Friday, February 11, 2005
dem bones
Kev made dinner...well, the main course, at least...AGAIN last night! Well, in fairness, he did buy the super huge bag of whole chicken legs that won't fit into the freezer. So it's been ALL CHICKEN ALL WEEK! Hooray! Earlier in the week he made a spicey chicken and rice dish. Last night he made oven fried chicken (I contributed with mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli with italian dressing).
I am not good at eating bone-in chicken. I rarely buy it that way. I prefer paying the outrageous prices for boneless. Kevin does not mind the bones. He will find some great sale and buy huge quantities of bone-in chicken...hence all the chicken this week. So far, we've used a total of 8 of those whole legs...and I think there's still more lurking in the fridge.
Keving doesn't mind bone-in chicken because he's good at eating it. Seriously, the man is a CHAMPION chicken eater. not a shred of flesh is left on those bones when he is finished. What is left on his plate resemble the remains strewn around the entrance to a cave in movies featuring horrible monsters that live in caves. OK, poor analogy.
I am terrible at eating chicken like this. I manage to get the majority of meat off and then I figure what's left isn't worth the trouble - it's fatty and full of cartilage. So Kev finishes his chicken, then wait patiently for me to finish.
"can I pick?"
"all yours"
This is a weird post, I know. But I'm eating leftover oven fried chicken and wishing Kev were here because there's still shreds of meat and tons of breading left on it that he would DIE if he saw me throwing away. Also, I wanted to bury the dream post, as the speculations on what it means are getting increasingly more bizzare. My point in posting it was that I don't have cute dreams involving having fun, or playing with puppies, or having great sex. I have frantic, panicked dreams, where something is always going on, and no one ever wants to help me.
public service announcement: the chicken is coated with crushed melba toast. melba toast is apparently not a big seller in the south, as many grocery store employees don't seem to know what it is. but if you're ever in a publix looking for it, it's in the chip isle.
// ranted by evilsciencechick @ 2/11/2005 01:18:00 PM
I am not good at eating bone-in chicken. I rarely buy it that way. I prefer paying the outrageous prices for boneless. Kevin does not mind the bones. He will find some great sale and buy huge quantities of bone-in chicken...hence all the chicken this week. So far, we've used a total of 8 of those whole legs...and I think there's still more lurking in the fridge.
Keving doesn't mind bone-in chicken because he's good at eating it. Seriously, the man is a CHAMPION chicken eater. not a shred of flesh is left on those bones when he is finished. What is left on his plate resemble the remains strewn around the entrance to a cave in movies featuring horrible monsters that live in caves. OK, poor analogy.
I am terrible at eating chicken like this. I manage to get the majority of meat off and then I figure what's left isn't worth the trouble - it's fatty and full of cartilage. So Kev finishes his chicken, then wait patiently for me to finish.
"can I pick?"
"all yours"
This is a weird post, I know. But I'm eating leftover oven fried chicken and wishing Kev were here because there's still shreds of meat and tons of breading left on it that he would DIE if he saw me throwing away. Also, I wanted to bury the dream post, as the speculations on what it means are getting increasingly more bizzare. My point in posting it was that I don't have cute dreams involving having fun, or playing with puppies, or having great sex. I have frantic, panicked dreams, where something is always going on, and no one ever wants to help me.
public service announcement: the chicken is coated with crushed melba toast. melba toast is apparently not a big seller in the south, as many grocery store employees don't seem to know what it is. but if you're ever in a publix looking for it, it's in the chip isle.
