I did, in fact, I spent a good part of Christmas Day beating the snot out of my nine year old niece....
....in boxing on the Nintendo Wii.
Which I must say it is a workout for a someone with a metabolism akin to a tree sloth like myself, but it was all in good fun.
As the family's chef in residence I was put in charge of roasting the family turkey, which I did to perfection, but the road to that perfect poultry almost led me to murder.
You see, my sister, who was hosting our Xmas feast, needed a new roasting pan that was big enough for the monster bird we purchased. So I went down to the local big box store to get a roasting pan, simple right?
First, I found the very last large roasting pan in the entire store. Lucky for me, or was it?
Now the pan had a price tag that said $19.97, and I went to the "Express Check Out" for speedy service because my ride was waiting for me outside.
As the wise man Apu once said: "The express line is the fastest not always."
I got to the checkout, and there we found that someone had ripped the bar code off the box. I thought that wasn't going to be a problem since it had a price tag, but the pimply faced teen working the check-out told me that he didn't have the authority to accept the price tag, and called his supervisor.
His supervisor, a delicate flower of a lady with the ink still wet on her prison tats, showed up and said that the pubescent clerk had to go to housewares and look for some sign of the price. I tried to explain that there was nothing there other than the price tag on the box, but they had to investigate it themselves, leaving me to stew at the "express" checkout for what seemed like an eternity and a half.
Now I'm a fairly laid back person, who is slow to anger, and I'm even more laid back at Xmas time, being chock full of peace on Earth and good will toward men, but this was starting to try my patience. Then the teen titan clerk returned, admitted that I wasn't lying about there being no other roasting pans or any signs saying "Roasting Pans $19.97" and then proceeded to call his supervisor again.
The supervisor then called the manager, who then must have consulted the Elvish runes of his Dark Lord Sauron, because he soon called back and gave them permission to use the company's own price tag.
All the while I was fighting the urge to just Hulk out and completely ruin everyone's Xmas with a flurry of fatal cash register beatings up the corporate food chain, going all the way up to the store's CEO. It wasn't the morality of committing fatal cash register beatings during the Xmas season that stopped me, but the fact that I don't like to Hulk out without my stretchy pants on.
By the time it was over I had literally spent over half an hour at the "express" check out trying to pay for my purchase like an honest man.
Anyway, everyone got out alive, so it truly was a Xmas miracle, and another miracle was the turkey I cooked on that pan, which was perfection itself.
The toughest part of cooking a turkey is getting the dark meat of the legs cooked without drying out the white meat, and I stumbled on the solution.
The key is to start the cooking with the oven at 450 degrees. Yes 450. You put the turkey in the oven at that high temperature with the dark meat side up for an hour.
Then you take the bird out, turn down the heat to 325 degrees, flip the bird with the white meat now facing up, and cook it for the recommended time per pound, basting periodically, but not as much as you'd think.
The turkey will be done when the dark meat's internal temperature is at 185 degrees, so an instant read thermometer is a must have.
It creates a perfectly juicy turkey that everyone will love.
Anyway, that was my Xmas adventure, I hope yours was comparatively free of contemplated homicide.