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I have no idea when the chicken conspiracy started but I’m sure I could figure out if I checked my archives. The main thing is that, once upon a time, Beth discovered that pointing out chickens and chicken related things to me is funny. And, after much resistance on my part, I discovered that yes, it is funny. Unlike Laffy Taffy jokes which are just wrong and stupid.
The chicken conspiracy is responsible for my having a stuffed chicken named Mr. Calitri and for there actually being a picture of me wearing a chicken hat (not that I can actually find said pictures right now since my Flickr pro account expired).
Today, my boss asked me to call a florist and order flowers for one of my co-workers who is recovering from some sort of surgery that involved the gall bladder or a kidney stone or something like that (I don’t pay attention to these things, people. All I know is that since she’s been gone, there have been no random 7 layer bars appearances and that makes me sad).
I Googled local florists and found one that meant my qualifications (1. Local. 2. Didn’t make me sit on hold for 15 minutes before they even bothered to talk to me. 3. Willing to have the driver come pick up the card we had all signed for her before bringing it to co-worker’s house). While I was looking, I came across the best get well bouquet EVER!
Wait. That’s not it. Let’s try again. But damn, that’s cute!
It’s Dr. Chicken! I love it!
However, none of my co-workers approved and we (they) chose Bright and Sunny instead.
I guess it’s cute if you like bright and sunny flowers that look like they are smiling (and actually I do but still, Dr. Chicken is awesome!).
- When your day starts with a car accident.
- Yes. I said car accident.
- As in Keem and I are at the light, talking about something. There is a honk. Keem realizes the light has turned green. Keem says “Oh, the light is green.” And then…
- There is a crunch and a flopping forward of heads and general body parts because the lady who honked at Keem got rear-ended and that resulted in her rear-ending us.
- And then, when Keem is trying to pull over so the exchange of insurance information can take place, we are almost rear-ended by a semi.
- Is there really any surprise that I’ve been wanting to go home since 8:38 (when we arrived at work. Only 8 minutes late, mind you. If it had been up to me, I’d be back in bed, cuddling with kitties)?
- Yes. We are okay. I’m a little sore but am not sure if that’s from the accident or the fact that I am old and decrepit.
- We do have chiropractor appointments for tomorrow. To be followed by massages. I love massages.
- I keep thinking “Well, at least I wasn’t rear-ended by a priest (long story. Former friend was rear-ended by a priest. It was funny. But you might have had to have been there).
- At least I had a good weekend scrapbooking and cuddling with my newest nephew, the gorgeous Kurka (I can’t remember the official spelling of this) Brooks, Beth’s sweet, sweet puppy. You should go check out his pictures on her blog.
- Kurka is Ukranian for Chicken. It’s awesome.
This is from awhile ago, during Tax Season, to be exact. Ah, Tax Season. How I do not miss you, let me count the ways. One – you’re really, really annoying. Two – I hate you. The End.
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 9:45 AM
Subject: RE: Argh!
Make the calls stop!
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 10:02 AM
Subject: RE: Argh!
I would like to do so but unfortunately, your request cannot be completed because it is Tax Season, also known as Hell.
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 11:31 AM
Subject: RE: Argh!
Make tax hell stop!
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 11:33 AM
Subject: RE: Argh!
Um, last I checked, I was not the Princess of Darkness so I can’t. As Queen of the Universe, unfortunately, I do not have any dominion over the Underworld.
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 11:46 AM
Subject: RE: Argh!
You are not the queen of the universe. Never have been, never will be. So, you don’t have any control whatsoever! 😛
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 12:33 PM
Subject: RE: Argh!
You are mean. You won’t let me throw my Ninja Cranberries at you.*
*Ocean Spray has these awesome commercials where there’s an older guy and a younger guy standing in a cranberry bog. The younger guy is kind of goofy and, in my favorite commercial, says “I think Cranberries are the Ninjas of the Fruit World.” And then he does this high kick and makes a martial art sort of sound. Cracks me up every time. Keem had come over when I was eating some Craisins and I wanted to throw them at her and make a martial art sort of sound. I am partial to “Wa!”
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 12:34 PM
Subject: RE: Argh!
I repel your ninja requests. You are not Ninja, therefore, you are unable to repel the Ninja cranberries. Besides wiich*, an inanimate object cannot be animate. It is an Oxymoron. Part oxy, part moron….wonder where the moron part comes from….
