How They Fry Chicken

Working in a deli at a downtown grocery mart is quite an interesting job at times. Most days I feel like a hamster running back and forth with no real purpose in life (i.e. "I have to slice four more pounds of turkey ham again?!"), other times I meet so many new people, and learn new things, and it's generally a good day. Except when I almost slice my finger off and it gushes blood like it thinks it's the newest Niagara Falls. Eh, that I could definitely live without.


The one thing I've noticed over the course of working here, is how different the fried chicken we sell turns out after each person has "dropped" it in the fryers, as we call it.

I then started to theorize and over think it, as always, and decided to put it down on paper.

With my various co workers, [names changed] some have tough exteriors and others you can tell have the softest hearts. Learning from them and getting to know what goes on in their lives is really an amazing thing. Meeting new people, especially the ones you work with, can be eye opening on just how unique each and every one of us are. While it sounds completely lame, the more I noticed how the chicken turned out, the more I noticed how on point it was to each of the cooks.

Sammy, the head cook is a sweet lady with a wild side. She's a bar tender when she isn't working at the deli, and I can imagine her kicking out a few people for not taking any bullcrap. She'll be cracking hilarious jokes behind the counter making it hard for the rest of us to keep face. When she fries chicken, it comes out looking like classic KFC chicken: She's all about being feisty  getting her work done, and making sure everyone is happy. So with her fried chicken, there has never once been a complaint.

Bonnie, the assistant cook, is this tiny short skinny lady that always looks forward to lunch to see the "Marlboro Man." (a smoke break) At first glance, she's distant and cold at times, but deep down she's a Woo-girl at heart. (Meaning every time she accomplishes something, we say, "Woohoooo!" really loud.) I help her lift heavy things and stuff on high shelves, and she's generally a nice lady. Her chicken is nearly perfect, except for the random bare patches with no breading. Sort of like her: you see what she allows you to see of her, but occasionally lets down her walls and you can see the real Bonnie, outside of the deli.

Arty, the sandwich maker, will sometime throw a batch together when we need it. She's an older lady with short hair and her presence is all about business. She was intimidating at first when I met her, but now she'll giggle at my side jokes and is usually in an all around good mood. Her batches come out very neat and thorough looking, much like her.

Tara, my fellow night shift deli girl, is an extremely energetic and sassy sort of young lady. Closest in age, we usually have a lot of fun working together. Her chicken comes out messy, but it's only because she is usually busy doing most of the dishes and night cleaning, which I am always grateful for. So if her chicken isn't perfect, the rest of the deli usually is.

Now I realize this is an entirely odd blog post, but it made sense to me while I was thinking about it, coincidentally while frying chicken.

What does my fried chicken look like when it comes out, you ask?

Absolutely stunning. But it soon falls apart and I'll never understand why I'm the only person that fries chicken so beautiful only to have the skin slink off later. Not sure what that says about me, though.

All around, I love working this job. It's exhausting and I'm constantly running somewhere and my back, feet, legs, thumbs, and arms all ache when I get off, but it's satisfying work that I think is a great learning experience.

Deli tip: Always ask to have your deli selections sliced for you. While we put in a lot of work to make the case look fluffy and nice, I'd never eat out of it unless it was fresh.

Ciao,

{TSSN} Week 2: Hold the Hail, please.

So, after pore strips, I was ready to conquer something more. Everyone knows less sugar in your life, the better it is for you. Er...right.

I suffer from migraines, so I figured it might prove healthy to try being off sugar for one week and see how it felt.

HA HA FAIL.

Before the week started, on Sunday, I made a big batch of peanut butter brownies (I ate 4...) and drank lots of raspberry lemonade. (The raspberry was actually coffee syrup, which proved to be...rather eccentric in lemonade). I figured if I was going off sugar I might as well LIVE IT UP! Which only resulted in a headache that night and regrets about that fourth brownie. Darn.

Monday, I woke up refreshed (strangely) and ready to tackle my work schedule. Needless to say, the day went horribly... sugar-wise. I succumbed to two more brownies, some leftover lemonade and, horror of horrors, I found a twizzler to devour. Insert tears and another headache and I flunked the first day off sugar. >.<

Tuesday was definitely a better day. But only because I skipped breakfast and just had green tea with my Japanese cuisine for lunch. I managed to only put one packet in the two cups of tea I drank. A feat since green tea is of course, rather bitter. Wednesday I tried oatmeal without brown sugar, and drank lots of water and ate sugar-free jello. Thursday told me that the jello wasn't sugar free and I got a headache, and today, Friday, was strangely uneventful. I still had a headache, but I figured it was from my awesome sparkly silver headband.

