It all started when we went over to Kendall’s for a homemade KFC dinner party. Now, I love KFC and make no apologies for it. I ate a bunch and drink two whole beers. The beer was French and I felt like if I had one more I would become interesting.
Now, I don’t drink all that much anymore because it doesn’t really jive with the whole parenting an infant lifestyle so my tolerance is like, nil. Normally everyone holds at the two drink line at Kendall’s parties, but noooooo, tonight everyone is knocking them back. Soon they have a bottle of Wisconsin wine out. To me it looks like, um, white wine? Sure, Pinot Grigio? Hell no, it’s called Prairie Fume’. Go figure. I find out that smaller wineries don’t call their wines the same thing that other wineries do. It’s unique.
So, C. and I conferenced in the living room away from the host and guests and decided it was time to split. We announced to everyone we we’re leaving and Kendall, being the great hostess that she is, asked if we would like to take home the KFC. Without any hesitation or guest-like politeness I said, “Sure, we would love to have it.” Thank God the other guests said they couldn’t because they were going out of town the next day. I was relieved because there was no way in Hell I was leaving without the Colonel’s Secret Recipe. I’m also thankful no one was watching me closely when she offered, because my disappointment was written all over my face. I figure, what the hell, I’ve known her longer than you guys. I get the damn chicken. And the mashed potatoes, the biscuits, the macaroni and cheese, the beans and the big damn bucket of chicken! So, I throw all these red and white containers in my fridge mindful that I have snacks for days on end. Very important for the SAHD in me. Must eat, can’t cook. Change diaper.
The next few days are a KFC binge-blur. I’m in a crisis. I can’t stop the constant snacking on chicken wings, thighs and meaty breasts. Of course I’m licking my fingers like crazy. I hit the mashed potatoes in the afternoon and before I go to work Tuesday night I heat up the biscuits which carries me beautifully through a rugged five hour shift of hard labor. The next morning I finish off the last breast and I am officially out of KFC. Damn, Kendall?
KFC has totally stoked my appetite. Today I took Rhen out to my parents’ house and ate leftover pot roast and four cheese hot dogs. I know. I’m sick. Did I just say cheese hotdogs? After all of that, we went grocery shopping. I should be passed out on the floor, dying of cheese hotdog sickness. We come back with a bunch of fruit. As I was dutifully trimming the bushes outside C. cut up the musk mellon we bought. Now, in my defense I was hot and thirsty when I descended upon the bowl of musk mellon. It took me about five minutes to eat it. I’m a little scared because I’m not sure what this will do to me tomorrow morning after coffee. Of course, there was the bowl of grapes which I just about finished off too. I’m a little sweaty right now and think I need something to balance off the fruit feed. What I want now is a cup of coffee. I can almost taste it.