Don't make me put my baby down

A while ago, my husband and I went to our friend Tim and Julie's wedding.  Fortunately, it was in the Bahamas.  This was really my first time away from my first baby with all of my friends and it was a blast.  Tim was our original friend, but I immediately developed a rapport with Julie and her bridesmaids.

One of the bridesmaids was a spot on replica of Karen, from the show Will and Grace.  She LOOKED like her and her mannerisms were exactly like her, but most of all her voice (which I think is the character's most distinguishing factor, outside of her boobs, of course) was the same high-pitched, kind of whiny tone that Karen has.  I mean, the girl CHANNELED Karen, I am not exaggerating (this time).  To top it off, she had NO IDEA who Karen was and had never watched the sitcom.  To be clear, it was REALLY popular at the time.  Hell, it was really popular for about a decade. 

So, Karen and I are sitting around bullshitting one day at the pool and she tells me this story about KFC.  (When my book is made into a movie and she discovers this is HER story and not MINE, I will compensate her by letting her play herself opposite Jennifer Aniston, my character. Then, the REAL me will have a cameo where I walk by or serve them margaritas or something.)

Apparently, Karen is at KFC one night when an argument breaks out between the lady in line in front of her and the woman at the cash register.  The woman in front of her is rather large and is carrying a small child.  The woman orders a Family Pack.
Then the girl at the cash register goes, "Will that be FOR HERE."  (The woman is alone except for her baby, get it?)
 Lady with baby goes, "Oh no you di-ent!"
Girl behind the cash register goes, "Oh yes I did!"
Finally, steaming, the Lady goes, "Don't MAKE me but my BABY down!"

So all weekend if someone was making fun of you or insulting your Mama or something, you would be all, "Don't MAKE me put my BABY down."  Then everyone would lose it.

So after the reception, I am in the restroom with Karen and she is telling me how everyone at the wedding does not believe the story that I am a stay at home Mom and that Brad is my husband and everything else that I have "fabricated" in order to be a part of the wedding party.  Her theory is that I live on the streets of Jamaica and that I probably stole some tourist's clothes and have ingratiated my way into a free weekend with all of them. We are ROLLING.

"Hey, I just keep laughing about that story of you in the KFC, " I say as we are washing our hands.  "What WERE you doing in a KFC anyway?  You live in Chicago.  You could eat anywhere and you chose KFC?  I just don't get it."

"Well, honey, I wasn't exactly telling the whole truth when I told that story, " she admits in that whiny Karen voice of hers.  "The girl that I said was in front of me was actually me."

My advice today is a bit of a stretch, but I just HAD to tell that story.  Rachel Ray recently introduced me to using rotisserie chicken for any recipe that requires cooked chicken.  It is SO much easier than cooking chicken and then cutting it up.  It is juicer, too, and apparently not as fattening as sauteing chicken.  It is great in Chicken Tortilla soup, perfect in any casserole, and works beautifully in any chicken salad.  Make chicken spaghetti or pulled bbq sandwiches.  YOU NAME IT.

I keep a box of those plastic gloves under the sink and I use them to pull apart the chicken so you don't get it under your nails because that grosses me out.  I reminds me of the Mexican restaurant I used to work at and then I almost always have a nightmare that night.  My "trainer" tells me to just use the white chicken and throw the rest away.

Try it if you haven't already.  I really have no way of knowing how helpful this blog is to anyone.  I am usually behind the eightball on everything so things that people have been doing for years are revolutionary to me.  Oh well, if I change one life with my rotisserie chicken idea, then this is all worth it...