Bon Soir, World.
That's French you know. In case you haven't heard, I'm France now and I have a vision board to prove it.
That's besides the point though. What I really wanted to tell you is that S, my little chick who started the blog, gave me the link and I went and I laughed a lot.
If you want to find out about "Why Can't I Own a Canadian", you should go visit her at I know you wish your life was more like mine. Or you could ask Google and prove her point all over again.
Tell S that Chicken sent you. She'll owe me one. Maybe she'll do laundry. I get giddy just thinking about it.
You don't have to go, of course you don't.
But her blog made me snort hot tea out my nose. Again.
Just sayin'
You could also take that as a warning, I suppose.
In other news, I've managed to catch a few of those cold cooties my boys have been so generous about sharing and seem to be coming down with a really nice head cold. Or something. I'm going to need to borrow some of Scrappy's Nyquil. If she has any left, that is.
Has anyone been to the Cove yet? Tell me, is it as nice as they say? I've got to get my membership straightened out.
See you later alligator.
BTW, you know you can't really own a Canadian, right? They are not like hamsters, people, even if they are cute and fuzzy.
Chicken out
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
And We Are Still Doing Random...
Good morning, World:
Just three things:
Chicken is jonesing. I miss my blackberry. I want it back. I miss that cute little roller ball that was so handy for tooling through lists and text. I miss the little keyboard. I miss that when I backspaced to correct something I didn't erase the entire f*#king text about 10 times in a row. I miss that when I didn't look at it for 10 seconds, the blackberry screen didn't lock up and need to be unlocked before I could use it.
What if time was of the essence, Sidekick, huh? What about if it was an emergency????
"Excuse me raper, serial muderer, robber person, could you hold that thought? I just need to UNLOCK MY F*CKING PHONE and call 911."
Thing number 2. R and I saw the movie, Kick Ass, yesterday. I'm 46 years old. Kick Ass was not on my short list, although it was on Teenager Who Lives in the Basement's list. It is probably on most 14-year-old boys' lists. But guess what? Even though it is a movie infinitely appealing to teenage boys, they can't get in to see it because it's rated R. I don't get that. But I digress. R and I saw this movie not knowing much about it because it was the only one showing in the short time frame we had that we had heard of. Let me start by saying this movie is so outrageously wrong in so many ways, beginning with an 11-year-old serial killer. That said, OMG, you guys, it was so funny. I know I shouldn't have laughed at an 11-year-old in a purple wig taking out 20 organized crime guys with an unending arsenal of guns, grenades, knives and cool moves. But I couldn't help it. And if you like Nicholas Cage, which I do, you'll love him in this.
Finally, one of my little Chicks has started her own blog and she's having a lot of fun with it. She's been telling me about some of the things she writes about. S (this is the S of the pennies in the mouth story) shares my love of writing and my cynicism, but in addition to that, she has no problem pissing people off. It sounds funny. I really want to read S's blog. I don't think she wants me to read it. She doesn't exactly say no. When I ask for the link, she sort of changes the subject or pretends she didn't hear me. Ummmm. I'm torn. I'm a pretty good little researcher. I know some of her subject matter and what groups she's joined. I'm pretty sure I could find it. What should I do world? Beg? What would you do?
Have a very fine Monday, World
Chicken out
Just three things:
Chicken is jonesing. I miss my blackberry. I want it back. I miss that cute little roller ball that was so handy for tooling through lists and text. I miss the little keyboard. I miss that when I backspaced to correct something I didn't erase the entire f*#king text about 10 times in a row. I miss that when I didn't look at it for 10 seconds, the blackberry screen didn't lock up and need to be unlocked before I could use it.
What if time was of the essence, Sidekick, huh? What about if it was an emergency????
"Excuse me raper, serial muderer, robber person, could you hold that thought? I just need to UNLOCK MY F*CKING PHONE and call 911."
Thing number 2. R and I saw the movie, Kick Ass, yesterday. I'm 46 years old. Kick Ass was not on my short list, although it was on Teenager Who Lives in the Basement's list. It is probably on most 14-year-old boys' lists. But guess what? Even though it is a movie infinitely appealing to teenage boys, they can't get in to see it because it's rated R. I don't get that. But I digress. R and I saw this movie not knowing much about it because it was the only one showing in the short time frame we had that we had heard of. Let me start by saying this movie is so outrageously wrong in so many ways, beginning with an 11-year-old serial killer. That said, OMG, you guys, it was so funny. I know I shouldn't have laughed at an 11-year-old in a purple wig taking out 20 organized crime guys with an unending arsenal of guns, grenades, knives and cool moves. But I couldn't help it. And if you like Nicholas Cage, which I do, you'll love him in this.
Finally, one of my little Chicks has started her own blog and she's having a lot of fun with it. She's been telling me about some of the things she writes about. S (this is the S of the pennies in the mouth story) shares my love of writing and my cynicism, but in addition to that, she has no problem pissing people off. It sounds funny. I really want to read S's blog. I don't think she wants me to read it. She doesn't exactly say no. When I ask for the link, she sort of changes the subject or pretends she didn't hear me. Ummmm. I'm torn. I'm a pretty good little researcher. I know some of her subject matter and what groups she's joined. I'm pretty sure I could find it. What should I do world? Beg? What would you do?
