YSaC, Vol. 1020: She’s got a chicken to ride, and she don’t care!
We need Chicken Suits!
I need as many chicken suits as I can find in the area, we would be willing to simply borrow them if you have any lying around the house OR if you want to give the chicken costume to a good home we would be up to taking them off of your hands. Also, because I don’t know what the “going rate” is for chicken costumes, we would be up to discuss paying for chicken costumes too, depending on the specific situation and condition of the costume. PLEASE let me know, asap!
-Haley
Chicken chicken? Chicken chicken chicken chicken chicken.
Chicken. Chicken. Chicken.
Chicken chicken, chicken chicken chicken chicken; chicken, chicken chicken chicken!* Chicken chicken chicken (chicken chicken chicken chicken chicken), chicken chicken chicken. Chicken-chicken chicken!
Chicken, dbaran!
*Chicken chicken chicken chicken chicken chicken.
OMG…someone else’s husband is not allowing her to buy new towels, amiright?
This is actually good information to know.
When hubby forbids buying {insert most.wanted.item. here} the natural response is…..chickens – be it suits or large, pointy, sharp metal statues.
*adds tip to ever-expanding hubby handbook*
And if you have no idea what I am talking about go here:
http://thebloggess.com/
Oh my, CJ! I just read some of your blog. You are hilarious! Coffee, nose, monitor hilarious. 😀
LRC – wish that was my blog, but it’s not. She’s hilarious though, isn’t she? I love her stuff and can soooooooooo relate.
All I can say is, Poor Victor. 8)
I love her, too. One of my friends just sent that link this morning saying she laughed until she cried. When I discovered her last spring and read her archives, I’m sure the neighbors thought I was completely insane, intermittently bursting into laughter with no audio media and no one joining me (the only other time this happened was when I read the CakeWrecks archives). Heck, the cat probably thought I was nuts, too.
And Lara likes her as well!
Damn straight Lola! I recommend her to anyone who needs a good laugh. I discovered her from the telemarketing letter she wrote awhile back and, like Lola, I laughed until I cried. I have been a huge fan ever since. I love it when she talks about meeting Neil Gaiman. I love that she needs “confidence wigs.” I understand that kind of anxiety and I admire her ability to overcome it and be so funny even while wearing what is obviously a very bad wig at conventions.
I just realized it was Lola’s friend who laughed until she cried. Lola, you should have laughed until you cried. Just so I could be right when I made that comment. Do you see how that works?
I adore anyone who also adores Jenny The Bloggess. And that includes Wil Wheaton. I just found out that he first commented on her blog back in 2007; I thought the collating photo was their first interaction. J’adore!
Chicken chicken chicken. Chicken chicken? Chicken chicken!
It’s either the avian flu or Exotic Newcastle Disease. Lab results may vary.
It’s a thinly-disguised “adult services” ad, is what I’m thinking . . .
Der Chicken in der oven Bork.
Bork! Bork! Bork!
CHICKEN!
Cow?
You laugh, but I’ve seen the legendary chicken cow. Seen it with my own two eyes, I have, and let me tell you, never a more fearsome hybrid of beef and fowl has there been. Big as an ox, ‘e was, all muscle and sinew covered in patchy black and white feathers, his long neck sprouting an angry-looking head, razor-sharp comb and wicked dagger-like beak of a good six inches — looked more like a foot if it was an inch when it’s staring you down.
Ran across ‘im late one night on my way home from the market. He was protecting a clutch o’ calf eggs, an’ it musta been I got too close, for ‘e lurched up at me with wailin’ a right terrifyin’ “mooooooobawk!” like some kinda goddamn injured banshee or somethin’. Well I scooted back right quick, an’ ‘is beak just missed piercin’ me right through the chest or I woulda been a goner sure. So I’sa makin’ these kinda cooin’ noises, see, tryinna calm the beast down so I could make good my escape, an’ he jus’ stood there eyein’ me l like I were a fat, juicy worm. So I’m backin’ up slowly, makin’ sure I’m steppin’ away from the eggs there, showin’ it I weren’t no threat, an’ it didn’t try an’ chase me or nothin’, but that stare was sure ’nuff ta turn my insides ta jelly, no doubt. When I got far enough away I turned tail and ran like the devil hisself was grabbin’ at my heels.
