I wasn't able to throw my support
for Chic-Fil-A into the ring today.
I wanted to, believe me.
But,
weighing my options and pro's and con's,
I opted out.
(The family freak flag is flying high these days)
However, I did insist that K-Man go for lunch...
and he so reluctantly went.
He knows how to take one for the team,
I tell ya.
But in honor of Chic-Fil-A
and FREE SPEECH,
I fried my own chicken tonight.
Girls, yes I did.
And because our electric bill was $446 last month,
DESPITE our concerted efforts to crank
up the AC and turn off lights,
I opted to fry my chicken out in my glamorous
garage kitchen,
so not to heat up the house.
I had sweat dripping off my everythings.
Yes I did.
And I recruited Lucy to take pics.
(Of the chicken frying...not the above dripping.)
To which she said, "How many do I have to take??"
To which I said,
"Twenty, now stop complaining."
Sorry for the nose-shot.
But look at those glorious chicken strips
fryin' away.
Forget cholesterol.
Forget deep-fat fears.
Forget New-Age nutritional hooey.
I've got southern roots, man.
I gotta do it.
I just do.
And I have left-overs.
HAPPY DAY!!!
Here's to YOU,
Chic-Fil-A!
And Chic-Fil-Lori.
3 comments:
Now I'm seriously coveting your garage kitchen. And your chicken is lovely, too.
How in the heck did you manage leftovers???
A garage kitchen? How did you manage that? Do tell.
Yeah, I want to hear about the garage kitchen too. And, the leftovers, for that matter.
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