Have a very fine Monday, World
Chicken out
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Chicken Idling...
Hi World,
I have nothing of great importance to share with you. Surprise.
Here's a couple of random thoughts if you are bored and feel like reading. And you must be bored or why come would you be on a blog about Chickens, hmmm? If you have anything to do though, you should go do it. This post is totally not worth your precious time.
In this day and age, does it seem weird that there is no Miss America equivalent for men? I think there are enough single guys out there looking for college scholarships and fame that finding contestants would not be a problem. You could run it exactly like Miss America with all the same categories.
The reality show about them getting ready to compete is what I really want to see, though. Are you listening Lucky Punk? I'm gifting you. If you use the idea can I get a front row seat for the back waxing?
Know what else? There is no masculine equivalent for Miss. "Miss" is the appropriate honorific... (I had to look up that word. I didn't just know that. NOBODY freaking knows that. Okay, some geek probably does. Where was I?) Sorry. As I was saying, Miss is the appropriate honorific for an unmarried lady. So you are Miss from the time you are a young girl until you get married, although you could also correctly use Ms. if you so choose. For a male, however, the honorific has nothing to do with your marital status. When you are young you are called "Master" (bator hee hee). But then in your teen years you go right into Mr.
That bugs me. It also leaves us without an appropriate name for the pageant. Unless we call it MASTERbator America. But that doesn't really flow and if the Donald is going to bankroll it he's going to want it to flow.
Speaking of Donald....never mind. But you know he thinks that song is about him, right?
Joann, when I was leaving my Blackberry AA meeting tonight at Radio Shack, I passed these two guys with pocket protectors who were acting kind of suspicious and all, and I thought I heard your name mentioned, so I followed them. (cue Pink Panther theme song). You are right. They are fucking with you. But guess why? They think you are hot. Yup. The internet geeks have a crush on the Mannix, and because they have the combined social skills of an 11-year-old they are getting your attention the only way they know how.
Really, it's Bono I feel bad for. You should see what they are doing to his fan page. Not good. Not good at all.
I heard about this new hot club called The Cove but I can't get in. Even though I totally know the owner.
Have you ever noticed that people who have English accents seem much smarter than Americans. You could meet up with the dumbest English guy in the world and he would be all, "Cheerio old chap, two plus two equals ten, right then, fancy a pint?" and you would agree with him because he sounds smart. Dinners, you should totally move to America. Think of all the fun you could have and everyone would be hanging on your every word.
So here we are at the end. I hope you don't feel sorry you read the whole thing. I tried to warn you.
Old Chap. Fancy a pint?
Chicken out
I have nothing of great importance to share with you. Surprise.
Here's a couple of random thoughts if you are bored and feel like reading. And you must be bored or why come would you be on a blog about Chickens, hmmm? If you have anything to do though, you should go do it. This post is totally not worth your precious time.
In this day and age, does it seem weird that there is no Miss America equivalent for men? I think there are enough single guys out there looking for college scholarships and fame that finding contestants would not be a problem. You could run it exactly like Miss America with all the same categories.
The reality show about them getting ready to compete is what I really want to see, though. Are you listening Lucky Punk? I'm gifting you. If you use the idea can I get a front row seat for the back waxing?
Know what else? There is no masculine equivalent for Miss. "Miss" is the appropriate honorific... (I had to look up that word. I didn't just know that. NOBODY freaking knows that. Okay, some geek probably does. Where was I?) Sorry. As I was saying, Miss is the appropriate honorific for an unmarried lady. So you are Miss from the time you are a young girl until you get married, although you could also correctly use Ms. if you so choose. For a male, however, the honorific has nothing to do with your marital status. When you are young you are called "Master" (bator hee hee). But then in your teen years you go right into Mr.
That bugs me. It also leaves us without an appropriate name for the pageant. Unless we call it MASTERbator America. But that doesn't really flow and if the Donald is going to bankroll it he's going to want it to flow.
Speaking of Donald....never mind. But you know he thinks that song is about him, right?
Joann, when I was leaving my Blackberry AA meeting tonight at Radio Shack, I passed these two guys with pocket protectors who were acting kind of suspicious and all, and I thought I heard your name mentioned, so I followed them. (cue Pink Panther theme song). You are right. They are fucking with you. But guess why? They think you are hot. Yup. The internet geeks have a crush on the Mannix, and because they have the combined social skills of an 11-year-old they are getting your attention the only way they know how.
Really, it's Bono I feel bad for. You should see what they are doing to his fan page. Not good. Not good at all.
I heard about this new hot club called The Cove but I can't get in. Even though I totally know the owner.
Have you ever noticed that people who have English accents seem much smarter than Americans. You could meet up with the dumbest English guy in the world and he would be all, "Cheerio old chap, two plus two equals ten, right then, fancy a pint?" and you would agree with him because he sounds smart. Dinners, you should totally move to America. Think of all the fun you could have and everyone would be hanging on your every word.
So here we are at the end. I hope you don't feel sorry you read the whole thing. I tried to warn you.
Old Chap. Fancy a pint?
Chicken out
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