I’d betcha dollars t’ donuts it’s still out there, too — maybe lots of ’em if’n it managed to hatch them eggs. Best you be careful what you say.
Oh, so sorry, Mindfield, but the answer we were looking for was “penis!” Thanks for playing.
Damn…and here I thought it was “pecil”.
Sigh…I can never win at these games.
Pecil?
EDIT: Dangit CJ, you’re some kinda ninja.
She’s a cat ninja, the stealthiest (but laziest) of all ninjas.
That’s right. I am a cat ninja.
And I’ll prove it.
Right after my nap.
Mooobawk. ‘Nuff said.
The sky is falling!!
Personally I’m a turkey man, myself.
You know, I’m really glad they included a photo, because I was wondering who felt compelled to dress all of their chickens formally, in suits. *relief*
But then you would need some chicken formal gowns as well. It would be silly to just dress up the cocks and not the hens.
Putting a dress on a cock is just silly, GC.
Yeah. Everyone knows they wear onesies.
Shows what you know – If you dress up your cock you could take it to much nicer places.
MF – I think most of them wear a pair, or “twosies”. And GC, you are probably right – I just remembered “La Cage aux Folles.
Have you seen the well-endowed, flashing themselves to the crowd
Trenchcoats flapping in the breeze, schmeckles hanging to their knees
Coppers making lots of collars, fining them for forty dollars
It’s worth every dime for a wonderful time
If you’re blue and you don’t know where to go to
Expose yourself without being nicked
Gussy up your dick
Different outfits like a raincoat, pants with stripes
And crotchless panties look quite slick
Put ’em on your dick
Dressed up with a snappy-looking goatee
Trying hard to look like Ronald Jeremy (check my wee-wee!)
Come, let’s mix where cock-a-fellers show their tricks
With umbrellas in their mitts
To cover up their dicks
Strap a little hat over your chappie
You’ll make all the ladies very happy (chic and scrappy!)
You’ll declare it’s much better when you slap on
Fashionable couture that fits
Snug around your dick
kokigami
That is all.
I agree, Ghostcat. A tiny little top hat would go a long way to class one up.
A top hat with a reservoir tip.
And a monocle.
And a cravat.
Where EXACTLY would the cravat go? I’m a little foggy on whether it should be worn high or low.
But, would a velvet cummerbund be over the top?
Surely a cummerbund would be around the middle. Over the top would just be silly.
Stop calling it Shirley. It’s just the right size for a boy my age.
GC – if I take it someplace ‘nicer’, GrampMommy is gonna be REALLY ticked.
These must be for the Groucho Marx remake of “Cats” I’ve heard so much about…
I would pay to see that
Chickennnnn suuuuuits! They’re everywhere! They’re everywhere!
When you find yourself in danger, when you’re threatened by a stranger,
When it looks like you will take a lickin’ (cluckcluclcluckcluck!)
There is someone waiting, Who will hurry up and rescue you,
Just Call for Super Chicken! (cluckack!)
And if you’re afraid you’ll have to overlook it.
Besides, you knew the job was dangerous when you took it.
Still makes me laugh when I hear it.
Super Chicken Theme Song
“Quick, Fred, to the Super Coupe!”
Seeing that right after the discussion of dressed-up cocks above…
Hey, make some room in the corner! I brought cake.
Ooh, leftover birthday cake is the bestest kind of cake!
Except for fresh birthday cake, of course.
I have it on the best authority (Mom) that birthday cakes don’t contain any calories.
Well, there was no birthday cake on my actual birthday. My labmates got me and another labmate cake on Wed., b/c that was the best day for everyone. And I made cake this morning, which is currently being decorated by a friend, and which will be eaten tomorrow. So no leftover birthday cake at the moment, but if there is, I’ll be sure to bring it by the snark lounge on Sunday. 🙂
[harumph]
just realized I had been promised both cake and pie for my birthday, and neither promise was fulfilled.
O wither constancy; thy former surety hath flown the coop.
[/returns to surly irritation with the day, entire]
Cap’n, that is unacceptable. I will see what I can do to remedy the situation.
I can email you some doughnut seeds, Cap’n.
Didn’t you send the last case of doughnut seeds to your local fraternal order of police? I’m positive you mentioned it not too long ago.