*that is an actual typo. It is not as fun as “You are igonring me” in which I replied “I do not know what an igon ring is or how to to igonring someone. As for ignoring you, no, I was in a call.” Igonring is now in our weird Dana/Keem vocabulary (in which Keem (Kim) is a part of. And wuter (water). And many other words that come and go, mainly created by me because I am weird. In case you didn’t know that.
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 1:31 PM
Subject: RE: Argh!
Ha. Ha. Ha to your moron part. I am not trying to repel the Ninja cranberries. And, according to your statement here, if I am not Ninja, you are also not Ninja so therefore YOU can’t repel the Ninja cranberries! Ha!
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 1:36 PM
Subject: RE: Argh!
What part in what I said states that I will repel the ninja cranberries using some sort of ninja move? I have a notebook. I can swat the ninja cranberries. You are reading more into what I said and it is not implied that I would use some sort of ninja tactic to repel said ninja cranberries. I am resourceful and do not need special ninja abilities to repel something unwanted. Ha!
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 1:38 PM
Subject: RE: Argh!
You said and I quote “I repel your ninja requests. You are not Ninja, therefore, you are unable to repel the Ninja cranberries.” This indicates that you are repelling my Ninja requests. And that since I cannot repel the Ninja cranberries, therefore you cannot repel the Ninja Cranberries. It is simple logic.
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 1:59 PM
I can repel them if I wish. I have a protective, invisible force field that allows me to repel the ninja cranberries and any thing else ninjaish. So there!
*Notice how she changed the subject line? We do that a lot. We have been known to change the subject line five or six times in one email conversation. Sometimes we just send emails with no text, just subject lines. I do believe I mentioned we were weird, right?
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 2:40 PM
Subject: RE: HA!
How did you get the protective, invisible force field? I don’t have a force field. I want one.
Mr. Calitri* is not a ninja so you can not repel him.
Oh, I was thinking you should name your chicken Eggs and your pig Ham. So you would have Ham and Eggs. Or Hamon. I kind of like Hamon.
*Mr. Calitri is my chicken. In order to irritate Keem, sometimes I will thrust him at her and tell her that he wants to kees (kiss (I like ee’s)) and peck at her. She hates that. If you were wondering just what exactly Mr. Calitri looks like, you can check my profile picture. And read this post, because it will explain a little more the oddness that is me.
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 3:07 PM
Subject: RE: HA!
I like Ham and Eggs. That’s pretty good. I’ll consider it.
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 3:16 PM
Subject: RE: HA!
Oooh! To really change it up, you could name your pig Eggs and the chicken Ham! That would be funny.
Sarah named her fish Chicken*.
*She did. Can you believe the length my friends will do to keep up the chicken conspiracy?
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 3:23 PM
Subject: RE: HA!
That’s funny too. How about fish and chips? Or white meat and the other white meat… hee hee.
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 3:24 PM
Subject: RE: HA!
I want you to know that I had to miss a call because I was laughing over white meat and the other white meat. That is hilarious.
Sent: Monday, February 05, 2007 3:23 PM
Subject: RE: HA!
Yeah, well I almost busted a gut in the call because of your email pop up about laughing.
It is good to have this type of insanity to take place during Tax Hell. Hopefully I won’t have to actually take calls this year. New promotion and all and yet there’s still that chance that it might be required. Grr.
Hello – DM’s blog has been hijacked. Actually, this is Beth helping out. I am removing a portion of DM’s post (below is her writing) because it might cost a job or something. I am helping DM. Have fun! Be good! Encourage her to be good about watching her food. It dances.
Thursday, September 13th
Dinner – 2 brats (no buns), carrots and onions lightly sauteed in butter (freaking awesome). I did not have the extra brat or any ice cream, although I really, really wanted some. I resisted the urge and it didn’t kill me.
Glucose monitoring – 177 (which is awesome except I forgot to do the reading at 2 hours after eating and instead checked at 10 PM so it doesn’t really count)
Friday, September 14th
Breakfast – 2 brats (no buns), cheese slices on table water crackers, two yogurts. For some reason I was extra hungry this morning so I just ate my lunch and breakfast together. I might regret this at lunch time but I guess we’ll see.
No monitoring – ran out of test strips.
