la laaaa." My Dad goes, "You know what I like about you, Holly? Sometimes it's almost impossible to tell that you're not retarded." And the thing about that is, it was a compliment. He thought it was cool. And to be honest, so do I.