In the name of Bacon will you chicken me up that egg. Shall I swallow cave-phantoms?
It's not about having things figured out, or about communicating with other people, trying to make them understand what you understand. It's about a chicken dinner at a drive-in. A soft pillow. Things that don't need explaining.
Alphabet Juice is the book Roy Blount was born to write, which considering his prodigious talent, is saying a lot. Did you know that the word LAUGH is linguistically related to chickens and pie? This is the book that any of us who urgently, passionately love words-to read them, roll them over the tongue and learn their life stories while laughing and eating chicken and pie-were lucky enough to be born to read.
The South, to me, is fried chicken and catfish caviar --- that's grits --- and good-looking women.
And God says to all of us, you are no chicken; you are an eagle. Fly, eagle, fly. And God wants us to shake ourselves, spread our pinions, and then lift off and soar and rise, and rise toward the confident and the good and the beautiful. Rise towards the compassionate and the gentle and the caring. Rise to become what God intends us to be - eagles, not chickens.
I'm afraid to walk in public, because people look at me. But I'm not going to stop. I'm afraid because if I want to commune with my friend Shad (Meier), I have to ask him to cut my chicken for me. But I did it. And I'm afraid to go back and see my teammates and coaches because I know that I'll feel envy. But I'm going to do it anyway. Because fear is just a feeling, and if you can acknowledge that fear, digest that fear and overcome it, the rewards are incredible.
I said, "I'll take the T-bone steak." A soft voice mooed, "Oh wow." And I looked up and realized The waitress was a cow. I cried, "Mistake--forget the the steak. I'll take the chicken then." I heard a cluck--'twas just my luck The busboy was a hen. I said, "Okay no, fowl today. I'll have the seafood dish." Then I saw through the kitchen door The cook--he was a fish. I screamed, "Is there anyone workin' here Who's an onion or a beet? No? Your're sure? Okay then friends, A salad's what I'll eat." They looked at me. "Oh,no," they said, "The owner is a cabbage head.
Valerie was crying, too. She was laughing and sniffling back sobs. “I’m going to marry my snuggy wuggums,” she said. Morelli paused, his fork halfway to the roast chicken platter. He slid his eyes to me and leaned close. “If you ever call me snuggy wuggums in public I’ll lock you in the cellar and chain you to the furnace.
Call it crazy, or just chicken salad.
My Chicken can do a special trick! "And what is that?" She can lay an egg! "And what's so special about THAT?!" Well, Can YOU lay an egg?
Each month is gay, Each season nice, When eating Chicken soup With rice
It's become normal for me to walk on set as Popeye, Frankenstein or an Elf or even a chicken.
I'm a thigh-meat dude. Thigh is just the best meat - I don't get chicken breast. I think it's a publicity stunt that we've convinced people it's delicious.
I eat foods such as fish, chicken, fruit and vegetables while avoiding red meat, dairy and wheat.
My mother, on Sundays, used to prepare things to use during the week, like freshly made broth. It wasn't chicken stock or pasta sauces. She always made her own homemade pasta. So, the amount of dedication that goes into what these people used to do - it was a long time ago but you come to appreciate the hard work and the care about little things.
Fifty thousand dollars' worth of cabinets isn't going to make you a better cook; cooking is going to make you a better cook. At the end of the day, you can slice a mushroom in about three inches of space, and you can carve a chicken in a foot and a half. So it doesn't matter how big the kitchen is.
Purchase items that can be made into several meals, like a whole roasted chicken, or bag of sweet potatoes, and shop the periphery of the grocery store, avoiding the middle aisles full of processed and higher-priced foods.
Either people walk round dressed as chickens or they listen to Beethoven.
My father asserted that there was no better place to bring up a family than in a rural environment.... There's something about getting up at 5 a.m., feeding the stock and chickens, and milking a couple of cows before breakfast that gives you a lifelong respect for the price of butter and eggs.
Come to think of it, that word (choice) shouldn't be applied to people's destinies. Ever. Choice should be relegated to TV and meals: You could choose NBC over CBS or steak instead of chicken. But take the concept any further than the stove or the remote control and the word just didn't apply. - V
Oh, gross! Zombie goo. (Caleb) Ooo, I wonder if it tastes like chicken? What do you think? (Simi) I think I’m never eating guacamole again as long as I live. (Caleb)
Apparently, word of the chicken man incident hadn’t spread quite yet.
One the next corner stood a cinder block restaurant with a hand-painted sign that read CHICKEN & WAFFLES. There was a queue of twenty people outside. “You Americans have the strangest taste. What planet is this?
Back up shall we? When my brother, the crazy chicken warrior, turned into a falcon and went up the pyramid’s chimney with his new friend, the fruit bat, he left me playing nurse to two very wounded people—which I didn’t appreciate, and which I wasn’t particularly good at.
But this was no ordinary chicken. This chicken was evil manifest.
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