Bite My Gobble-Gobble
Monday, March 8, 2010

With age comes wisdom. 

And wrinkles and fatty places that were never there before and this one hair that pops up constantly in the middle of my chin and then there's the inability to crash, anymore, wherever there is floorspace. I was boarding a flight recently when I noticed these kids with overstuffed backpacks waiting for a flight that had been delayed for hours. While everyone around them was grousing and relaying their flight statuses into their cell phones, and angrily plugging away on their laptops, these kids were sprawled out on the floor, mouths hanging open, sound asleep, oblivious to the misery around them. 

I was so jealous. 

Nowadays, I need my big, plumpy mattress, my down pillows, my whispery-soft sheets. 

Nowadays, I wouldn't dare sleep in public because I wouldn't be able to hold my stomach in while unconscious. 

Nora Ephron wrote a book a few years back, "I Feel Bad About My Neck And Other Thoughts On Being A Woman."

I didn't get what she was referring to at the time. I wish I still didn't. 

I was in the Costco recently and as I whizzed through the makeup aisle, a bold sign captured my attention. It read in huge block letters, mocking me for all the world to see, "Got Turkey Neck?"

I stopped in my tracks. Here was a ginormous display of Strivectin Neck Cream with the words emblazoned across the package, matching the huge display, asking the hideous question, "Got Turkey Neck?"

I stood there a good 10 minutes contemplating that damn cream.

I thought, "Why yes, yes I do have turkey neck and it is unfortunate enough that I have it, without you, you douche bag company taunting me over it." I swear I felt like there were a bunch of 20-something year-old ad men, peeking out from behind that display with their peaches and cream complexions and their smooth necks, sing-songing and pointing, "You've got the turkeyyy neck! You've got the turkeyyy neck!"

I was sorely tempted to raise my middle finger at that damn display. 

Now, if it had been packaged in an ultra discreet, attractive looking jar, I would have snatched it up before you could let out a single gobble. 

Because, I am fighting this good fight with every bit of mettle I have and I did not need a stupid package announcing to the world what I have been trying to camouflage with artfully placed scarves. 

I couldn't buy it. No matter how much I needed its miracle salve, mainly, well . . . because of the hot, Latin cashier-man in my life. 

You see, I'm having a relationship with my Costco cashier-man. 

It's an unspoken torrid thing we've got going on. He flirts with me unabashedly and I acknowledge it with grateful adoration and my own expertise flirting skills. 

I've got mad flirting skills. 

He calls me, "Mi Amor" and he holds his hand to his heart when he declares he'd be hurt if if I was unfaithful and found myself in someone else's line. He comments on all my purchases, approving of my giant tubs of  hummus and my serious taste in French cheeses and my knowledge of the undiscovered wines, splendid in their taste, yet still under-the-radar priced. He is the one who taught me to microwave my Kashi bars for 12 seconds, just enough time to make the caramel warm and gooey. He tells me if I ever feel like sharing, when it comes to their ridiculous chicken pot pie or their sinful, unequivocally the world's best chocolate fudge cake, he's my man, as he smiles showing off his pearly straight whites in his big, handsome face. 

There was no way I would ruin our relationship with turkey neck cream. 

I really have to wonder, who labeled a woman's aging skin, turkey neck? Growing older has enough indignities. You realize this the first time you have a mammogram. But, at least squashing your taa-taa's into a pancake is a safeguard for your health. 

But, to be compared to a turkey's neck? 

I don't think you can get much more ugly. Think about it.

Here's a true story to cement my point:

When the Odawg was a kindergartner, we went to Grandma's Huggin' Farm. A wonderful, real-life farm where children are able to interact with animals— feeding chickens, milking cows, petting pigs, the whole manure and hay experience. 

The animals at this farm are so accustomed to children, they know who's inside that big yellow school bus when it pulls up right outside their fence. As I helped unload children, I was greeted by a phalanx of farm creatures racing up to greet us. 