Just be sure to say the magic words when planting the doughnut seeds: Cheerio!
My birthday is tomorrow. I’m expecting pudding flambé.
In case I don’t get here to say it tomorrow, Happy Birthday Camille!!!
“Finger-lickin’ chicken flickin’,
Chicken plucken’, finger…
..
.
…wavin’!
Chicken suits are like loose change…check under the couch cushions. I just found a few!
I want to live in your house. I can only imagine what I’ll find behind the washer/dryer.
I keep an elephant behind mine. You never know when you might need a pachyderm.
I understand they’re great for pressure-washing out tough stains. Plus, if you shop around, you can get one for peanuts.
I actually build and supply decorative elephants for any room in your house!
It’s better not to talk about them.
You’re never suppose to talk about the elephant.
Or the 800-pound gorilla. I don’t even know the name of mine. We just politely avoid each others’ eyes.
Mine is named Humphrey. He’s a pretty nice primate, polite and well-mannered. The sleeping arrangements are problematic, however.
Humphrey must be a cuddler.
The Other Dave speaks truth; it is hard to talk with those who have not, after having seen the elephant.
Mine is named Walter. He’s big on grooming. Takes forever to get him into the car to go out to eat dinner.
Listed under ‘Trade/Barter’
Have Chicken Suits – will trade for Breasts and Thighs.
Call (xxx-xxxx) or respond with email (include pics for faster response).
That’s going to be one weird flash mob.
I hope they do the Chicken Dance.
Followed by Surfin’ Bird, and then everyone heads outside for a nice barbecue.
I can just see a spoof of the “Eat Mor Chikin” cows that advertise for Chik-fil-a. “Eat Mor Beaf!”
Lets see here: Chipmunk, squirrel, rabbit, owl, duck, goose, fox, and not.a.lion.
Damn, no chicken suit. I should put an ad on Craigslist…
I was really in the mood for Cornish Game Hen costumes.
I don’t like Cornish Game Hens. You can just tell by the name that they are a bunch of players.
I try not to pigeon-hole them by accusing them all of being players.
I just wish they would take a stand on how they feel about corn. I mean, corn-ish is kind of wishy-washy don’t you think?
I think I understand… just imagine this but in chicken suits! It’s really the only logical explanation.
OMG! I almost couldn’t stop watching.
Me neither…and then I snapped out of it and said, “This has to stop NOW!”
Yes, this is de facto virtually required at all Texas weddings.
By extension, any band wanting wedding gigs, has to be able to play some version of the song, too.
Yeah, used to do this at every.single.Rangers.game. Now, not so much, but they still do the Cotton-Eyed Joe.
Good times.
Yeah, having been a wedding singer for nigh on 13 years now, I quickly put a stop to participating in it. I’ll play it for those who insist, but I ain’t DOIN’ it…
Mr. Dude, sir, what do you CHARGE for a gig? I don’t think you would BOMB, you might even FUSE with one of the guests. Watch out for Auntie Leatherman, it’s rumored she has a FIRE IN THE HOLE condition.
Tell Auntie that they have a salve for that… Or a suppository, depending on the
localevariety of her condition…Reminds me of a song from my youth by Willie Sterba:
Chickens, chickens, in my hair
I’ve got chickens everywhere.
Some ‘r here and some ‘r there
Oh, chickens everywhere!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkGlB6rrEn4
There is a children’s book called Chickens to the Rescue which is a huge hit with preschoolers. Now the chickens are destructive enough but if they had been people in chicken costumes it would have been a much more disturbing story. Especially if these are needed for furries.
The book I keep thinking of is Daniel Pinkwater’s The Hoboken Chicken Emergency. Kid named Arthur, if I recall correctly, gets a chicken from a mad scientist-y guy that grows and grows to an immense size and eventually gets away and terrorizes the citizens of Hoboken, NJ.
I still think of that book every time I go through Hoboken (and keep an eye peeled for Fowl of Unusual Size, just in case).
I have to look up that book now, it sounds awesome!!
I remember the book a little differently – some holiday is coming up, and chicken hasn’t been bought, so the kid is sent out to buy one, but all the stores are sold out. He ends up with a giant (live) chicken.
It’s possible I’m confusing 2 different books here.