And I think to myself this guy can’t sing
“It’s A Wonderful World” is being sung by a guy in a jean jacket with a hair style frightfully close to being a mullet. When he first entered The Chalet, he said “I thought there was karaoke going on” in a fairly high voice. So it is a little disconcerting to hear him attempt to do the low growly voice. Beth and I have exchanged several telepathic looks. Pretty much we are letting each other know “Oh dear God, I’m scared now.”
Playing Trivial Pursuit with Beth
DM: What type of craft was the Super Chicken III, the first of its ilk to cross North America non-stop?
B: A chicken sled?
DM: No but now I’m imagining this sled being led by chickens. Mush!
B: What was it?
DM: Oh. A balloon.
It’s the Ken Show!
Ken is a cowboy (cowboy hat, tight jeans (tight in all the right places), shiny belt buckle). Since Beth and I are in no hurry to sing, Bryan has Ken just standing on stage and singing. Country songs. Kind of hot country songs.
B: He’s good.
DM: And cute.
B: Nice jeans.
DM: Nice belt buckle pointing to the package.
B: That’s not why I was looking at the jeans.
DM: I have no shame.*
*I don’t believe that’s exactly what I said but since she told me several times that I was staring and one step away from drooling, “I have no shame” pretty much sums it up. Also, Beth likes jeans because they emphasize muscular thighs. I like jeans because they emphasize other things (rear ends, mainly). Although Ken had nice thighs. Oh, hell, Ken had nice everything.
B: I have just realized that I live in the wrong state to have a thing for cowboys.*
*I never would have thought she did but she adores Clint Eastwood and her favorite fictional character is Roland from Stephen King’s Gunslinger books and Roland is somewhat based on Clint Eastwood. Now myself? I just have a thing for men. But there is something about a cowboy, isn’t there?
Where do they come up with these drink names?
I finally decide to go up and sing. Ken was using the mike stand and I stand in front of it. The microphone is right above eye level for me. I look at Bryan. He laughs and lowers the stand.
DM: Ooh. I’ve never used the mike stand before. I might cradle the mike.*
*We had a discussion one night about Steve Perry and his urge to cradle the microphone like a lover.
B: Are you going to dance?
DM: Maybe. I might make some hand gestures. Interpretive dancing.
A random man at the bar speaks.
RM: Bobby, can I get a double shot of honey ham?
What? I look at Beth. The beginning notes to “Give Me One Reason” start. Just as I am about to open my mouth and sing, I dissolve into giggles.
DM: Did he just say honey ham?
Beth nods. She appears to be as amused as I am. I turn to Bryan.
DM: Yeah, can we try this again?
While I didn’t do hand gestures, that didn’t stop others from interpretive dance
Beth wrote this.
“A woman is singing “If I Could Turn Back Time.” She doesn’t sound a bit like Cher but has a take on the look and may have practiced the movements.”
This woman has the plain, kind of horsey look, long black hair and is actually performing some sort of dance moves. There was hair flipping as well.
I think this may have been about the Cher wannabe but I don’t remember. It’ll work here.
B: Maybe she’s dyslexic and is reading the notes wrong.
DM: But the notes aren’t on the screen.
B: I know but maybe they’re in her head. Maybe she’s dyslexic and has a photographic memory.
I think there’s a secret reason this show is called Pride
Pride (spelled with a lightning bolt in place of the I) is playing on the big screen. Pride appears to be boxing with a bit of ultimate fighting thrown in. It really doesn’t make much sense but then neither Beth or I are fans so maybe that explains why it doesn’t make sense. However, you do find your eyes drawn to the screen, usually in horror or amusement.
B: Come on! Put your crotch on his head. That seems to be the object of this game.
So, so true. In each of the matches before, both boxers/ultimate fighters/whatever the heck they are would end up slamming each other to the ground and flipping around. Heads were in groins. Groins were in heads. Groins were in groins. It was very disturbing, especially when the little Chinese guy was body slammed by the really big white guy.*
*Now I see nothing wrong with guy on guy action. In fact, I enjoy watching attractive men kiss (totally hot. I figure if the average guy loves the idea of woman on woman action, then I am obviously an average woman. Right? Right? How come no one ever agrees with this theory?). But these were not attractive men. These were scary looking men.
Exactly what note were you looking for there? Because you did not find it.