It was the most delightful sight, dozens of animals big and small scurrying to greet our little tykes. I was so caught up in their friendliness, it took me a second to realize the children were screaming. I turned back to the little tykes just in time to see them fleeing to the safe confines of the bus as they shrieked, "THE TURKEYS! THE TURKEYS!" 

I turned back to the barnyard to check out the source of their distress and there, right on the front lines, racing to greet the children were a whole gang of those creepy looking gobblers. 

I'd never thought about how incredibly hideous they were, before. So unsightly, they frightened the snot out of kindergartners. 

The only other experience I'd had with turkeys was one of bright, happy memories. 

Mainly because the thought of turkeys brought back the days when I was young with no use for turkey neck cream or tweezers stashed in my purse, ready at all times, to pluck out that damn chin hair. 

See, once long ago, when the world was a brighter place, I used to have this side job for an organization called Ducks Unlimited. 

I was, what you might call, a Hostess with the Mostest. 

Ducks Unlimited is devoted to the conservation of wetlands and waterfowl.

On paper, that is. 

Here in the Deep South, Ducks Unlimited is an organization for hunters with deep pockets

And do not hate me, Internet. I had no moral code back then. I was more about the cash paid under the table for a very cushy job. 

My cushy job entailed milling about at their monthly dinners, talking it up with the hunters, encouraging them to empty their deep pockets for the organization, handing out duck calls, holding their raffle tickets and sitting by their side as their good luck charm, and for the most part, just basically flirting it up with some drunk, good old Southern boys. 

During those banquets, a few of those Southern boys taught me how to call a wild turkey. 

They proclaimed me a natural turkey caller. I figured they were just trying to get my young, single, non-turkey neck self to sit on their laps. Which I did NOT, I will state. Except for that one guy . . . the hot one, the only guy at the banquet under 40 without a pot belly and a wedding ring. 

I didn't give my turkey call another thought except at drunk times fun gatherings with friends, when I felt the need to gobble like the wildest of turkeys. 

But then, one day, many years later, when I was a wedded, more sedate girl, I found myself hiking in Muir Woods. As we walked the trails of this redwood forest, suddenly 2 turkeys waddled out of the underbrush. We stopped and quietly watched them until the thought occurred to me to let my own wild turkey, free. 

I trilled my gobble and to our hiking party's shock and delight, those 2 turkeys, just came scurrying over my way. And I have to say, when I saw those 2 uglies, every bit of their wattle just a-jiggling, I got a little frightened and hid behind my Hubby. 

So just so you know Internet, if you ever have a dire need for a turkey caller, as long as it doesn't involve killing the turkey, give me a ring. 

I've got mad turkey-calling skills. 

It's funny how the talk of turkeys defines 2 polar opposite moments of my womanhood. 

Somewhere between being paid to be the young, pretty thing in a room full of drunken good old boys to needing a cream that taunts my tired neck, I have known joy and sorrow, beauty and wisdom in every, one of the surrounding years. I have found love and birthed 3 children with my strong, capable body. I have lived a good life and discovered the truth that no matter my age, I will celebrate the beauty that it means to be called a woman.

It still sucks to have a turkey neck. 

A few days ago, I was at Sephora, my candy store, stocking up on a few essentials. To my surprise, there was a straight dude working behind the counter. He was quite a sullen young chap and I figured it was because he was probably taunted by his straight buddies for knowing way too much about plumping lipgloss. 

As he sullenly rang up my purchases, he informed me that I was eligible for a beauty bonus. He held out 3 products for me to choose from and there— there shining like the brightest beacon, was my turkey neck cream. 

I murmured, "I'll take the turkey neck cream."

He spat out, "What?"

I said quietly, "The turkey neck cream."

He said with great exasperation, "WhAT?"

I said, "Turkey Neck. Turkey Neck. TURKEY NECK, OKAY?"

I wanted to add, "Assbag."

But, I didn't. I'm a nice old hag. 

Catherine Denueve has said that aging should not be feared, but instead it should be gracefully welcomed. 

