UGH!! I went to Popeye’s this evening because I was just too lazy to cook. The Husband is in the field that means I can pretty much give the kids ice cream and we are set in the dinner department. Anyway…I went to Popeye’s. It was like being at home. In New Orleans they would ask you if you want white or dark meat. Whatever you would answer there would be no more of that particular meat. I happened across my Brother and K so we started to chat. Of course we were acting up in the line and there was this lady in between us. At first she was just staring at me and them shaking her head. We had to explain to her that I was not just some crazy woman who happens across NCOs and start to mess with them. I am HIS SISTER I said. She was then starting in with us …asking us what the breast upgrade was for. I told her it was for silicone chicken breast…bigger but plastic. That made her smile…for a minute. She then orders ahead of me…a 20 piece meal, all spicy, with all corn. First they ran out of spicy chicken…15 minutes to fry. She would wait. Then on to the corn…there was only enough corn left in the establishment for one large order of corn (3 ears). There was no more green beans and there was only 1 pie left. She was upset, but adjusted her order accordingly. On to me…I thought I was being slick by saying I want MILD chicken, but please no thighs. The guy taking the order told the lady…no thighs, only breasts, legs, and wings. She nodded her understanding and started to do my order. I asked for two pies…panic struck across the poor dear’s face. Okay…1 pie…I can live without the damned thing. I stepped away from the counter for a minute and started to talk to my family. At that point I discovered that K was the one that order two of the three pies that was left. I messed with them and had a bad omen. I just KNEW that she was putting thighs in the box. I go to the counter…excuse me, no thighs please! She says okay and I see what looks like a thigh being put in my box. I decide to ignore my eyesight and let her be. The order is filled and I ask…”Are there thighs in my box??” She looks at me and says…I think I put one in there. NO THIGHS! I HATE THIGHS. There is suspiciously no more chicken left in the chicken pit so I leave thinking that I have one thigh in the box. I will give it to The Boy…he will eat anything. So what do I find when I open the damned box of chicken?? A box full of thighs…7 fecking thighs out of a box of twenty. Dammit! I guess I will never escape the “We ain’t got no beans, YO!” folks. I hate fast food. This has made me make the decision to cook my own damned chicken from now on…
On a good note I got a chance to spend time with family and I called my Mom and Dad. So that makes up for all the thighs that was in my box.
I am about to watch a movie with my teen. I will be back later…



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