A woman is singing “black Velvet.” I am not sure but I think the best way to describe this is Kermit on mood-altering chemicals after a sex change. Completely monotone until you get to the very end and then she sang the final “If you please” about 3 octaves above her normal range.
B: I heard that in the bathroom.
DM: I think they may have heard that in the next county.*
*Again, I’m not really sure that I said this but I was thinking it and it is my blog so there!
There will be pictures from this night, well, one picture. I will present this picture when I can make sure that I can formulate the perfect words to tell the story of a love so true, it transcends the ages. It is beautiful. Inspiring. It’s between Craig (Beret Craig) and James (yes. That James). And that’s all I’m leaving you with for now. Because I am evil. Hee.
Last night, being Sunday, Beth and I journeyed to our specific church, the Church of the Angry Frankenstein Monsters (well, that’s what it was last year. I’m not sure what Bryan has decided our new church’s name should be for this year) for some special karaoke hijinks (I love the word hijinks. I love the way it looks with the i-j-i. The three dots makes me happy for some reason).
Angie was there and we hadn’t seen her for awhile so there was a chance to get updates. I had my head turned (can’t hear unless I’m looking directly at people if there is a lot of background noise) and so didn’t catch the whole update but apparently the sex? It is good (she’s dating someone new). She brought her co-worker and friend Jessica with her to celebrate Jessica’s 21st birthday. Great. Another person who could be my kid.
Angie (to me): You look great.
DM: What kind of drugs are you on?
Angie and Jessica: Percoset!
Angie’s having some kidney problems and has been provided with drugs that seem to help. What would be more helpful is if the doctors could figure out what was wrong.
As the evening progressed, Jessica proceeded to become more and more intoxicated. Not sloppy drunk, thank goodness, just kind of silly.
Bryan: Why are you looking at me? Why?
B (Beth): Because we hang on every word you say.
Jessica: And every beat you (pause) box.
Sara (not Sara with an H. Sara “You’re so pretty” Sara (we tell her this and it drives her nuts) was there, wearing her “Tell your boyfriend to stop calling me” tank top.
Jessica: I knew that was Sara. I recognized her boobs.
DM: Yeah, if I had Sara’s boobs, I’d be flaunting them as well.
Angie: So would I.
DM: Oh, shut up (the girl has a nice rack (hey, sometimes I channel my inner straight man)).
Ryan: Yeah, they were out in full force last night.
Bryan: I thought you were talking about a group and then I realized you just meant Sara.
Sara was singing this song by somebody (Fleetwood Mac? I think?) and Jessica looked amazed.
Jessica: I was just singing this song in my head in the bathroom! I’m psychic when I’m drunk.
Please excuse me while I chuckle over this again.
Bryan tried a new drink.
Bryan: Don’t drink Jim Beam Black. You can give the money to a homeless man and have him kick you in the stomach. It’s the same feeling.
Bryan: My mouth is frothy.
Girl after my own heart. She really could be my kid.
Jessica: Don’t you love me? I love me.
Later Bryan was exchanging words with Sara, telling her to come up and sing.
Bryan: Strumpet? I have Shakespearean Tourettes.
Shannon was also there. Shannon is very pretty, a hair stylist (another person who has told me “Please! For the love of GOD! Do not cut your own hair. I don’t even cut my own hair!) who I like a lot but she is, well, a bit bossy. Funny as heck but bossy. She wanted Bryan to sing Purple Rain (because he’s so damn good at it and hi-larious).
Bryan: Dana (calling me up to sing).
DM: I’m going to pass so you can sing Purple Rain.
B: Wow! She didn’t say Candy Man (well, the man does the best imitation of Sammy Davis Jr but he did sing it on my birthday so I am trying not to be greedy).
Bryan: But I’m not going to sing.
DM: You have to. Shannon scares me.
B (gives me the Beth look): Who scares you more?
DM: I’m going to go sing now.
Bryan did give into pressure and sang Purple Rain. He decided he was going to mess it up so we’d never ask for it again. His plan backfired.
Bryan: Purple Rain – Comma – Purple Rain Dot dot dot Purple Rain – Comma – ooh Exclamation Point
There are no words to explain how funny listening to him sing every bit of punctuation in this song was. He is so brilliant and managed to fit it in there and be in tune. Amazing.
After he was done:
DM: 100 hyphen 12.
