Alektorophobia...Chicken Phobia??

Chicken for dinner again tonight. Why is it the only affordable meat/poultry not to have been put through a grinder and cut with sawdust? Oh how I burn for a good steak, or lamb chops, pork fillet perhaps...anything but bloody chicken!! Why does it have to be so slimy and whiff faintly of rotten eggs when raw? It's really off-putting trying to eat the damn thing when you're still haunted by the image of bits of it clinging stubbornly to the cutting board. Then bits of it get stuck in the brillo pad and you wind up trying to pick them off with your fingers until there's practically no scourer left...argh! What is this, the chicken's revenge?

Here's a great business venture for anyone interested; a take-away restaurant. I'm not talking McDonalds, Pizza Hut, KFC...if I wanted to eat giblets I'd buy a can of dog food. I'm talking take-away steak, cooked to your liking with a medley of vegetables and sauteed potatoes; salmon with asparagus and new potatoes; duck a l'orange on a bed of parnsip mash... On nights like tonight when the last thing I can be bothered to do is wrestle a dead chicken in the kitchen I'd pay good money to have someone cook decent, nutritious food for me. I suppose if I were less of a shrew I might have a boyfriend to do that kind of thing like just all the regular frilly girls do, but until I find my Petruccio it's a life of picking chicken off the brillo pad for me it seems. Guess it beats picking some bloke's dirty undercrackers off the bedroom floor everyday.

On the distinctly up-side I shall be going home for Easter on Thursday, where the man in my life - aka Dad - will be cooking up a storm. I'm told we'll be eating out a bit too, and of course there's always that little matter of Easter eggs...Hurrah!! Do I detect Chouchoute chocolates on the horizon? I can picture it now: Hi Mum, Hi Dad. Where's the chocolate?