Thursday, April 2, 2009


Ivy woke up at about 430, so my day started early. It usually starts around then, and sometimes I go back to sleep, sometimes I don't. On Tuesday and Thursday, Mia has school, so I have to be dressed fashionably and well coiffed, in order to fit in with all of the other stuck up moms. See the next post regarding the well coiffed part, very sad. Anyway, Ivy went back to sleep so I showered, had coffee etc and decided at 530 that I should get dinner going. Not that we are going to eat prior to 6pm, but hey, why not get a jump on things? I am making chicken and that always takes awhile to bake. If I have a late nap, it could be 7pm before we eat and by then I will have eaten everything in the kitchen. So, I get the cookbook and start assembling the ingredients for this new recipe. The last one I made from this book, SUCKED, so am hoping for better results this time. I mix the Ranch dressing and flour together to dredge my breasts in, just a little early morning humor there. I get the chicken out of the fridge and see these aren't just chicken breasts, they are chicken BREASTS! Mammoth, gargantuan, Dolly Parton sized pieces. They aren't going to bake in 25 minutes, like the recipe says. I will be lucky to get them done in 25 days with my oven. The darn thing isn't even 3 years old yet. I have to bang them down to even fit in the pan, let alone cook. I grab the meat mallet and think about where I can beat them down. It is 530, no one wants to hear me beating the meat, so to speak. I decide the basement is the place. Lots of yucky things happen in basements, so why not a little breast beating? I whack them hard so they flatten enough to be manageable. I can't get them that thin, so guess I will add about an hour to the cooking time. I bring the bags of chicken upstairs to dredge. I HATE, HATE touching chicken! It has a cold, sticky/snotty feeling, and is just gross. I mix the flour and dressing together, by now I can tell this is going to be another sucky dinner, and prepare to plunge my chicken covered hands into cold, sticky Ranch/flour mixture. My teeth are starting to sweat now. You know, that sick feeling you get before you hurl. I have already turned on the faucet because I know the second I am done, I will have to sterilize my hands. I put the first piece in and smoosh it around to get it covered. I am literally, gagging. There is always that squeeby little piece of whatever that comes off the breast, sometimes it hangs on for dear life, but I always remove it because it is totally disgusting. I use a spatula to get better coverage of the dressing/gloppy mixture. You would think that using a spatula would cut some of the hand mess, wrong. There is way too much touching of gross stuff in this recipe, so I will not be making it again, no matter how good it tastes. I get all of the chicken into the pan and set the timer. I rinse all of the dishes/utensils involved and then go about sterilizing my hands. I use the hottest water that will come out and lots of dishsoap. My cuticles will look like hell but I don't want any remnants of the chicken goo I call our dinner to be on me. Then, there is the cleanup of the prep area. Oh, no, there are squeeby particles and the dressing mess on the table. I have no papertowels. I get a clean hand towel and proceed to spray the entire area, twice, for best results, with a mixture of chemicals that I'm sure could send me to the hospital. There is no trace of the yuck that I was cooking so I am happy. However, the sink has the yucky dredge bowl in it and the mixture isn't coming out. I kick up the hot water and try to rinse it out without touching it. Finally it comes clean, but the gack is now stuck in the sink. Nice. I run some more hot water and turn up the faucet to a more concentrated stream. It seems to do the trick. I have to wash my hands again, just in case something gross got on them. I don't even have an OCD but chicken is so gross that I must wash, must wash, must wash. By now, I am angry that I have made something that is probably going to suck, my family won't eat it and I have to be sterilized after making it. I get it into the oven, it actually smells pretty good. By 630, it is done. I have cut into it, just to make sure that we won't get some squeeby chicken disease if we eat it. All I can say, is that dinner is done and it will probably suck. So, I have been up since 430, my hair looks like crap, my cuticles look like crap and I have created and cooked some crap. Have a nice day!

1 comment:

Hannah said...

Christie! LOL!

I am impressed with all of the sexual-sounding things you 'finished off' so early. Go you!

But your description of the chicken yuck had me on the verge of dry-heaving. Ew.