Paula invited us into her world; we met her physically fit sons (who obviously don't touch their mom's cooking), her daughters-in-law, her Hells Angels meets Santa Claus husband (who is the poster child for what happens to the human body when you do eat Paula's food), and her dog, Sambo. Yes, Sambo. Who knows, maybe Paula is a practitioner of the martial art of that name, rather than an old Southern belle from Georgia hanging on to things like the Confederate flag and historically racist books.

Paula made something called "Oyster dressing" which is apparently a southern staple. So, for all of my friends here in Connecticut that insist I am from the South (Philly area), I have never even heard of oyster dressing, let alone eaten it. So there. I was born and raised north of the Mason-Dixon Line, thankyouverymuch. Though, I can recommend some good places to chow on some scrapple, if you're into that sort of thing. So the oyster dressing looked delish and Paula was on her way.

On her way to the slaughterhouse, that is. Before I knew what hit me, Paula was standing before a giant pile of meat; About 30 lbs worth of poultry. She was preparing a very special dish called "turducken." A turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a chicken all stuffed with stuffing. Hmmm, intriguing. Why she left out the Cornish hen stuffed with a quail stuffed with a hummingbird is beyond me - the turduckenhenailbird, of course. Paula giggled through some of her typical innuendo ("Don't forget to rub your meat *wink*" and "Splay your legs, ooooh!") and called in her husband. I guess all that sex talk got him to the kitchen. Though, looking at Michael, it's the food talk that gets him out of his chair more these days.

She and Michael wrapped up the HUGE turducken mess and shared a kiss. Yes, that's what I like. A stolen kiss over a giant pile of raw meat. Yum yum. As if that weren't disgusting enough, she then proceeded to merely rinse her hands in water. Nah, no soap for Paula, just good ol' Savannah water to wash off her salmonella and avian flu.

[Sidenote: I was listening to ESPN radio the other night and heard Coach Mike Ditka say that he'd be enjoying some "Turduckauge" on the big day - turkey, duck, and sausage. And we all remember those George Wendt/Chris Farley SNL skits, now don't we.]

Paula proclaimed her meal so far as "SlapKaDap-Perfect" and licked her diseased fingers. Not content with giving herself some heretofore unknown turducken-borne illness, she then joined her two sons out with the deep fried turkey and promoted her heart disease as well. How does one finish off a deep fried bird? By literally pouring what was at least a half cup of melted butter into the cavity of the bird. And you know dear Paula licked that butter pot afterwards too.