But, she's freakin' Catherine Denueve. She can welcome age all she wants with her stunning cheekbones and face like no other. No one's even going to consider her turkey neck with that kind of beauty. 

Crap, I wouldn't even bother to brush my hair, if I were Catherine  Denueve. But I'm not, so I am slathering on turkey neck cream. 

There I said it. 

The sample's almost gone and it's making my wattle look less . . .  wattley. 

So, I've got to pull out my secret weapon. The Hubby

He'll buy it. He's the best at that kind of thing. He's the tampon buyer for this House of Menstruation. 

Now, if I could just stumble across a cream that says, "Got Ab Fat?" We'd be all set.

Today's Magnificent Download: The Boss's "No Surrender." The live, stripped down, acoustical version. So much better than the frenzied, commercial score. The live version showcases the amazing storytelling abilities of Bruce. He was truly the Boss of Rock n Roll for my generation, more than worthy of his esteemed title. 

I did notice the last time he was in town, Bruce has not succumbed to the turkey neck cream. He could probably use a little. 

I also noticed that the man can arch himself backwards into a full backbend at the microphone without using anything but the strength that lies in his powerful 60-year old body. 

No Surrender, Man. No Surrender.

We made a promise we swore we'd always remember
No retreat no surrender
Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend
No retreat no surrender

Now young faces grow sad and old and hearts of fire grow cold
We swore blood brothers against the wind
I'm ready to grow young again
And hear your sister's voice calling us home across the open yards
Well maybe we could cut someplace of our own
With these drums and these guitars

Blood brothers in the stormy night with a vow to defend
No retreat no surrender


Lisa said...

I can't even think of what to comment because I am STILL laughing so hard!! What idiotic advertising agency thought it was a good idea to announce on the packaging "Got turkey neck"??? Really? Did they really think all the "mature" women would be going, "Oh ME! I have turkey neck!! Let me get some of this creme that announces to the whole world that I DO HAVE turkey neck!!!" Really??

And just so you know, when we finally get together one of these days and have our glass (or bottles) of wine overlooking one or the other lakes we live are SO going to be demonstrating that turkey call! Can't wait!

Hulk (Not willing to be just another notch...) said...

Here I thought I was special and all, with my Tuesday evenings...

Now you've got a guy from Costco??? How many days of the week ARE there in Florida anyway???

Joann Mannix said...


My Man, there is always enough love, always. Besides, Costco Man is during the DAY. Duh.

LisaPie said...

Uh yeah, marketing of that product leaves A LOT to be desired.

I used to have a close and deep personal relationship with my UPS man. Not the one who delivers, but the one at the UPS store. This was the first year both my chill'ren went off to college and left me. And I was at that damn UPS store every week sending them care packages from home. It's good to have someone who wants to take care of your needs even if it is only for a moment, isn't it?

And Joann? There is no question that this should be a no-judgment zone. The only ones who should be able to look down and judge us were Mother Teresa and Princess Diana, and since they both died on practically the same day I guess that means nope, no judging going on here!

Hulk (Who lives in a city that is known for its shootins' said...

Guess I'll have to find something to do when my plane gets in early...

Know anywhere a good 'ol northern boy could do some shootin'??

Ducky said...

Shoosh...turkey calling, costco love and a turkey wabble yourself? This is going to be a beautiful friendship!

Thanks for stopping by today at BCC. I'm returning the visit and settling in. Hope you don't mind another butt print on your couch....I'll take iced tea please...

Joann Mannix said...

Thank YOU, Daffy. I'm glad I found you girls.

Joann Mannix said...


I might know of a few. I also know where the best Hooters are . . just in case, you might be interested.

Christine Macdonald said...

First, they have stright men at Sephora?

Second - I wonder if we can get a two-for-one deal on that cream...

Lastly - Do you think Sephora has Belly Erase?


Unknown said...

Love your blog too! I am following back! Look forward to getting to know you~

Hulk (Who only looks at his plate when I'm at Hooters...) said...

I only go there for the wings and to read the articles...

Anonymous said...

Thanks for stopping by my blog today! Lovin' your blog!
I am in need of some neck cream.