Bryan: Thank you for putting in the hyphen.
DM: You’re welcome.
So you’re all aware of the Chicken Conspiracy that Beth started, right? Well, Thursday she picked me up for karaoke. I get in the car. I say hello to her but I’m putting my seatbelt on so don’t look at her yet. Suddenly I hear this weird little voice.
I turn and look at her. She is wearing a chicken mask.
DM: Oh my GOD!
There may have been jumping. Anyway, said chicken mask is going to being hung up in my cubicle and I have just received permission to take pictures of my cubicle so you can see exactly how I have chosen to fill the walls here. Believe me when I say I use every possible ounce of space to fill with non-work related things – such as frogs and magnets and my piggy bank Pig and comic strips and lots and lots of political stuff. Take that, Republicans!
Do you know how embarrassed I am that there will be a GOP convention here and that the city is planning on making fancy new roofs and then stealing the pigeon eggs? Because apparently pigeons offend the Rupublicans. Stupid Republicans. Pigeons are kind of cute. Because they are birds. And birds are our friends.
DM: I kind of want to blow up the place where they’re having their convention (but I don’t know where it is so that might be a problem (And I have no access to blowing up things so that’s also a problem (that and I really can’t kill people. That is wrong))). Is that wrong?
Mike: Well, I’m not going to be in the building so I’m okay with it.
Oh, anyway, I’m slightly off tangent (big shock there) and I was going to talk about all of the chicken songs that we sang. It was awesome.
I sang “Passionate Kisses” and substituted “Chickens” for “Kisses.”
Angie and Bryan sang “I Had the Time of My Life” and used “Chicken” several times.
Beth put chicken in a few songs.
Sara: Enough with the chickens!
Welcome to my world, Sara. Now I just go with it. Although Keem does bug me with the sneaking up on me and yelling “Chicken.” Grr.
Easter Sunday is next week so that means there will be the substitution of “Jesus” for “Baby” because at the Chalet, our job is to educate people about new religious choices. Stay tuned for a list of the songs we sing. Oh, and pictures from Sunday night as well (yeah, yeah, it’s Thursday. What’s your point? I’m only a little late).
Last month, Kari and I were shopping when I saw a book set I absolutely had to give Josh for Christmas. I am a big Sandra Boynton fan and loved her work when she was just making greeting cards. Now that she’s branched out into children’s books, I feel that it is very important that Josh experience her work. We’ll be moving on to Tomie DePaola when he’s a little older.
Next to the book set was a book that I was seized by the urge to buy for Beth, forgetting in my insanity that she had put the kibosh on receiving penguins. The books is called “Your Personal Penguin” and there is a penguin and he is friends with a hippo and they travel AND you get a free audio download of Davy Jones (of the Monkees!) singing the song! Davy Jones! Of the Monkees! I love Davy Jones!
A few days later, not being one who can keep a secret well, I start telling Beth about this book. She looks at me. I recognize this look. This is the “Oh dear God, why? Why would you think I would like this?” look. I’ve received this look before, the most prominent time would be when I decided to buy her a monkey. Sitting in a chair. In my defense, it amused me. And I bought Keem a lion sitting in a chair. And I bought myself a frog. Who is (in case you’re not sure where I’m headed with this) sitting in a chair. So of course I’d have to buy Beth the monkey. A picture of the monkey is here.
Beth: I saw that book at Target with Steve.
DM: So you see how cool it is?!
Beth (in her tactful, not trying to be mean voice): Dana, I mocked the book.
DM: But there’s a penguin!
Beth: Remember I said I didn’t need anymore penguins?
DM: But he’s friends with a hippo. And you get the audio download of the song! Sung by Davy Jones!
DM: Fine. I will keep it for myself and enjoy the song. So there.
Beth: Okay. You’re really bad at this gift giving thing.
Sheesh. A monkey in a chair and a pop-up map and I’m bad at gift-giving.*
*Note: I am not upset about this at all. She wasn’t being mean and I keep forgetting that we don’t have the exact same taste about everything. For example, she likes to do math for fun. I should have bought her an algebra text book. Hmm…
Friday I called my sister to confirm that we were going to Ruby Tuesday’s on Saturday.
Kari: Did you give Beth the pig?
DM: What? What pig? Why would I give Beth a pig?
Kari: You know, that book.
DM: You mean the penguin book?
