Heeeeeeeeeeeeere's Maks!

Meet our very own Maksim Chmerkovsky! Checking in at a whopping twenty one pounds, Maksim is my pride and manly joy. He gives me that feeling that most guys get when standing at the grill, banning the womenfolk to the kitchen to take care of drinks. He brings out my testosterone and makes me want to do the Vince McMahon pimp walk around the kitchen. Only, not really cause my hip hurts, but the want is still there.

Ahh Thanksgiving, when I get to play Gordon Ramsey and wave spatulas around. Is there a particular reason they don't make bigger turkeys? I mean, sure, twenty one pounds is nice, but I'd gladly pay for a thirty-pounder.

What's that you say? I was just blogging about coming from a tiny family and not having enough people to cook for? Pshaw... Remember I'm Hispanic. I lie. And Frankly. it's getting a little hard to feed four and a half people on a scrawny twenty pounds. Thank God that I picked up ten pounds of Yukon gold potatoes for mash, or we'd all be starving like one of those Christmas Carol movies with the poor people in them.

I mean, sure, the stuffing and the cranberry jelly will help take up some of the room in my family's stomach's, but should I really have to resort to that? Bigger turkeys people. We need 'em.


-Angelwick.