NOT THE CHICKEN I BOUGHT
Busy, I bought the last Rotisserie Chicken that didn't look totally cooked. Conversation ensued:
Me: This chicken is not done. The skin is soggy, I'm pulling it off.
Clint: It's fine.
Me: It's not done! It's not cooked.
Clint: It's fine, it's just sat a little too long before we ate it.
Me: Look! Get over here and look! It's red here!
Clint: That's just a little dark meat. It's fine.
Me: It's raw. I swear this chicken is raw.
Clint: It's fine.
Me: CLINT! You're not letting me complain about this chicken!
Clint: I don't see that I've stopped you one bit.
I didn't eat that stupid raw chicken.
That I brought home, to feed to my boyfriend.
He thought it was delish.
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3 comments:
Too cute! I would've reacted just like you did!
Hope he's feeling OK and doesn't have any puk-ish-ness....
The meat wouldn't even pull off of the bone on that stupid chicken.
Clint didn't get sick though. Good for him!
Good call, I think. If in doubt, don't eat it. Garbage guts that can eat mooing steak and not get sick notwithstanding. But purely on the rhetoric presented here, I'd have to award the argument to Clint. After all, he didn't stop you, did he?
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