Kari: It was a penguin? Dang it.
Kari: I was at Kohl’s and they have that charity that they sell things for five dollars and they had the Sandra Boynton stuffed pig and I bought it.
DM: I love that pig! I want it.
Kari: You can have it if you pay 5 bucks for it.
We meet her, Eric and Josh at Ruby Tuesday’s and have a lovely meal, only made more spectacular by the presence of my beloved nephew’s fascination with the salad bar. At one point, he gets off his chair and heads away from the table.
Kari: Where do you think you’re going?
Josh: Garbanzo beans, Mommy!
Garbanzo beans are disgusting but the kid loves them, apparently. He even calls jelly beans garbanzo beans. I love just about every vegetable there is but I draw the line at the garbanzo beans.
Later Kari reaches into her bag and hands me the most perfect stuffed pig ever! I am quite excited by this and show said excitement by making the pig dance. And greet Keem with kisses. Which irritates her for some reason. Josh liked it.
On our way home, the pig firmly grasped in my arms, I continued to make the pig dance to songs on the radio.
Keem: Stop it!
Keem: Stop making the pig dance!
Keem: Give me the pig. Give him to me!
DM: Are you going to hurt him?
The pig ends up in the back seat, out of my reach. Sigh.
The next day, Keem tries to talk me into going to Kohl’s.
Keem: I want that pig.
DM: But he annoyed you.
Keem: No, you annoyed me. The pig is cute.
DM: Oh. Okay.
Keem: I also want the chicken.
DM: There’s a chicken?
Yes, there is a chicken. And he is adorable as well (there is also a rhino and a dog but, while they are cute, they are not as cute as the pig or the chicken).
Keem and I stopped at Kohl’s on Monday. When we found the display, I was sent over to collect the pigs (decided I had to buy one for Co-worker Michelle because she likes pigs (and hey, good cause and everything)) and the chickens (I had to have a chicken as well).
DM: Keem! Keeeeeem!
DM: We need to buy this book.
I hold up a book entitled “Philadelphia Chickens” by Sandra Boynton that also comes with a CD of 18 1/2 songs (one is even sung by Scott Bakula).
Keem: For Beth?
DM: No. Why would I buy this for Beth? It’s for us.
Keem: Okay. I guess.
Later that night, I am sitting with my chicken, making him dance. Occasionally, he will start pecking at Keem.
Keem: Dana. Stop that.
Keem: I can see the chicken dancing out of the corner of my eye. Stop it!
DM: He is my chicken buddy and will watch TV with me.
The chicken sneaks up on Keem and pecks at her.
Keem: ARGH! Stop it!
DM: Hee hee hee.
The other night we were watching Heroes and a new character was revealed. He is played by the gorgeous guy who played Raymond Calitri in “Gone in 60 Seconds” and is the new Doctor on “Doctor Who.”
DM: I know. Mr. Calitri, you are so very pretty.
DM: I know what I am naming the chicken! His name is Mr. Calitri!
Keem: Okay. You’re weird.
This was proven to her later when she glanced over.
Keem: What are you doing?
DM: Mr. Calitri is the perfect shape to sit on my head.
She did take a picture of this and once she has figured out how to download it (I would show her but she refuses to admit I might know more about the internet than her), I will post the picture. She has also taken to hiding Mr. Calitri at night after I’ve gone to bed so I have to play Find the Chicken in the morning.
But the most annoying thing is this. She used to sneak up on me when I was playing on the computer and shout “Dana!” which freaks me out. Now she’s replaced Dana with “Chicken!”
DM: Stop that!
Keem: No. It’s fun to say. I can see why Beth likes doing it.
Oh, great. There’s another convert to the Chicken Cult.
I have managed to get her back because, unfortunately, the title of the Boynton book has triggered the memory of a song. And I have begun singing the song in my head continuously, sometimes bursting into song in front of Keem. And she has not been pleased because it is close to sticking in her head. The song is “Philadelphia Freedom” but I have changed the name of it to “Philadelphia Chickens.”
With apologies to Elton John, I bring you Philadelphia Chickens, sung to the tune of Philadelphia Freedom. I’ll have to check to see if they have this at karaoke so I can sing this song the next time Beth answers my question “What should I sing?” with “CHICKEN!”
