I love the Wife's fried chicken, I love KFC's fried chicken, I love our local supermarket's fried chicken. I haven't tried Popeye's fried chicken yet, but I hear it's outstanding. I can't think of any fried chicken that I wouldn't like.
Unfortunately, I have been trying to eat healthier lately, so I haven't had hardly any fried chicken for several weeks. I've been cooking my own meals at lunch a lot, including a lot of fish, and grilled chicken, if I have chicken at all. Last week, though, I had had enough. I was totally jonesing for some fried chicken. In what can only be assumed is a communist plot, the KFC by work closed down several months ago, so I decided to go the local Cub supermarket and get a "bucketload" of fried chicken from their deli. (I put bucketload in quotes back there because they don't actually serve it in buckets, but that was the most descriptive and universally-understood way I could word it.)
|Look at that golden mountain of greasiness! I need to go to another website so I don't drool all over my keyboard. You stay here and keep reading.|
I took it back to work, grabbed a fistful of napkins from the kitchen, and sat down at my desk to stuff myself. Oh, it was so good. And, oh, did I feel so bad afterward. Apparently my body had forgotten how much fun it is to be filled with delicious greasy chicken, because it immediately rebelled as soon as I pushed the last bite down my gullet.
My head hurt. My sinuses hurt. My tummy hurt. I felt like I could hardly walk. (I will fully admit that part might have just been in my head.) I felt bad, ladies and gentlemen. And not the normal kind of good-bad I used to feel after gorging myself on fried chicken, but a legitimate bad-bad, like maybe this meal had just taken about 12 years off my life. I didn't like it.
So, I guess my "healthy" eating has affected how much bad stuff my body can tolerate. I suppose I better eat more bad stuff to build up my tolerance again. It's the only logical conclusion I can come to...