Experience: No sugar for....6-ish days.

Lesson Learned: If there's one thing I've learned, it's....AH, FORGET IT. Considering the fact I'm already completely off all--and any--forms of dairy and shellfish, adding sugar on top of that was literally wayyyy too much.

Conclusion: I resolve to work on downsizing my sugar intake; but not completely eliminating it. Otherwise, I'll just be eating carrots, whole bread, and water for the rest of my life.


For you,

Shopping, Cinnamon Vanilla Chais, Crickets, and Sweaters

 Okay, it's official. Lizzie is a shopaholic.  *sighs* I never thought I'd actually admit it, let alone on my own blog, but it's about time I finally admitted it. And I know exactly what to blame. Well, besides my brain which is determined to make me go bankrupt over the next pair of shoes, I hereby blame it on my little plastic magic  named Master Card.

Innocence lost.

Ever think about just how easy it is to spend money with a card and not actually realize what's going on when you hand "Lois" the cashier with too much eyeliner you're plastic cash card? *waves hand* That would be me. It's really easy to just think, "Oh, heck, it's only $20...$30....$50...$2.5 million for this pair of shoes, I'm good." HA! No way in Haiti does that mean you're safe from spending too much. By belittling your spending, you justify your guilty conscience of the unnecessary purchase, thus plunging yourself into deeper realms of "I'm good" reasoning...then leading you to a place which is called the "D" word...the place every shopaholic finds herself if she isn't dragged out of her dark money hole and flashed a torchlight in her face first.

Two Ways to Cut Back on Spending: 
1) Don't spend obliviously. Unless it's food, gas, etc, don't buy it. If you have to, budget & saveeeeeee.
And 2) KEEP TRACK OF YOUR ACCOUNTS!
I know, I know, it sounds like a no-brainer, but heh....if you spend alot, you gotta track it like a wolf tracks a bleeding rabbit at the dead of night in the middle of the winter. I am that serious. And mostly, I'm talking to myself, haha. Let's just say I've had a near encounter on a cliff ledge of the "D" word and vow never to go cliff diving off into it ever, ever, ever again.

So! Cinnamon Vanilla Chai's, anyone? All this budgeting talk is making me sick....I'm a tragic shopping heroine in need of refreshment. If you'd like to join me, here's my secret recipe...but remember, "Mum's the word," lovies. *winks*

Mmmm, froth is the best, yo.

Lizzie's Fantabulous ICED Cinnamon Vanilla Chai Recipe:
Mum's the word, remember comrades.
Mix together the following: iced chai tea, (Yogi is good), a dash of cinnamon, a teaspoon or two or vanilla, some ice cubes, and coconut milk, (not cream of coconut, it's disgusting if you do), and sugar (as needed). Bon appetite, mon amies! See, isn't it lovely? Gosh, I could drink it all day if I could, and it's probably less than US-$2  a serving! Bravah! (: If you don't like mine, you can be snubbish and mean and try this chaiiiii. ;) jk

EVIL in bug-form

Okay so, seriously? If there's one thing I'd mark on my "Comments & Suggestions" card when I get to Heaven, it'll be, "WHY WHY WHY did You, dear Lord, create crickets?!?!" Grrr. I don't hold it against anyone, but seriously? Man alive, I hate those things. They are bad enough outside, but when they creep into the corners of one's basement flat and chirp the snot out of you, it's time to declare war. So far, this fall, it's been 21ish, Lizzie, Crickets, 0. *grins* But seriously, gosh I hate them crickets with avengance! (however you spell that blasted word.) I mean, the whole chirp-chirp thing is getting OLD. Crickets should try online dating services and leave the rest of us to sleep IN PEACE. I'd even offer to manage their accounts if they would just shut up! Haha! I'm getting pretty good at tracking and assassinating the little buggers, but I suppose that's not much a talent, aye? Hahaha. Pssshh, crickets. *sighs* I just wish they'd go away and NOT come back some other day.


Last, but certainly not least, I'm happy to report this year's fall fashions for sweaters is looking bright. Old Navy is featuring countless cardigans, sweaters, and vest with poppish tones meaning to please many a busy woman, Rue 21 is featuring large-print sweater coats in bold patterns, AEO is featuring the same lame kind of sweaters they've been selling since the 80s, Maurices is into purple and blue this year, Aeropostale...no comment, Dress Barn is displaying sweater jackets in orange and 'kelly' blue, Target's Mossimo (whatever the spelling) is going all out 70s here, Kohl's is featuring hot rocker chic Candy jackets, and Mr. Walmart....is well, really pushing his LEI puffy vests and plaid shirts...again. I think I'll stick to my new "baby"...a teal, tiny ribbed sweater V-neck from ON....just a heads up, girls, for some fall looks you don't want to miss.


