The Wacky Quest for Fried Chicken
I had a couple of run-ins with high school girls today... And it led me to the most colorful trip for chicken in recent memory.
First, at 16:30, I picked up my cousin and his girlfriend from the country club pool. The girlfriend's about fourteen, and hot, and I'm not quite sure what she sees in my cousin, but whatever. Anyway, once I'd dropped my cousin off, I headed back to the office, and was flagged down by - you guessed it - a little high school cutie in jeans and a white tank top. I didn't recognize her, but a cute high school girl flagging you down is at least worth another run around the block. This is how the convo went...
If the hottie had been a little older, I might have considered it, but driving around with anonymous jailbait, particularly the kind who don't have mobile phones, is a bad, bad, bad idea for a twenty-three year old Super Fly.
At any rate, on the way home from school I saw another high school hottie walking on the sidewalk, wearing jean shorts and a green short-sleeved shirt. After I'd been home for the better part of an hour, there was a knock at my door. I minimized the Hot or Not window and went to answer the door, only to find... That's right, a high school hottie in jean shorts and a green short-sleeved shirt. It turns out that she's with the high school football team; she explained that she's not a player, she's one of the statistics girls. She explained that she and her partner, another hottie in a red shirt and jeans, were selling "Gold Cards", which can be redeemed at various restaurants and businesses for discounts on merchandise, food, and services. If the stats girls beat one of the seven football player selling teams, they got the pizza party while the losing team got to work. I relented and surrendered ten dollars.
On the card, one of the participating businesses was Kentucky Fried Chicken. Even though I had no intention of redeeming the card for the offered... Uh... Offer, I thought that fried chicken sounded like a good idea for dinner. Once the dinner rush was over, I got back into my chariot and set out on a mission for chicken.
Earlier I'd turned my radio to Air America, just because I'd never actually listened to it, save for a minute or two earlier this afternoon. As I was just about in sight of KFC, Janeane "I used to be on Saturday Night Live, but I squandered my talent and good looks and now I'm an ugly, shrill, talentless wench Garofalo came on the air. Less than a minute out of the gate, she'd railed against President Bush's latest "lie" about the Iraq War, she and her nobody co-host had gone off about the Pat Robertson debacle (guess what, Janeane, everybody thinks he's a jackass, it's a losing issue for you), and I was laughing at their asinine comments. They went on to rail against the "unscientific" issue of intelligent design, made a lot of half-truthful and outright ignorant, false claims about evolution and the nature of science, and the like.
Congratulations, Janeane, you and some no-name hack named Randi Rhodes have confirmed what I suspected: Democrats are a shrill, annoying party, completely devoid of ideas, petty, closed-minded, and completely lacking in class and substance.
I proceeded to eat half (by number, not by volume) the bucket of chicken upon arriving back at my home. My guess is that I'll either have foul-smelling gaseous emissions or an episode of something commonly known as "the runs" within the next forty-eight hours. Such is life.
Or, as the cheese-eating surrender monkeys would say, "C'est la vie."
UPDATE: My search for "cheese eating surrender monkeys" yielded the following entry on Urban Dictionary.com:
I guess there's no accounting for intelligence. Good grief, when is some intelligent liberal (I know, blood from a stone and all that) going to correct that asinine claim?
First, at 16:30, I picked up my cousin and his girlfriend from the country club pool. The girlfriend's about fourteen, and hot, and I'm not quite sure what she sees in my cousin, but whatever. Anyway, once I'd dropped my cousin off, I headed back to the office, and was flagged down by - you guessed it - a little high school cutie in jeans and a white tank top. I didn't recognize her, but a cute high school girl flagging you down is at least worth another run around the block. This is how the convo went...
High School Hottie: Can you give us a ride?
The Fly: Nah, sorry. I'm on the clock.
Hottie's Snarky Friend: Well, do you have fifty cents so we can make a phone call?
The Fly: Sorry, I don't.
Hottie's Snarky Friend: Then why did you even pull around?
High School Hottie: Well, we love you anyway!
The Fly: Okay, thanks.
High School Hottie: Thank you!
* The Fly drives back to work
If the hottie had been a little older, I might have considered it, but driving around with anonymous jailbait, particularly the kind who don't have mobile phones, is a bad, bad, bad idea for a twenty-three year old Super Fly.
At any rate, on the way home from school I saw another high school hottie walking on the sidewalk, wearing jean shorts and a green short-sleeved shirt. After I'd been home for the better part of an hour, there was a knock at my door. I minimized the Hot or Not window and went to answer the door, only to find... That's right, a high school hottie in jean shorts and a green short-sleeved shirt. It turns out that she's with the high school football team; she explained that she's not a player, she's one of the statistics girls. She explained that she and her partner, another hottie in a red shirt and jeans, were selling "Gold Cards", which can be redeemed at various restaurants and businesses for discounts on merchandise, food, and services. If the stats girls beat one of the seven football player selling teams, they got the pizza party while the losing team got to work. I relented and surrendered ten dollars.
On the card, one of the participating businesses was Kentucky Fried Chicken. Even though I had no intention of redeeming the card for the offered... Uh... Offer, I thought that fried chicken sounded like a good idea for dinner. Once the dinner rush was over, I got back into my chariot and set out on a mission for chicken.
Earlier I'd turned my radio to Air America, just because I'd never actually listened to it, save for a minute or two earlier this afternoon. As I was just about in sight of KFC, Janeane "I used to be on Saturday Night Live, but I squandered my talent and good looks and now I'm an ugly, shrill, talentless wench Garofalo came on the air. Less than a minute out of the gate, she'd railed against President Bush's latest "lie" about the Iraq War, she and her nobody co-host had gone off about the Pat Robertson debacle (guess what, Janeane, everybody thinks he's a jackass, it's a losing issue for you), and I was laughing at their asinine comments. They went on to rail against the "unscientific" issue of intelligent design, made a lot of half-truthful and outright ignorant, false claims about evolution and the nature of science, and the like.
Congratulations, Janeane, you and some no-name hack named Randi Rhodes have confirmed what I suspected: Democrats are a shrill, annoying party, completely devoid of ideas, petty, closed-minded, and completely lacking in class and substance.
I proceeded to eat half (by number, not by volume) the bucket of chicken upon arriving back at my home. My guess is that I'll either have foul-smelling gaseous emissions or an episode of something commonly known as "the runs" within the next forty-eight hours. Such is life.
Or, as the cheese-eating surrender monkeys would say, "C'est la vie."
UPDATE: My search for "cheese eating surrender monkeys" yielded the following entry on Urban Dictionary.com:
A phrase popularized by Bart Simpson and used by many moronic Bush supporters to describe the French, who turned out to be right about Iraq all along.
Those Cheese Eating Surrender Monkeys won't help me invade another country and kill another 100,000 innocent civilians. I'll show them!
I guess there's no accounting for intelligence. Good grief, when is some intelligent liberal (I know, blood from a stone and all that) going to correct that asinine claim?
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