Meat and I are not friends. I've scoured the research available to me, trying to find some evidence that I can still be healthy and avoid eating dead things. But you can't really. You can get close...but you can't be all the way healthy and not eat dead animals. So I took myself down to whole foods, which I hardly ever do on account of it's ridiculously expensive, and I bought milk in bottle that had the cream sitting on top. Cool. And I bought a whole chicken. The fresh kind that they wrap up for you, not the frozen kind.
Here's how it happened. I approached the counter and asked the man for a chicken, and he reached in and grabbed one by the leg. I unfortunately started giggling, because the chicken did this floppy, jiggly thing that I can't really explain, but I thought it was funny. So he wrapped it up in paper and handed it to me. This made me giggle more because my chicken just felt so personable, jiggling there in my hands.
So today, when I came home from church, (be proud, Mother.), I decided to cook my chicken. When I unwrapped him, his personality jumped out at me. And it said, "My name is Freud!" And I agreed. Don't get me wrong, I'm not fond of Freud at all...in fact the sooner Freud is bone soup the better, then I don't have to look at his little jiggly self. I googled baked chicken recipes online, and after discovering it would take an hour and a half to two hours to cook Freud, I realized I did not have that much time.
This put in somewhat of a predicament, as I had already dumped him off his paper and onto his cooking dish. So I fished out the paper, and found myself in another predicament. No way in hell was I about to pick him up of that dish. Gross. So I took the dish and dumped him back onto his paper. And he lay there on his back, his legs stretched out, and jiggled amicably. Rolling back up took some doing, he kept trying to slip away from me. Finally I got him mostly covered and back into the fridge. And we'll try this again later.
