Why is there a deer hanging in my garage

Hellllllllllllo friends! Its been a while. I missed you, I really did. I hope you all had lovely holidays. I learned this week that it's not PC to say 'I hope you had a good Thanksgiving', and instead you are supposed to say 'If you chose to celebrate it, I hope your Thanksgiving was nice'. Apparently Angelina Jolie is boycotting Thanksgiving because it is a holiday that celebrates the decimation of Native Americans and it is impolite to assume that everyone celebrates it. She doesn't. And I say this to her: You cant boycott a holiday that centers around eating. You just cant. Also, I took a Native American philosophies class in college and my professor was Seminole and never once said anything about Thanksgiving offending him, so I will continue to celebrate it and apologize to Native Americans for destroying their culture and taking their land the other 364 days of the year. Because I really love eating and don't want to give that day up. Sorry.

Alright so 2 weekends ago my husband went deer hunting. He ended up shooting a pretty big doe. And unlike last year, it wasn't stolen out of the back of the truck while he was in the casino, so I was lucky enough to come home to a dead animal lying on the floor of my garage. Normally he would let his dad take it back and have a butcher take care of it for us and we would get brats and jerky and crap. But because my husband is awesome, and because he knows I'm a freak and really think shit is going to go down in the next few years and there will be some kind of crazy ass Armageddon Marshall law type shit happening, he brought it home so we could learn how to butcher it ourselves. Your significant other buys you flowers. Mine knows I'm insane and brings me dead animals so that when the world is ending, we will be eating fresh stew while you fight over the last can of creamed corn in your cupboard. Booyah.

This is what a dead deer looks like:

After helping my husband hang this creature from our garage rafters, I was able to get a better look at it. I haven't ever seen a deer up close before, and I had no idea they were so huge. Like, if you've ever seen that YouTube video of the dude being attacked by a buck, I seriously have no idea how he didn't die. Deers are fucking monsters. **Side Note**I'm aware you don't need to pluralize the word deer. But I like to for some reason.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wnJSwBkcJ4Q

I decided to take a gander at this animal for a while, and I then proceeded to get kind of attached. Because she was in his trunk the entire ride back, she hadn't gone all hard yet, and so when you touched her, she was still soft, which was weird and made me kind of sad. So I named her Christina. And I pet her and poked her eyeball to see what it felt like and told her I was sorry she got shot.

To make a long story less long, we did our best at butchering Christina and I found myself alternating between disgust and genuine interest at learning how to prepare food that I could actually eat. Then my ADHD kicked in and after 25 minutes I was bored and annoyed to be hanging out in a freezing ass garage surrounded by blood and bones and stinky ass meat. Deer meat fucking stinks. Like, I'm fairly certain deers eat baby diapers on a regular basis.
Which doesn't make sense to me because Ive eaten free range chicken and cow and buffalo and their meat doesn't smell like an asshole and they are eating stuff out in the wild, so I really don't know what the hell deer are doing differently. Anyways, this deer butchering process took waaaay longer than I expected and stretched out over 2 days culminating in my husband bringing in bags of hunks of Christina over a 3 hours period into our kitchen to be washed and cut down and bagged and labeled all while I have 75 panic attacks at the fact that there is deer blood and bones and hair all over my counter and sink. I think I used an entire bottle of Lysol 4 in 1, and annoyed the shit out of my husband by insisting on spraying the counter and wiping the gore away every 7 minutes.

In conclusion. We learned how to butcher a deer, which is actually a pretty good skill to have. And I again confirmed that I really am the laziest pile of crap ever.

Have a lovely Tuesday. See you bastards on Friday again.