Need to get away from the family for a second?
Turkey in the oven and have nothing to do now(ha!)?
Need to look busy without actually being busy?
Read 7 random things about me. A good friend, follower blogger, and goddess like myself, sent me the following chain letter/blog thing.
Let's Go:
1) The day before my 21st birthday I was riding my bike and a Mazda Miata hit me. The old lady driving the car turned right into me. She was coming off a stop sign. I fell in the middle of the interscetion and the car behind the Mazda just drove around me as if that was totally normal. I walked my bike home and still went to work that night. I was a waitress. I made twice as many tips that night because I played up the sympathy card big time- truthfully, I was fine- it was a MIATA!
2) I am TERRIFIED of whales- real ones, pictures, calendars, cartoons- does not matter. I'm nearly 100% sure this stems from an early childhood viewing of Pinocchio.
3) When I went on that cross country trip my sister, our friend and I stayed in a hostel on a vortex in Arizona that was owned/run by a guy named Lavern and his girlfriend, Frenchie. Lavern played the ukulele.
4) The Great Barrier Reef is overrated as a snorkeling spot.
5) I have zero desire to sky dive or bungee jump. I also have never dreamt about flying, but I do frequently fall in dreams. Is this a bad sign?
6) I love cooking and I am fairly decent, but cannot make chocolate chip cookies from scratch to save my life. I have tried several times with several variations and they all suck.
7) Tina, Aarti, Jenn and I have been friends since high school. We all turn 30 on our next birthdays. We have a girls trip planned to celebrate, but Tina posed another challenge to us. First, it should be noted that going to a NKOTB concert was her idea, a pure genius idea. Anyway, she suggested in October 2010 we all run the Baltimore marathon as a relay team. While I do go to the gym on the regular, I am no runner. However, after a lot of excuses and self-doubt, I have agreed to her latest idea. NKOTB was sheer amazingness, how bad can this run be? right?
I'm both terrified and excited. Currently, I can run/walk 4 miles in 55 minutes on the treadmill. If I become some crazy runner, wearing only spandex jumpsuits and talking about stretching out my quads and carbo loading, you have my permission to slap me.
Awesome bloggers I just LURVE
1. Lynsey at http://miloeliot.blogspot.com/
2. Nancy at http://www.npoj.blogspot.com/
3. Alison at http://alisonandnate.blogspot.com/
I'm suppose to put links to other blogs I follow here, but I don't follow a lot, sadly. Instead, I willl link you to sites I like. It counts right?
4. http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/
5. http://babyrazzi.com/
6. http://cuteoverload.com/
7. http://tomatonation.com/
Please take the time and check out these talented and funny writers.
If you are interested in doing this yourself here are the "rule":
1. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.
3. Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
4. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Innards
I have a long feud going with the innards of chickens.
I go to the store, pick out a chicken and come home and place it in my freezer. This is a typical, normal rather predictable pattern of events. However, what occurs mere days later in my kitchen in nothing short of a MMA fight- me vs. frozen chicken innards.
I have taken a frozen chicken and placed it in my sink at 7a.m. and come back at 5p.m. to a thawed chicken and still frozen solid sack of innards.
I have run hot water in the chicken-- innards, still frozen.
Every time I try to prepare a chicken for the oven I end up giving it some sort of twisted gynecological exam. I have ripped and pulled at the bag of gross, only to end up with a hand full of innards. Sensory memory still gives me the pleasure of remembering what a raw, cold, chicken liver feels like in my hand. The words that come from my mouth, as I performing this vile act are unfit to be heard by another human being.
Sadly, P is usually within earshot. Thankfully, he is usually watching Yo Gabba Gabba or chasing Abby around the house.
Because of this, and for a few other reasons, we are not having turkey at our thanksgiving. Instead the Phillips fam will be noshing on; ham, mac and cheese, collard greens and oyster stuffing. Have I mentioned that Josh's family is from Tennessee?
Since we are not having turkey on Thanksgiving we decided having chicken on Sunday would not be too redundant. Josh took on the chicken tackling and cooking efforts. Here is the conversation we had as he prepared the bird. It should be noted that in our house, if someone is in the kitchen and the other person is in the living room, the two people cannot see each other, but can easily carry on a conversation.
I was in the living room. Josh was in the kitchen.
Josh "What is this, the neck?"
Me: "Yea...there's more too. Haven't you ever done this?"
J: Uh-huh, but ...really is this the neck?
M: That's not all that's in there. Keep digging.
J: Do I take it now or after
M: After what
J: After it cooks
M: ---
J: Oh opps, I was at the wrong end.
After my silent giggling from the couch subsided I asked for clarification. It seems Josh was aware that innards were in the chicken, just not clear on exactly how many innards. He was also trying to pull them all out of the top of the chicken, not the butt portion.
Oh sweet Lord.
After bit I went into the kitchen to actually see what is going on. By this time he had removed the innards and he was seasoning the chicken.
On it's back.
When I pointed this out he said, "Oh, I thought that was the breast part..."
So many things are wrong here.
In the end we were making beer butt chicken, so the seasoning issue was a non-issue since all areas of the chicken were exposed.
Josh took his violated, seasoned dead, raw chicken to the grill. Then he ran out of propane.
I cannot make this stuff up.
Happy Thanksgiving!
I go to the store, pick out a chicken and come home and place it in my freezer. This is a typical, normal rather predictable pattern of events. However, what occurs mere days later in my kitchen in nothing short of a MMA fight- me vs. frozen chicken innards.
I have taken a frozen chicken and placed it in my sink at 7a.m. and come back at 5p.m. to a thawed chicken and still frozen solid sack of innards.
I have run hot water in the chicken-- innards, still frozen.
Every time I try to prepare a chicken for the oven I end up giving it some sort of twisted gynecological exam. I have ripped and pulled at the bag of gross, only to end up with a hand full of innards. Sensory memory still gives me the pleasure of remembering what a raw, cold, chicken liver feels like in my hand
Sadly, P is usually within earshot. Thankfully, he is usually watching Yo Gabba Gabba or chasing Abby around the house.
Because of this, and for a few other reasons, we are not having turkey at our thanksgiving. Instead the Phillips fam will be noshing on; ham, mac and cheese, collard greens and oyster stuffing. Have I mentioned that Josh's family is from Tennessee?
Since we are not having turkey on Thanksgiving we decided having chicken on Sunday would not be too redundant. Josh took on the chicken tackling and cooking efforts. Here is the conversation we had as he prepared the bird. It should be noted that in our house, if someone is in the kitchen and the other person is in the living room, the two people cannot see each other, but can easily carry on a conversation.
I was in the living room. Josh was in the kitchen.
Josh "What is this, the neck?"
Me: "Yea...there's more too. Haven't you ever done this?"
J: Uh-huh, but ...really is this the neck?
M: That's not all that's in there. Keep digging.
J: Do I take it now or after
M: After what
J: After it cooks
M: ---
J: Oh opps, I was at the wrong end.
After my silent giggling from the couch subsided I asked for clarification. It seems Josh was aware that innards were in the chicken, just not clear on exactly how many innards. He was also trying to pull them all out of the top of the chicken, not the butt portion.
Oh sweet Lord.
After bit I went into the kitchen to actually see what is going on. By this time he had removed the innards and he was seasoning the chicken.
On it's back.
When I pointed this out he said, "Oh, I thought that was the breast part..."
So many things are wrong here.
In the end we were making beer butt chicken, so the seasoning issue was a non-issue since all areas of the chicken were exposed.
Josh took his violated, seasoned dead, raw chicken to the grill. Then he ran out of propane.
I cannot make this stuff up.
Happy Thanksgiving!
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