Here I thought unemployment would be dull, dull, dull, but I haven’t had time to do much other than go to boot camp (or go running if I am chez Serious Honey) and eat. SH and I are working our way through the great restaurants of Milwaukee and Memphis.
I eat fried chicken about once every five years. I love it, but am not blessed with a furnace metabolism, unlike someone I could name, but won’t. This person, who has been hanging out with me for a while, has been getting more rest, eating a better diet, and losing weight just by associating with moi.
I, on the other hand, am staying up later than I like, going to smoky bars and nightclubs, and eating way more than I am used to. It’s a good thing I am being showered with flowers and jewels is all I’ve got to say.
World famous. It says so on the sign.
Isn’t this what a divey restaurant should look like on the inside? And they played the right music, too. No Britney Spears. Al Green (of course!) and then some real swamp blues.
But the chicken was superfantastic. Don’t waste your time on that KFC stuff. If you are going to eat fried chicken, go for the world-famous kind. Even though they don’t make anything but chicken here, it took 20 minutes before we had our meal. They don’t make it in advance and have it waiting under heat lamps. It tastes like chicken, dammit.
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