07 November 2009

i (wont) take a feather with that

i have an issue. okay im not alone in this... gillian and i both have issues.

you see theres this thing about chicken. lets start from the beginning so that you get the picture:

if you have before or are now living in the states this first picture is obviously a set of three chicken breasts from ...well anywhere. for those of you that have not lived there.... this is chicken breast. from the store. it comes like this, i promise. nicely cut, no bones, just slit open the clear wrap give it a rinse and you are good to go.
for those of you not living in the states, for my friends living in peru.... this next picture is a normal 4 sole bag of chicken (breast). for those of you that do not live in peru... this is what happens when you want to buy a chicken breast at the bodega down the street. you go in, you ask for a chicken breast... then this gets handed to you in a bag. if you look closely you will find stray feathers... neck... innards... all that good stuff, somewhere under there is a chicken breast.. somewhere.
i feel i have accustomed (jeje.... gotten used to) pretty well to a lot of things that are different for me about living here. but i have a feeling that theres one thing thats just not going to change for a while. picture number two... it just grosses me out. it gives me the heebie jeebies. even more than the herbal drink on the street that kind of has the texture of hot boogers. it might have something to do with me being a vegetarian for the past 7 years but i think it has more to do with the fact that i was babied by yellow styrofoam cling wrapped deboned de everything chicken for the 16 years before that. (16 years of normal meat eating plus 7 veggie years = 23 + my recent birthday in the year i started eating meat again! agh!)

okay. so heres the story now that you have the background.

gillian and i both get creeped out over the chicken skin... feathers.. neck... and well it doesnt help that we just dont know how to cut it. we could decide to buy all of our chicken from tottus.. which is about a fifteen minute walk (a store kind of like a target or walmart?) to get chicken breast that is plastic wrapped with the bone... but who would do that when you can walk 3 minutes down the street and get fresh (i hope?) chicken for a lot cheaper.
well.. weve been working on this game plan. discussing about if its okay to ask the guys to cut off all that stuff for us. and we have been running into a wall. you see there are these 3 guys that work in there that are getting used to have girls from the united states around so we kind of keep our distance in the first place... last week or so gillian went in with the mission of asking the 'butcher' to cut it up.... but then backed out last minute because the butcher that day was the creepy eyed guy with the sketchy tattoos. hes got these eyes.. that as gillian puts it your just not sure if he thinks he flirting with you or hes planning how to kill you. he and i have actually come to a silent bond over our tattoos, or so i tell myself and i dont really see the killing part but he is sufficiently creepy. that day gillian brought home chicken that looked like picture #2.
now lets advance to this week. yesterday was my turn. i was pumping myself up as i went into the store... went to get my daily broccoli (they practically hand it to me when i walk in... im pretty sure im the only person that buys the broccoli) then i went to ask my question. and just as he was weighing my broccoli and the work chicken (or pollo) was about to come out of my mouth... she walks in. and by she i mean the 14 year old in her school uniform that knows exactly what she wants and is loud and how much is this and how old are these and give me some chicken quartered and blah blah blah. what happen? my already small bubble of courage... deflated into a bubble of goo. you cant do anything with goo. so what did i do when i looked at him? i said chicken breast and took the bag he handed me of picture number two. with a look of defeat i walked back home.

but the story doesnt end there.

oh no.

when i got home and explained what happen to gillian she looked at me grinning and said 'you should go back'

what did i do?

well after i took that picture and studied the chicken for a few minutes planning the first cut and holding my breath i found myself in the street with my bag o' chicken. making my neighbors believe im crazy as i was in the zone. i was pumping myself up and working out a story in my head. what happens when i imagine situations in my head? facial expressions. yeah.. i was talking outloud to myself walking in the street with the facial expressions to match.
my plan was to calmly and respectfully as the guy what his name was first.. then use his name as a sign of respect to then as him a favor. what really happen went something like this...

(me... out of breath from walking and shaking from nerves) hey
him: hey
me: silence..hmm... whats your name?
him: hmph... (look of surprise and satisfaction... turns slightly to the side looks away smiling giddily and... ) gibberish lakdjflahf (in a small voice i couldnt hear)
me: (crap whatd he say?) what?
him: hmph... (look of surprise and even more satisfaction... turns slightly to the side looks away smiling giddily and... ) gibberish lakdjflahf (in a small voice i couldnt hear)
me: (okay whatever) look.... i need a favor... this is going to sound strange... but... well... (and i plop the chicken on the table)..... look i tried to cut this and i just cant. i cant do it. can you help?
him: oh.. oh yeah
me: (YES!!!!finally!!!!!!!)

i got home and found out from my friend jamesson that a girl in peru just doesnt go around asking boys what their names are because they will think that you are flirting with them even if all you are doing is asking them what their momma named them. so i left a starry eyed butcher in the store that im probably going to have to deal with next time i want broccoli (because i eat more broccoli than chicken) and im secretly hoping tattoo guy starts working more often than soft speaker. but i got the chicken cut up perfectly and was completely content with the poppyseed chicken casserole recipe that gillian came up with (thanks for the poppy seeds mom!!!) for it.



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