Maybe I'm overly sensitive about the subject because I'm well, you know, Black. It's not a stereotype if it's true. We eat fried chicken. And we eat it a lot.
So, last night, I'm starving. I think I've been going through a bit of depression, and have been sleeping a lot, and not eating as much as I normally do. A bit of that is due to depression (no it's NOT J.R. J.R. who?), but the majority of that is because I am so picky that I would rather not eat than eat something I don't like. Yeah, stupid I know. I have gone 2 days without eating because I couldn't find anything that I wanted to eat. I went grocery shopping the other day, so that I could prepare my own meals.. My mother makes super every night for my father, and I never eat. I don't know what the hell that had to do with anything, I'm just typing at this point. I really need to have some sort of an outline when I'm doing this whole blogging thing.
So like I was saying before I started saying the nonsense in the previous paragraph, I was absolutely FAMISHED last night. I was so hungry I could boiled pig endometrium . So I thought.
I was at work last night, and my boss(who is so freaking cool, it's ridiculous) asked what I'd eaten for lunch. I told him I went home, and had a little carne (meat), and that was all. He wanted food, and I wanted some more food, so we decided that we would get something to eat. He suggested "Greasy Chicken". I agreed. He eats this stuff like every day, and I've seen it. It looks DELICIOUS!
Since hindsight is 20/20, looking back, it's my damned fault. You don't trust people who aren't Black about fried chicken. But then again, HOW DO YOU FUCK UP FRIED MUTHAFUCKIN' CHICKEN?!!!!
We had a ton of work last night, so he wasn't able to get the chicken until much later that evening.
Oh how my mouth watered in anticipation of the deep fried yard bird. I could barely focus or concentrate thinking about it.
And when he brought it back? Lawd Jesus! I saw the massive grease stains that penetrated the brown papered bag, and the smell emanating from it, and thought that I had died and gone to Heaven.
Only later to learn that I had been sodomized, brutally murdered, and ended up in Satan's Laundromat.
I asked how much did I owe him, and he said the five most beautiful word in the English language, "Don't worry about it, it's paid for". I'm wondering how this can get any better I'm damned near ready to speak in tongues now. *cue fast organ, tambourine, and bass guitar music*
I sat down at my desk, and asked where the hot sauce was. 'Cause who the hell can eat fried chicken without hot sauce?
He told me he had some. Great. So I'm waiting for this:
But-- got this:Okay, I mean, it ain't Louisiana, but, Tapatio is okay, I guess? Get yourself a cup-o-noodles, put some lime juice and Tapatio in that bitch, and tell me that shit ain't the BUSINESS. Shout out to all my Mexican homies that taught me that shit.
So, I begin to eat my french fries. And they were on point. I was shoving like six or seven in my mouth at once. Nah, wasn't the hunger, I'm just a damn pig. Call me 5-0.
Then I go to have a bite of chicken. I see that there are feathers still attached to that bitch! Uh? Okay, I just pluck them sumbitches out. Ain't no big thing.
But then I have a bite of that "chicken".
I don't know what the ethnicity of the people who prepared this, this, "chicken", but I do know good and damned well that they weren't of the African Diaspora. Well maybe they were since that shit tasted like deep fried fruit bat afterbirth.
That was the most disgusting thing I've ever put into my mouth--ever. And I'm not one of those girls who lies, and says they don't preform fellatio.
I wanted to throw up my ovaries after eating that shit.
The hot sauce did nothing for it. It would be like attempting to eat possum testicles and putting salt on them to enhance the flavor. Shit.Don't.Work.
I can't believe I wrote an entire entry on this shit. The best part of that meal was my strawberry soda.
You know food is bad when it being free still doesn't make it taste good. Good Golly.