Oh gosh, I did buy that sweater, didn't I? So much for reform... *throws up hands* -.-


Love always, Lizzie ♥

Dumster Bags, Petrified Roosters, My Music Slump, and Rubix Cubes

Just throw it in the Bag...

You have to hand it the eco-friendly people, they are pretty creative. Finding ways to use less or re-use, or use up what you have to me seems like it would be tricky, but worth it. Recently at Lowe's I noticed a new eco-item for construction projects. Dumpster bags! You just fill the green (of course) large recyclable Bagster© by Waster Management with your construction leftovers and the company comes and takes it away for a reasonable collection fee (compared to the price of renting and using a regular dumpster). It's made out of canvas that's completely reusable and is large enough to accommodate a small dumpster size's worth of trash, or around 3,300 lbs of debris.You can fill it concrete, or landscaping scraps, or whatever other construction type of trash you'd wish to throw away. Talk about cool :] The two only problems I could find with this method of eco-trash removal is that the Bagster© is not waterproof and the collection fee in some rural areas can be up to $129. Other than that, I'd say it's a pretty nifty idea...

Ewwww.

Chickens. Blah. Don't get me wrong, I adore a chicken in the form of edible food, but not in "real life." I can take Gen Tso's Chicken, chicken strips, Arroz con Pollo, cold chicken salad. Just not, for the love of bagels, a real live Americana hen! I think it's the chicken doo, squawking, and yellow beady eyes that get to me. Urgh, those eyes! It's like they can SEE into my soul. Hideous things, but fascinating when around little kids. My parents' neighbors down the lane recently adopted two Ukrainian brothers, ages being about 3 and 5, and they stopped over on one hot afternoon as the family was out of a lark of walk. A hot one, but they are avid walkers! At the house my mother has a few mobile pens with various breeds of chickens. Young chicks, year-old roosters, mother hens and the top rooster, stray roosters, the Big Huge Ugly laying hens, and more. The little boys were extremely fascinated with the roosters--namely, gently tormenting them in a young child-like fashion. Alexsander, the younger one, immediately ran over to the young roosters pen squealing in delight about the chickens in a language I assume was Ukraine. He poked his little fingers through the pen and that near about did for the frisky rooster boys. POW- SQUAWK- FLOOF! The roosters exploded into a pile of feathers, running to the other side of the pen for their dear skinny-necked lives, screaming protests. They were more skiddish than a pair of little girls finding a snake! Quickly rebuked for scaring the chickens, Alexsander was swooshed back into his mother's arms, but he craned his neck to watch and laugh at the roosters, who were squealing their protests and fluffing their rusty feathers in annoyance. I stood a few feet away, grinning, as I watched the whole scene play out. I have an idea me and Alex are going to be real, real good friends.

Hilariously idiotic? Heck yes.

What is it with music these days? I wish we could all go back to the days where songs were complicated stories.  All these modern boppy tunes of repeated choruses with alotta bass seem to be geared toward teenage audiences that are assumed idiots with no musical taste whatsoever. Just whatever is catchy and fast, cool and fun sounding right? Who cares about the lyrics, the distasteful use of explicit words, and ridiculous beating background noise? Or worse, the trashy lives of the singers. Well, I'll admit it, pop songs, soft rock, techno, punk etc...I do enjoy it when I'm out driving with the sun shining and the world is moving fast. Heck, even the beat goes with the road bumps sometimes! But try listening to Katy Perry's Teenage Dream, Timbaland's If We Ever Meet Again, or Mike Posner's Cooler than Me while trying to read a book...nearly impossible. But what's the solution? Beethoven?  Hymn songs? Folk lore strumming? Or worse, ethereal notes of New Age? No thanks. There just doesn't seem to be a neutral area. Either it's too plunky, too poppy, too rockish, too classical for my taste. I guess I shall dub this condition I have a ''Music Slump''.

WOWzers. DA-Huuuude. Geewilikers.

