Dateline: Thanksgiving 1994(ish). Twelve-year-old Chris, in his holiday best, is betasked to peel the potatoes. Not wanting to miss the parade, I sneak the trashcan into the living room, and get with the de-eying. Meanwhile, the sous chefs continue to toss out the unusables into that spot where, you know, the rubbage bin is "supposed" to be.
Really, this thing is dope.