MrsBlogAlot said...

Joann, you have clearly outdone yourself today !

Thanksgiving will have a whole new meaning in our house from now on. (-:

Turkey Neck, Crows Feet Farmer Brown. We need some old age feed!!!

Dawn in D.C. said...

Yes, I too hate turkey necks. And chin hairs. And mammograms. And hot flashes. And mood swings.

If all of this is payback for not having to carry heavy things, kill spiders or pump my own gas, I think I want to trade.

ProudSister said...

Our dear sister gave me one of the jars from the combo pack she bought at Costco, but she blissfully left the packaging at home. I've been using it for a couple of months without knowing I might have "turkey neck".

I too have the occasional chin hair but last week, I had the fantastic dark cheek hair that I didn't know was there until someone tried to wipe it off. There's nothing like a friend trying to get something off your face and then saying with a stunned look on her face, "oh sorry, its attached". Humiliation!

Brassy Apple said...

Hello hello!

stopping by from SITS!

DB in MD said...

Hello Joann,
Came over after your Miley Cyrus rant on June's blog (could not agree more, BTW)hoping to read more about Miss Miley. Instead, I'm snorting and giggling. Thanks for the laughs!

Joann Mannix said...

Hey DB!

Thanks for coming by. And here's your Miley Rant.

jennie.newland said...

Ok, that just made a certian HOT morning beverage come out of my nose!! LOL, I think I just burned my septum! That was great!

Dropping by from SITS, have a great day!

Kelly said...

"GOT TURKEY NECK??!!" Obviously a shit-for-brains idiot came up with that packaging idea.

I'm waiting to see a product packaging that screams out in huge bold letters: GOT LIMP DICK?!?!?

So far (knock wood) I don't have rogue facial hair but I do get one, count 'em, one nose hair that goes from zero to tusk in the blink of an eye and yanking that thing out HURTS.

Anonymous said...

So, you visit Costco daily then?!

I am 36 and heard a rumor once that eventually your metabolism slows down.

Who Me? Never Me.

So this Fall I decided to try to PUT ON SOME WEIGHT. I thought that perhaps I wouldn't catch the girls' colds if I had a few extra pounds.

I still got sick. I put on weight and have been trying like mad to lose the effing fat roll on my hips.

Apparently that rumor was true.

I curse myself each and every day because I can be stupid and vain like that.

I don't have time to look at my neck. My eyes don't leave my hips!

Lee said...'s taken me a bit to get over here, but you CRACK MY SHIT UP! I am following you back. Don't disappoint me!!

Yankee Girl said...

I cannot believe any person in marketing would think putting those words on anything is a good idea!

I wouldn't have bought it either...whether I need it or not!

Jen said...

I'm making a run to Costco. I need an extra set of tweezers anyway since I lost them down the drain trying to get all the hair out and now my chin hair needs to be trimmed. I hate aging. It seemed to happen over night. I don't have full on turkey neck yet, but I can see it coming. I even went to the "as seen on tv" store and bought the neck exerciser. I used it twice and forgot about it. I couldn't very well work out while watching tv, that would have been too embarrassing.

The Insatiable Host said...

Joann, I am so amazed at this post...I have laughed for about 30 mins...and True Story, it's my mommas bday today and I printed it out and gave it to her in her card. She trickled a little and loved it too!!

Anyhoo, in spite of your amazing blogging, personality and general je ne c'est quoi, I have given you an award on my blog.

Congrats and enjoy!


Candice said...

Found you on CCWA. Glad I did. I dig you.

My husband is also the tampon buyer in this house. I'm way above buying cotton for my crotch.

Unknown said...

Holy hell woman....that is hilarious stuff. I can not believe someone allowed MEN to market neck cream with the term "Turkey Neck"....someone should definitely have their balls cropped off for that one. I actually laughed so hard I almost pee'd.....Now that I've almost composed myself I'm headed to look at my neck. Hopefully I won't find a turkey neck.
Love your blog...found you via Insatiable Host. She's awesome!

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