I used to be a rolling stone
You know if the cause was right
I’d leave to find the answer on the road
I used to be a heart beating for someone
But the times have changed
The less I say the more my work gets done
`Cause I live and breathe this Philadelphia Chickens
From the day that I was born I’ve waved the flag
Philadelphia Chickens took me knee-high to a man
Yeah gave me peace of mind my daddy never had
Oh Philadelphia Chickens shine on me, I love you
Shine a light through the eyes of the ones left behind
Shine a light shine a light
Shine a light won’t you shine a light
Philadelphia Chickens I love you, yes I do
If you choose to you can live your life alone
Some people choose the city
Some others choose the good old family home
I like living easy without family ties
Till the whippoorwill of Chickens zapped me*
Right between the eyes
*What? Even when it is Freedom, it’s still weird.
As you may or may not know, Beth has a tendency to say “CHICKEN” to me at odd times. If I say “What should I sing?” I’ll get “Chicken!” She will try to set up the random chicken sayings, when I least expect them, in an effort to drive me insane. As she has said, the best thing about the chicken is that it’s such a common word and so it will get me when I least expect it.
Last night, while Keem and I were watching “Whose Line is it Anyway,” the scene was a restaurant where the theme was horror movies. Colin Mochrie is playing a waiter and is asked for the specials. He lurches onto the stage, pretending to be Dracula. “Come to me, chickens of the night,” he cries.
Yeah. I lost it.
Chickens. They’re everywhere.
It is without fail that, if I hear the song, I will sing it.
As far back as I can remember, I’ve known about Scooby Doo. This makes sense when I read Wikipedia. The show was first broadcast in 1969. I was born in 1967 so the big dumb dog has been a part of my life for (sob) decades.
I think all girls do this at one point or another. When you watch a show, you think “Hmm, which of these men would I date?” Most girls would lean towards Freddy but you’d have a few that would think “No, I’m all about Shaggy, he’s so laid back and groovy.” I was not attracted (well, as much as you can be attracted to a cartoon (although don’t get me started on Shipwreck from GI Joe. Mmm. Sailory goodness)) to either of them. And, no, Scooby wasn’t the one for me. No, I wanted Jerry Reed. I have no idea why he appealed to me but he did. The episode he was in was on December 9, 1972. I would have been 5 so I’m pretty sure that I remember a repeat of the show, not the actual episode itself. I was precocious as a child but definitely not that much!
Oh my God. There’s a Scooby Doo Ultimate Tracks album. I think I need to have this. Jerry Reed AND Davy Jones! Jinkies!
I really think that Scooby Doo is part of the reason why I like mysteries as much as I do. I always wanted to solve the mystery. Why was the ghost (or monster or what have you) doing? What was the secret? Which grumpy person was behind the whole thing? Who was going to say “And I would have done it too, if it weren’t for those meddling kids?” this week? Thank you, Hanna Barbera for stimulating my love for Agatha Christie.
It’s easy for me to say who my favorite character was. Freddy annoyed me with his “Follow me, I’m a big blond boy and I know everything” attitude. Shaggy was well, Shaggy and while he provided much comic relief, was not exactly a role model. Daphne was sweet and pretty and adorable, all things that I was not as a teen. Scooby was a dog. I had enough problems with self-esteem as a teenager.
No, my favorite character was and always will be Velma. Stupid name, smart girl. I am not as obsessed about Velma as some other people, as this website will show you. I liked Velma because she was smart, because she wasn’t dressed like the popular kids (although honestly, Velma, anyone with half a brain can tell you – don’t wear turtlenecks when you’ve got a short or non-existant neck. It doesn’t look right) and she wore a lot of orange. Her knowledge always came in handy when you least expected it (somewhat like mine, although I’m not sure knowing a whole lot about Greek myths is ever going to help me) and she usually solved the crime. However, Fred normally got credit. Stupid Fred.
I WAS not a fan of Scrappy Doo. Puppy Power? Please. Let’s smash the little rodent.
Beth, you need to check this post out. Missy has just posted about chicken. Your influence is spreading.
I got the coolest notebook from Bryan and Liz for Christmas. It is orange (p)leather and it fills me with the desire to write but I’m at a blank lately. I had such dreams of taking the world by storm with my words and am wondering where my words have gone. Are they sleeping? Hiding from me? I don’t know. So help me out, guys. Is there anything you’d like me to write about (and you are NOT allowed to say chicken, Beth, not unless it is a request for a story about a chicken who takes over the world or something like that)? Any suggestions? Leave me a comment or shoot me an email at greenduckiesgirl AT comcast DOT net.
