Category: Day to Day

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All You Can Eat KFC?

Would anyone reading this actually go for all you can eat KFC?

I’m so very conflicted by this; on the one hand I’m trying to decide if it’s worth it to leave work on time (that’s a post for another occasion) and stand in line to get all I can eat KFC. On the other, I think it would be incredibly disrespectful to my wife.

Sly spends so much time and thought putting together healthy meals for her and I that actually partaking of an ‘All You Can Eat Chicken’ scenario would probably set me back months in my healthy eating regimen.  It’s been a tough slog for her, coming up with things that I would not mind eating regularly. Lots of salad, lots of skinless, boneless chicken breast. Lots of it. Many chickens died to supply our dinners.

So I don’t have a problem saying I enjoy chicken. I’m normally a big fan of Chicken on the Way (Poulet En Route!) or even Cluck and Cleaver for my fried chicken fix. But I really don’t think I’d be happy eating my weight in KFC. Can you even call that chicken in the real sense? Perhaps more of a colloquial sense?

Anyways, if you’re in Calgary on 17th Avenue (and 12th Street SW) in the Beltline on Wednesday and you can stomach it, stop by for all you can eat KFC. What could go wrong?

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Salient

 

Throughout my adult life, I’ve battled with sleeplessness. I won’t call it insomnia because I’ve never gone days on end without rest. If you see a post early morning (like this one), you can rest assured that I was just unable to decide if tiredness was on the horizon.

No, my M.O. is sitting in front of the computer until all hours because I know that if I try to lay my head on a pillow, I’m going to stare aimlessly at the ceiling while my head grinds with things I need to do, plans that need hatching, protocols that need following and contingencies that need development.

I’m a worrier; I’ve always been a worrier but it’s the worry that keeps me and those around me (relatively) safe most of the time.  I think of scenarios that might not necessarily need thinking about. Seriously, why would I need to plan out my actions in the event the group I’m wandering around the woods with is attacked by a cougar? Like where the hell does this come from? For the record, it is a scenario I’ve thought about and have a plan for. How ridiculous is that?

This is something that developed in my early 20’s and has been around for some time. People that know me might extrapolate about why it began at that time but I won’t get into that now.

It wasn’t until recently when I was perusing some old episodes of Scrubs on Youtube that I found this song being used as a plot device. It describes one man’s inability to control the worry that pops into his head and how it’s causing him some grief and sleepless nights. Give it a watch/listen.

Yeah, salient.

There’s a bottle of Jack sitting on the shelf yonder that might solve the problem but only introduce a new one.

So I sit at my battle station, clicking away into the night, keying in words, phrases and the occasional sentence coherent enough to share, all the while wondering if my brain will release its grip on my body and give me some fucking rest even if it means waking up with a keyboard imprinted on my face.

Now… what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?