Chick-fil-A

chickFilA

So, readers, let me share something with you. Bacon is one of the smartest people I know. Really, she’s clever and smart and really comma savvy. Also, she’s a really great cook. But, she doesn’t know that for sure (despite the fact that we tell her so and she runs a pretty successful catering operation). Because she doesn’t eat anything she cooks. This is mostly out of necessity. When you have celiac disease, you choose life and longevity of your internal organs versus gluten…but this means she’s missing out on some of the joys of those of us who stuff our faces with things like fried chicken. So, if you thought she’s a crazy person for not understanding the joy of Chick-fil-A, maybe you are at least somewhat sympathetic to her Chick-fil-A confusion.

Now, onto the topic at hand. At first glance, I can see where one might look at the menu and go…but it’s just chicken. Why are there 50 people in line at the drive through and why is Stephen Curry in the drive through (true story, we’ll let Bacon share more another time). Because it’s that good. It’s like saying In-N-Out is just burgers. Maybe…but they are really good burgers.

Aside: Notice how Chick-fil-A is three syllables connected by dashes? Notice how In-N-Out is, too? Coincidence?

As someone who has had a lot of fast food in my day, I’ve tried chicken from everywhere. I’ve had nuggets from McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Sonic, and Carl’s Jr (Hardee’s if your in the midwest somewhere). I’ve had those weird chicken fries from Burger King. And, of course, I’ve had chicken from KFC. And the chicken at Chick-fil-A is better than all of those. Something about most fast food chicken is reminiscent of particle board. Like pieces of chicken were put in a blender and then smashed together inside of a clamp until it became one. Then fried. But, Chick-fil-A doesn’t do this. They give you tender, juicy pieces of chicken with a surprisingly low calorie count.

12-count nuggets for 400 calories? Chicken cool wrap for 340? This is something people can actually have for lunch/dinner without ruining a diet! Seriously. If you remove Shakes and Fries (and their breakfast biscuits) from the equation, you can’t even order something over 600 calories.

So, Bacon, you still may be feeling bewildered as to why your neighbor (we use that term pretty generously, readers), Steph, is hitting up Chick-fil-A, but it’s probably because he’s trying to hit his protein goal without making him feel sluggish for his drills.

And my condolences that you can’t eat the delicious chicken there. But, go have a diet lemonade and you’ll already be halfway to “getting it.”

-Oleander

Bacon Challenge: I know you’ve been wearing two fitness trackers as of late. An Apple Watch and a Fitbit. What’s the verdict?

#bacon

I don’t know why-or even when, exactly- that bacon became my default word. And by default, I mean the word that comes to my mind when nothing else is there, which is, quite sadly, far too often.

It is rather ironic, yes, that bacon is such an integral part of my mindset. I neither eat bacon nor consume pork products, generally, unless it gives me an excuse to use a comma. Note: I apologize about the abundance of the commas. But how I love ‘the comma.’

But I’m not alone in this strange relationship with bacon. Others before me have said it better, if that is possible:

“Give me bacon or give me death.” –Patrick Henry

“Let them eat bacon.“–Marie Antoinette

Bacon is a girl’s best friend.”–Marilyn Monroe, sorta

As much as Oleander is a weird choice for my co-hort, Bacon is hardly the expected ‘handle‘ for me and let’s be honest, I’m just impressed that I can use the word ‘handle‘ in a sentence without breaking out with “10-4 Good Buddy” which may indicate that I am definitely not a millennial. (Note: The use of the comma makes periods almost unnecessary!)

We actually consumed a lot of pork when I was a kid. Dad built a pigpen near the barn and we raised them and slaughtered them and hung them from a dastardly hook in the garage to drain their blood. I’ve seen many-a Wilbur swaying there in the summer breeze, ready to become my supper.

Note: Dad pretty much ruined my aspiring social life.

This experience, actually, may explain the whole ‘bacon‘ thing. It’s probably the ghosts of pigspast haunting me, calling me, when my mind is silent. Bacon. Bacon. 

So, like Oleander, I’m not what you’d expect. I’m more. Whatever that means. I’m interested in everything. Seriously, everything. Especially things that are interesting. I have a dog, six birds and goats. Note: I don’t really have goats. But I find them to be very interesting! I like to cook and hike and make string art or whatever I find to be … yes, you guessed it.

Interesting.

So, Oleander. Here’s your topic: What’s the deal with Chick-fil-A? I mean, doesn’t it taste like … chicken?

 

#oleander

What the heck is this, you are wondering to yourself. What do Bacon and Oleander have to do with one another? Well, let me make that part easy for you. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Until now.

About 6 weeks ago I found myself, covered in paint, next to Bacon, my best friend. We were painting my cabinets. They were transforming before our very eyes from a terrible yellow maple to a crisp, clean white. And we got to discussing our long-planned podcast. Because we are hilarious. And the world needs to hear from us.

So, she turns to me and says, “What would your handle be if you had a radio show?” I started to think about it when she stopped me abruptly – “No thinking! First thought that comes into your mind!”.

“I can’t…it was too stupid!” I laughed.

“What was it?” She pried.

“Oleander.” I could barely utter as I guffawed over the insanity of it. I knew that an oleander was a plant. I was pretty sure it was a flowering plant. But I couldn’t have recognized an oleander if it smacked me in the face. “You?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.

“Bacon, of course.”

And, now here we are. Embracing whatever pseudonyms our subconscious wants us to have. And, over the past few weeks as we’ve told the tale to others, I’ve really embraced my new alias. And here’s why.

Oleander is, not only, the least-expected word I can think of for myself – an oleander is not what you think it is. That pretty pink flower “is one of the most poisonous of commonly grown garden plants.” Not what you expected, right?

And that’s how I like to think of myself. I’m not what you’d expect (although, worry not, I’m not poisonous). I LOVE to organize, but my house is rarely spotless. I enjoy doing Pinterest projects despite the fact that nothing ever turns out like I think it will. I’m technically a millennial, but I have always had a bit of an old soul (whatever that really means…). I’ve got two young kids and haven’t truly slept a whole night in over 5 years and I work for a Silicon Valley start-up. I’m a fitness buff with a binge eating problem. I really like change and take quite a few risks – although I am terrified of breaking the law and will not take part in any questionable shenanigans. I recently turned 30 and am now in the midst of a divorce and, essentially, starting a whole new life. I’m basically a bunch of walking contradictions and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Here on our site, Bacon and I hope to connect with our fellow women out there (and men – you’re welcome, too!) and know that no matter what, it’s okay to be unapologetically YOU. Also – laughter really is excellent medicine.