 4x4 Rubix Cube

I met this 12 year old kid at a neuro clinic today that could solve a 5x5 Rubix cube in less than 5 minutes. You could hear the rattling of the cube as he worked it with his slim agile fingers all the way across from the room, where his mother sat unfazed. She calmly explained to me that he could do a 3x3 Rubix in less than 30 seconds....I probably couldn't even solve one in 30 years. He showed me all his other ones that he had toted along in a reusable grocery bag (6x6, 5x5, 7x7, and a 9x9) and commented on who he hasn't quite figured out a 7x7 since he just got it yesterday for his birthday. The boy then carefully explained that the key is practice, but also a high quality Rubix that can shift easily, aiding in quick time to solve the cube. He looked like a nerdy genius and man, he sure could solve that cube fast! The things you learn while waiting in a reception lobby...




Sincerely Yours, Lizzie ♥

Crapple Pies, Bruises, and Paper Wasps

    Alright, I promised my friend Candi I'd blog about them...so here goes :) You know, McDonald's right? Heck who doesn't. Well, through careful observation, taste-testing, and studious thought, I think I'm finally ready to write to McDonald's and suggest a unique and wonderfully descriptive name for their so-called "apple pies". Call 'em Crapple Pies! LOL! Yeah? Oh c'mon, you know I'm right. It's a disgrace to even say they're pies at all. Have you ever compared those squared stamps molten hot with foreign objects in them thingys to the REAL thing? You'd probably get a taste score of negative -50. I do admit, I used to eat them alot...late night, pick up a small fry, a coke, and pie right? Wrong. No more. Nuh-uh. Not doing that anymore. Bleah, the last one I had was a partially burnt one in a remote Oregon town that I ate anyway because I was so starved. (It was like 10:30pm at night, you see.) It not only burnt my tongue into oblivion, but it also lost my appreciation for McD's tasty CRAPPLE pies. So, I abstain from them....unfortunately, I'm too much of a good person to actually go and do suggest the name Crapple Pies to the McDonald's Admissions Office (or whatever fancy name they call it) so just be satisified about laughing at it here.
Wait, why am I frequently mentioning McDonald's in my posts?! This is sick. I hate McDonalds. Oh heck, who doesn't.

Bruises. Funny, weird marks on your body that show up in the most annoying places with no memory usually of where they came from. Hunh. I'm pretty sure they've ended up on my Nature's Mysteries list by now. recently I walked into my mom's kitchen, looking for a snack to pass me off til she finished dinner, and all of a sudden she cried out, "Woah! What is THAT?" and pointed at my leg. Innocently, I looked down at the spot whilst she was pointing, and cried out, "Woah-h-h-h! What is that?" Strangest bruise mark I've ever seen. Usually when I get bruise its a small, darkish red spotch. This one was a perfectly and brilliantly blue SPOT. No kidding. I do not remember backing up into a metal pipe, or knocking a hammer smack-dab (cool term, eh?) on my leg so this was all very strange. I gingerly touched the area and WOOOOO man, it hurt. Normally bruises for me just have that achy sensation, never the big, honking neon sign saying "OUCH" type of pain, lol. After that little bit, I finished scrounging for my snack and basically forgot about it. Later, while I was on a camping trip with my friend Kate and her grandparents, I noticed it again.

A week had gone by and the bruise had now turned into a dark purple ring. Funny thing was that were was in the dead center of the bruise ring, a freckle! Katie and I laughed at the weirdness of it and then went body surfing in the river, at which I hit a huge sharp rock dead on my butt and have a large butt bruise from it. Anyway, on the ride homewards, a 5 hour drive, Gramma noticed me looking at the back of my leg and asked me what I was doing. I showed her the bruise and she said, "Oh my! Look at that mole in the middle of it! I think you better get that checked out." And went on for another 15 minutes or so talking about various nephews or nieces that had had cancer in different areas. Katie and I looked at each other and burst into silent laughter. The very thought of my little bruise and freckle being cancer drove us over the edge. We were sitting there laughing without making any noise, and I still laugh at remembering Gramma saying, "Look at that MOLE!" lol :) The bruise is gone now, and I still have a freckle....and yes, my butt still hurts too. But body surfing is SOOOOO worth it!!!

So...paper wasps. While taking a jolly ride around the yard in Karl, my sister's ex-car, I noticed a HUGE honking paper wasp nest in one of our planted cypress trees. I think maybe I'll go check it out tomorrow. JUST KIDDING. lol :) I know better than that, despite the rumors of me being blonde. There IS a difference between dumb and blonde, right? Right? lol :)




Sincerely, Lizzie ♥

Ticked off Models, Colored Eyebrows, and Starbursts

 Is it just me or am I the only one that has a terrified face when flipping through fashion magazines filled with strange outfits (that no one in their right mind would wear in public) worn by models with seething, ready-to-kill faces? Why the murderous looks, Vogue? Happy, fresh looking girls not an option anymore? Quelle scary.

