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December 16, 2003

Chicken Coup

I'm desperately trying to get rid of the last bit of Kentucky Fried Chicken that's been stashed in our refrigerator since last Thursday night. Personally, I don't touch the stuff, since I'm a bit uncomfortable with the image of greasy, fireballs of chicken traveling down my stomach lining... Talk about an ulcer waiting to happen. I don't care how often Jason Alexander prompts me to run out and buy a sixteen piece bucket of extra crispy chicken, I just can't do it. Dad still runs out and buys a fresh bouquet of the Colonel's famous poultry bi-product every so often, and the rest of the family (except for Mom) is more that ready to eat up what they say is seasoned with eleven herbs and spices. After my mess with last Thursday's dinner, he brought some home, and it's been sitting on the top shelf of our Frigidaire ever since. I'm feeding it to the dog right now, who is happy to see that our leftover chicken breasts have been put to good use.

Oh God... Have you ever gone to a large picnic or even a potluck dinner, and seen someone carry a big bucket of KFC to the table as their contribution? That stuff cracks me up. It always seems as though everyone else has the time to put some pride and effort into cooking some kind of family-favorite dish, and then your hairy Uncle Charlie from Kalamazoo shows up with a grease-stained bucket of KFC for everyone to share. Of course, there's only about fifteen pieces left in the bucket, since good old Uncle Charlie managed to eat (the only) five drumsticks on the way to the park, forcing you to fanangle your way around lopsided chicken breasts and thighs... But everyone forgives him since he's been going through a messy divorce, anyway (That Caroline girl he married never did make it through all those AA meetings). What's a little fried chicken when you've got family to worry about?

One time, Marc's basketball team had a potluck dinner at the gym, and some family bought a huge stack of Papa John's pizzas. I guess that's cool (it's better than KFC, anyway)... But it was just weird to see this woman beam as she stacked her pizza boxes along side some elderly woman's homemade potato salad. Of course, all the basketball players aimed for the pizza, and the potato salad was only eaten by a few people who claimed to have had terrible heart burn. It all worked out in the end.

Uhhhh... I was supposed to drive to Target today and let them know I'm quitting (Yeah, that's right. I've finally decided to leave the joint), but after going to making a deposit at the bank and then pulling up in the Target parking lot, I chickened out and drove myself home. I told myself that I'd come back later tonight, at a better time, but I know full well that any later than three or four o'clock is definitely not a good time during the Christmas season. What the heck am I so afraid of...? I guess I'm scared that they might try to convince me to stay, and then I'd get all blubbery and make up some reason for not quitting, which would totally defeat the purpose.

I'm also being incredibly lame when it comes to Noga, who has been calling me non-stop on my home phone and my cell. I just let both of them ring, because I don't have the patience to sit on my end and make up a fake conversation with her. I'm really about this close to getting up and saying something about our little withered friendship, but hey, I'm far too passive-aggressive for that. It's just not in my nature.

I really need to get some backbone.

Today's Soundtrack: "Why Georgia," John Mayer

Best Part of the Day: My nose has stopped running!

posted at 12:54 p.m.

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