I came across this in my notebook recently. I never posted it because said notebook ended up sitting by the computer for the longest time (at least I don’t think I posted it. Did I? Now I am confused). Anyway, this is what happens when you ask Bryan for a writing suggestion.
I’ve not had a lot to post about lately. Just the whole moving thing. Ooh! The excitement. Wow! Last night I made my bed (okay, this is exciting when you consider I’ve not changed the sheets on my bed in, well, months I think) and Eddy decided to frolic while I was doing so. And, no, I’m not all packed (but I am so much closer to being packed than I was when I moved into the place that I’m feeling pretty good about myself).
Murder Mystery ala Bryan
When searching for post ideas, I sometimes find it helpful to ask my friends. Usually a word or two might trigger an idea. Using this thought, I decided on Sunday to ask Bryan what he thought I should write about.
Bryan’s (ruggedly handsome (as he reminds us)) face wrinkles in thought. And then he says the following:
Bryan: How about a murder mystery where the only clue is sausage gravy?
There is a dramatic pause.
Bryan: Which is odd because the victim never enjoyed a biscuit in his life.
I’m not really sure how to respond to this. But I’m a trooper. The show (or blog in this case) must go on.
A few minutes later, Bryan returns.
Bryan: How’s it going?
DM: Yeah. This is about all I can come up with.
I hand him my notebook.
“Fascinating, Captain. The victim was found face down in a plate of sausage gravy.”
“What’s so fascinating about that?”
“Oddly enough, he had an extreme aversion to biscuits.”
DM: I’m not really sure why the deputy sounds like Spock.
B (Beth): I was wondering about that.
Bryan: How about the vegetarian suspect says “Well, I would never make sausage gravy.”?
Bryan: Or would he?
Later he comes back, a crazed look in his eyes.
Bryan: And there could be a long conversation about whether the (not sure if he meant victim or murderer here) guy was vegan or vegetarian and the detective could say “It doesn’t matter. It’s still meat.”
I love Bryan. I really do. But sometimes he scares me a little.
Another night (or possibly the same because you know I can’t be bothered to actually date anything since that would be logical and I seem to run screaming away from anything logical (well, except for Beth and Keem)) I wrote this:
The downfall of society is not Bush as president. Oh no. According to Beth, it is lighting made from antlers. And I might have to agree with her (we were watching this hunting/fishing show and they were showing you this resort where they have a chandelier made from antlers. Why do people think this is a good home decorating idea? What’s next? Flannel seat covers?) about this.
Watching the same show, we saw someone stepping on wild rice and then putting it into a basket and shaking it.
B: They’re losing all of their rice.
DM: No, that’s how you separate the rice from the chaff.
DM: Why do I know that? I can’t figure out how to balance a checkbook but I know how to make wild rice. That’s helpful.
Later. Beth starts singing a random song.
B: I just made up a song. Did you like it?
DM: Yes, I did.
B: It’s called Da Doop Da Dee Bee Dee Be Doo. There’s a profound meaning behind the lyrics. Have you heard the chorus yet?
B: Da Doop Da Dee Bee Do Bee Doop Da CHICKEN Dee Bee Dee Be Do!
I, of course, lose it. She created a complete nonsense song just so she could throw the word chicken in there.
We also watched a show about plastic surgery where they were showing before and after shots of women. One of us remarked that none of these women really looked any different from their before shots, except for the fact that they were a) smiling and b) had pulled the hair out of their eyes. We decided to make our own before and after pictures to prove our point.
B (trying to get me to look sad): Think of someone killing puppies in a Cambodian death mine.
This does not make me sad. This makes me laugh. Which is proof that I am an evil person.
In the before pictures we look pale and wan and horribly, horribly depressed. In the after pictures, smiling makes our faces light up which proves to us that a smile is much better than having someone jab poison into your face.
*Updated to add the following*
Freaking BLOGGER! Stop telling me I’m not authorized to view pages. Stop it! I want to comment on sites! And it’s delurking week, not that I’m a lurker, mind you, but still! Why? Must? You? Frustrate? Me? So? And? Why? Am? I? Talking? Like? William? Shatner?