It is around this time of year, long before most of you were born. I’m at my sister’s apartment, and down the hall we hear quite a commotion. We rush to her friend’s door, and holler “Are you okay?” We are answered with a laughing “Ye-e-ess”, and then a giggled “Come in. I might need help.”

Inside, in all of her glory, is my sister’s friend. Flat on her back, unable to move. Why? The christmas tree has fallen on her. And she is shaking with laughter.

It’s so burned into my memory it could be a cartoon.

This is the same woman who objected to the roast her mother was thawing because she saw the blood. Her mother indignantly said: “That’s not blood. That’s MEAT JUICE.”If that weren’t enough, meat juice girl grew up to work in a supermarket. You guessed it. The meat department. There was a big spill of blood, and it made the floor slippery and hazardous. Another employee warned her to avoid the pool of blood.

What did she say?

Why yes, she said “That’s not blood. It’s meat juice!”

She was 20 years old at the time, and still blushes when she recounts the incident in the meat department.

I hope you are like me and remember a laughing friend every time you thaw a roast.

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Meat Juice it’s the new red