So I was thinking about Thanksgiving,
which made me think about turkeys,
and I realized ...
I'm not a spring chicken anymore!
It's so true, sadly.
I realize it, you see,
because I happen to work
with spring chickens.
Smart, savvy, little chickens.
Young chicks who wear leggings
and boots and
look all cute and teacher-ish
in their cute little glasses
and slipper shoes and
cute hair.
See, I think I can keep up with them,
and I tell them that and
i try to make them think I'm cool
like them,
and I pretend like I understand what some new weird food is
that they all like,
even though I've really never even heard of it...
and they listen to music that I'm not
really even sure what category it fits under,
and I just blare my 70's music right back at them,
except they probably laugh at me,
and then they notice my eyeliner has smeared,
or that my hair is frazzled or
that I have to run to the bathroom for emergencies a lot...
and they know I'm not a spring chicken like them.
They can tell.
I remember when I was the young chick at school.
Now, I'm just a turkey.
Good ol' traditional, plump turkey!!!
But I can still strut my stuff.
And DON'T ruffle my tail-feathers,
'cause my gobble way trumps your cluck.
How's that for an old stuffed bird!!
