Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Chicken Fries Rock

Guess who came to the door a few minutes ago?

CHAD the UPS man.

Of course I looked like utter crap. I really should track packages from UPS so I know for sure when they come. That way I can look presentable.

Chad came bearing the Nikes that Tom ordered last week. Even though Tom has perfectly good shoes.

"They're not good shoes anymore," Tom grumbled. "I need new ones. I can't believe you're even saying a word miss 'buy kids millions of clothes when they don't need them.'"

Touche, Tom. Touche.

"Howdy," Chad said when I opened the door. He handed over the package. "Have a good day."

Then he turned and walked away.

I bet his real name is Wayne or something.

Anyhow, I went and got Burger King for lunch. I woke up with a hankering for chicken fries.

I have no idea why.

Because we ate at Burger King so much in England--because it was pretty much just Burger King, Subway and Taco Bell on the base--I am so sick of it. I'm not a fan of their flame broiled burgers to begin with. Usually when we went to Burger King in England I would just have a garden salad or their spicy chicken tenderloin sandwich. Or the chicken fries, of course. Tom and I would usually get a six piece and share those on the way home. Dipped in honey mustard sauce.

On the drive there I had to stop to let a pedestrian walk across the crosswalk.

Normally people rush across. That's how I use a crosswalk: if a car is waiting for me I rush across. It's really that simple.

But this chick sauntered across very very slowly.

Any slower and she'd be walking backwards.

She was probably one of those types who calls herself a diva and thinks it's cute.

It's not.

Calling yourself a diva is no longer cute after the age of ten. Sorry.

She was talking on her hot pink cell phone that was decorated with those little crystal thingies. She had on tight jeans, a tight top and those sunglasses that make you look like a bug.

Seriously, how did those come into fashion? I don't think it's attractive to cover up 75% of your face with sunglasses.

"Oh I know Benji, I know. I'll be there later to party," the girl was saying into her sparkly phone as she took baby steps into the crosswalk. Her eyes flicked briefly to my car which was waiting impatiently for her to cross. "I'll bring the vodka, don't you worry," she continued and gave a laugh which reminded me of Cruella deVille.

At this point she was only in the middle of the crosswalk.

I mean ??

How full of yourself can you be to take that long?

If I had been a self-proclaimed diva then I probably would have laid on the horn.

As it is, I'm not a diva, I'm too nice so I just watched the irritating lady cross with a shake of my head and my fingers drumming impatiently against the wheel.

"It won't be like last time..." was the last thing I heard DivaLady say before she finally, MERCIFULLY stepped up onto the sidewalk.

I wonder what happened last time?

She probably had a mini-freak out because Benji looked at another woman.

Divas tend to get pissy if they're not the center of attention, you know.

I drove on my way to Burger King and opted to park and go in.

Because apparently the drive thru confuses the workers inside. I used the drive thru once because I had a craving for a chocolate milkshake and waited for five minutes before someone burst onto the speaker.


I nearly jumped out of my skin because as most people know, I scare very easily.

"I'd just like a small chocolate shake," I said, my heart racing from the shock of the sudden voice.


"A SMALL. CHOCOLATE. SHAKE!" I practically screamed into the intercom.



Where did she get fries from a small chocolate shake?

"No, a SMALLLLLL. CHOCOLATEEEE. SHAKKKKKKKEEE!" I repeated. I paused after each word. It's like what people do when they assume another person can't speak English. They speak very very slowly as though that'll help the person comprehend. (I don't think it does..I mean if I went to France and someone spoke French words very very slowly in my face I'd still look at them blankly and go, "Je ne sais pas.." Which is like the only phrase I remember from taking two years of French in high school..)

"ACHOCOLATESHAKE?" boomed the voice.



Of course when I got to the window there was more confusion. The lady leaned out the window and went, "I'm sorry. We're having issues with the milkshake machine. Could you pull forward and park in a spot and we'll bring it out to you as soon as we can?"

As soon as they could was nearly fifteen minutes later!

Finally a woman walked out the front door bearing my small chocolate shake. I got out of the car and waved because she looked baffled as her eyes scanned all the cars. She noticed me and walked forward.

"Here," she said, practically shoving the cold dessert into my palm. Then she turned and stomped back inside.

Well okay then.

So you can see why I preferred to walk inside.

I gathered Natalie and headed indoors. Thankfully there was only one person in line. Since it was just turning 11 I had beat the lunch crowd. If you come anytime after 1130 you might as well not even bother. Because there is usually a 20 minute wait if you come during the lunch rush.

While we were waiting a couple came in and stood behind me. The woman had a little girl that looked around Natalie's age in her arms. I could see her staring at Natalie and then a few seconds later she went,

"Excuse me?"

I turned slightly. "Yes?" I was hoping I didn't have something embarrassing going on with me. Like toilet paper sticking from the bottom of my shoe or a booger on my cheek.

"Where did you get that outfit?" she gestured to Natalie's Spring Rainbow outfit from Gymboree. Oh phew. Clothes talk.

Natalie was wearing this:

She had everything in the picture on. Including the sunglasses. I think she's been noticing that I wear glasses and lately she's been reaching for hers so she can be like Mommy. It's flattering, really.

"Oh. Gymboree," I said with a grin. My pulse raced a little in excitement over one of my favorite words being uttered: Gymboree.

The woman looked at her husband, who stood with his hands jammed in his pockets and was staring intently at the above menu.

"Mike," she hissed. "We have to get that outfit for Anna." She pointed at Natalie's outfit. "It's at Gymboree."

Mike didn't seem to care. He gave a little shrug, his eyes never leaving the menu.

"Thanks," the woman told me. "We'll be going to Gymboree later today."

I did see Mike scowl slightly.


See, at least five of my readers have told me that they've gone to Gymboree because of me. And spent over $100 on the same outfits that I've bought Natalie.

So I have at least five husbands who are probably not pleased with me.

Well six now, including Mike.

Sorry Mike.

I ordered my chicken fries with the buffalo and honey mustard sauce. I was surprised when they actually handed over my order less than five minutes later.

Then I came home and happily devoured my chicken fries. I offered one to Natalie and she just twisted it around her fingers, took a lick, looked utterly disgusted and tossed it on the ground. And mashed it with her palm for good measure.

When Natalie takes her nap I think I'm going to watch The Tudors. I've discovered OnDemand. It already has the episode that would usually air on Sunday up. I always assumed OnDemand meant you had to pay but you don't! So I'm going to get my Jonathan Rhys Meyers love. I mean yum. Although I like him better when he speaks in his Irish accent. Although I looked him up and apparently he's an alcoholic which is a huge no no for me. But then again, I'm a children's clothing addict so...I don't think it would go well if we got together. He'd be all, "I need a drink!" and I'd be all, "I need that outfit!" Then we'd be all, "Okay you can have one drink and I can have one outfit," because we'd think then it would be okay.

It would be a messy messy relationship I think.

Here are pictures of Natalie:


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