Step 9. Hang up and decide to proceed.
Step 19. Turn the turkey around. Apparently there IS another opening. You know, where the head used to be. Oh, sheesh.
Step 25. Here's where you'll need those gloves. Because apparently you're expected to massage this bad boy all over with salt and pepper and what have you. Shudder.
Step 26. Leave this for your husband to clean up. You've dealt with enough already.
Step 27. Mom says the trick to a moist turkey is high heat, shorter amount of time. Heat the oven to 475 and set the timer for three hours.
Step 28. Pat yourself on the back for remembering mom so well.
Step 29. Totally forget what mom said about making a foil tent around the turkey so it won't burn on the outside.
Step 30. Slide that baby into the oven. Done! Now all you have to do is wait!
Step 31. Wait.
Step 32. Wait.
Step 33. Wait. For crap sake, it's been three hours! What the heck is wrong with this pimply fowl?
Step 34. Wait. Explain to mom - who has just arrived for dinner - that it's still cooking. After telling the story, try hard not to have a nervous breakdown when informed that your turkey was MOST DEFINITELY still frozen when placed in the oven.
Step 35. Order Mexican. From the new restaurant you've been wanting to try. The night's not a total bust.
Step 36. Remove the turkey from the oven around midnight. The skin's nice and crispy - i.e. slightly charred. Who likes that part anyway?
So now you've got a fully cooked turkey and you've already eaten dinner. What to do with all that bird??? Sandwiches obviously! Just wait till next week. I promise it will be much more mouth watering than this.
Sorry if I made you loose your lunch. Now you know how I felt.