Of course I’m not saying the cheesy grins of models from yesteryear are any better than the sultry, pouting ones of today’s fashion runways (As in RUN AWAY!). But seriously, it’s scary. I’d rather read a magazine showing models with happy faces…or contented faces…or ones that don’t look like they’ve walked through all hell and are trying to be so convincing as a drop dead (literally?) gorgeous model that they across as seriously ticked off about something, or in two seconds they’re going to jump you and kill you off with a pair of ridiculously spiky stilettos. Like I said, quelle scary.

   But despite my ardent aversion of said modeled faces, I did manage to find something scarier: colored eyebrows. No, I’m not kidding. Vogue has been featuring dazzling pictures of girls with hideous blue and orange eyebrows as a part of their fall 2010 fashion guide. What, do they want us all to look like aliens now? Sure, we all know it’s okay to have ice-blue eyebrows on the runway to match your ice-blue lipstick and stringy ice-blue dress (if you can call it that), but try walking around downtown DC with those babies and you’ll get the kind of attention that isn’t necessarily flattering.  I mean its one thing to shave your eyebrows off and pencil them on, or even tattoo them on *shudders*, or do it just for a Halloween gig, but to shave them off and paint them on blue as a part of your daily makeup? Now that’s where I draw the line. And so should those crazy fashion designers.

   Starbursts are a wonderful invention. They come in 5 flavors (well, the original kind do anyway), they are sweet, they are sticky, and most importantly, they are cheap. If you have a bag of Starbursts, magically everyone becomes your best friend; and it’s entertaining to pick out your fave flavor and chew them in sticky sweet bliss. However, wonderful as they are, Starbursts come with two problems. Problem-o number one is…they don’t go with anything. I mean, try to eat Starbursts with crackers…or Coke…or a sandwich…or popcorn, and you will find out fast that Starbursts suck with any other kind of edible food out there. I’m been eating Starbursts (well, not like all the time) for years, and I still haven’t found a food that “goes” with Starbursts, so I usually eat them alone…and man oh man it’s very tempting to eat the whole packet or bag, kinda like a bag of potato chips. That presents problem number two: they are really sugary. Sugar wrecks havoc in your mouth, and also in your brain. So, since Starbursts are practically all sugar, consuming a large quantity of them (especially if eaten alone) leaves you with cavities and headaches. Nice. Who would have thought such an adorable thing as a paper wrapped, brightly colored piece of Strawberry candy could be so evil? :)

Sincerely Yours, Lizzie ♥

P.S. I tried adding a new Reaction Label (besides the weird, funny, interesting ones) called "Yeah, that's definitely Lizzie." but it wouldn't let me. Hmph.

My Moon Chair Must Have a Magnet, My Brain Must Have a Leak

My feet tingled, alerting me I had been sitting too long. It was the evening before D-Day, Destination Day. The next morning I would leave early to fly Westward and be gone for two whole weeks, folicly in vacational bliss.

My tummy suddenly growled. My mind began to wonder about various snack arrangements as I lay sprawled on my moon chair. I had eaten all the ice cream cones (without the ice cream, of course). My beloved gummies were safely packed in my luggage that threaten to burst at any given time. The candy stash had been pocketed by my sister, never to return. The stairs leading to the kitchen seemed a lifetime away as I lazily considered possible eating choices from my round, fluffy chair. Hunger was calling my stomach, yet I stayed as my brain began to mess with my eyes—obviously blinded by the hunger my stomach was announcing.

My ceiling transformed into strands of Twizzlers. My carpet became a sea of gummies, the red heart kind too, my uber favorite. Soon all my furniture was turning into my most-craved snack foods and I laid there amusedly, as I imagined my bed being cinnamon toast with marshmallow pillows. Clocks became pizzas, lamps became exotic popsicles, collectibles became Chinese donuts or roasted coconuts, dresser drawers turned into whole sheets of Belgium chocolate laced with Mandarin oranges, (which, by the way, is so good it’s to die for).

I rustled in my moon chair and surveyed my tasty surroundings. Like any good writer would, I reached over on my shelf and grabbed a notebook (which had miraculously remained inedible) and instead of ceasing my cravings for all things delectable, wrote down my happenings as inspiration had finally hit me. After all, everyone knows that the pen (when written in earnest) is always before the pizza, if you ever want anything published, even if it's from a moon chair.

I think I’ll go get a snack now. ^_^

P.S. Although on second thought-- if you have a freshly delivered pizza, eat that first, write later. Cold pizza sucks. What also sucks is I can’t even eat pizza anyway. Grrr.

Sincerely, Lizzie ♥