Chickens What do I know about chickens? A friend of mine who I chat with from time to time asked me about them. We couldn't think of anything better to discuss. I was suprised at how much they were in my life. I can remember a time when I lived in southern California and my little brother was in diapers. He was running around the back yard screaming because there was a rooster chasing and pecking at his diaper. It was pretty hillarious. Then I remember when we moved into our house in Paradise, the dude who lived there before us left some. There was a hen and two roosters. They were always fighting and crowing and all that rooster bullshit. One day one of the roosters killed the other one so we got rid of him. Then we just had the hen. We let the eggs hatch once and we had little chicks all over the yard. My cats loved this because the little chicks weren't very fast and I guess they were mighty tasty. I think Dad got rid of that hen too. In sixth grade, we had to dissect chicken wings, which I thought was super gross. I wouldn't and couldn't eat chicken as easily after that. It was just gross. When I examined those drumsticks from KFC, I could see the tendons and the blood veins and all that gross stuff. No more of that! I think it was okay as long as there were no bones or skin involved. When I worked at Target, we had this little safety policy and there was the Safety Chicken. If you were caught doing something unsafe while working, you had to wear this rubber chicken so everyone knew you were unsafe. Then if you caught someone else doing something unsafe, they had to wear it. One morning, before the store opened, one of the older men who worked there got on the intercom and was the voice of the Safety Chicken. It was right before Thanksgiving. Quite cute, I must admit. My final encounter with chicken happened in February at the Las Vegas airport while waiting for my flight. I was semi-hung over and needed food bad. We went to this little restuarant there and the only thing on the menu I could even stand to get (the only thing without bacon) was this grilled chicken sandwich. I hadn't eaten meat in over three years now, excluding the occasional seafood, so I was feeling somewhat brave. So the waitress brought out our food and I attempted to take a bite. Well, it didn't work. The damn thing started bawking at me!! I took the chicken out and threw it on the table, stabbing it repeatedly with my plastic knife. Needless to day, I left the table and ran to the bathroom to expell the remainder of the night before. yum yum.