AR, I haven’t read it in close to 30 years. You may well be right and I am confusing it with something else. I think you’re right about the setup as to why the kid ends up with that particular chicken, but I’m also pretty sure that at some point, the giant, live chicken gets away (urban free range chicken, right here!).
According to Wiki (I finally realized I had to look it up), we’re both right.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoboken_chicken
Now I totally want to see the television show!
“Hoboken?! I’m dying again!”
Chickens on Parade, huzzah!
“What’s the matter Colonel Sanders…chicken?”
[OT query]
This was in my spam folder this morning:
What do you guys think? Is this truly spam? It’s more articulate than most spam but still feels… spamish.
[/q]
STORAGE NOT ON FIRE!
Other than that, I got nothin.’
I prefer my storage to be flammable. I might want to burn it down someday for the insurance money.
Yeah, I’ve gotten loads of that sort of spam — either that very question (if phrased differently) or spingbacks from splogs about how my blog’s layout is some kind of shining example for blogkind. Yay for barely-altered canned themes!
Keep in mind that every WordPress blog — unless you edit the footer.php to remove it — states that you’re running WordPress at the bottom, and probably which theme.
Also, if you know enough about web coding and CMSes to know how to set up and use Drupal, you don’t need to ask that question.
See? Another case of being wishy-washy. Take a stand for your SPAM!
Or was that taco-esque for Spanish? If so, then it deserves an entirely different response: No, it doesn’t feel Spanish to me. It didn’t even contain an eñya.
Okay, can we STOP posting spam in the comments here? They search for it, you know, and then try to post more when they think they’ve been successful!
I think they should have just put flammable storage. Is that permitted oh great Llamanun (BBUY)?
I think the most amusing thing is that this was posting to a blog entry I just put up that is literally about spam… the meat type.
I was unaware of their searching capabilities, llamanum. I’ll stop. Further questions/laugh worthy entries I’ll stick up on our new Facebook Group *shameless plug!*
It’s odd, I get spam on most of my blog posts except the one I did featuring actual spam I’ve recieved. It’s probably just a matter of time, though.
The other thing is that one of the things my spam filter looks for is whether any similar comments exist on the site.
Remember back when there were spambots that were just repeating existing comments but adding in links to their spambotty sites? Those were getting through because they were passing the “does this look like another post on the site” test.
If people keep posting spam comments, then my spam filter will think that those are acceptable comments!
Spam, spam, spam, spam…spam, spam, spam, spam.
What?
I like SPAM!
Fork over your email address and I’ll set up a rule on mine to forward all of my spam to you then.
*GASP* The Llama-nun (MBBUHF) had to ask twice! There will be a reckoning!
hehe…you said “reckoning.” That was old-timey.
😉
Sister Chicken oh the time has come….
And you know that you’re the only one to say.. BAAAWK!!!
I bought a used chicken suit once. I smelled really fowl.
Welcome to today’s installment of “Things Not to Buy Used.” We’ve previously discussed pantyhose, enema tables, and dentures. Today, our topic is chicken suits, and all other animal costumes. Do. Not. Buy. Used!!!
Or loan out..
“What’s that? You want to borrow my chicken costume to wear to your furries convention? Oh sure, why not? What’s the worst that could happen?”
I don’t know, but I suspect Taco could fill you in.
It’s two hen’s teeth and a cow costume or in metric it’s a liter of pudding.
Unless the pudding is on fire and then it’s….
*consults catulator*
Forty-two firm obos slathered with nacho cheese.
“Twenty bucks extra, same as in town.”
Is or is not the pudding, as it were, on fire?
After looking at the box today, I have to ask if Sister “The Musical” Lyle has any song and dance numbers in it. I would pay to see an owl and the number 5 dance. But then tis a boring life I lead.
Llamas and Gentledogs, this is Craigslist Number Five.
One, two, three, four, five, everybody’s in the lounge so come let’s dive
Into the online store around the corner.
The boys say they want armoires but I really don’t wanna.
Gutbust like I had last week.
I laugh real hard ’cause this stuff’s not cheap.
There’s like chicken, coffins, “antiques”, oh Sparky.
And as it continues, you know we’re getting snarky.
So what can I do? I really beg you llamanun.
To me snarking is just so much fun.
Anything there, Sparky should really dump it.
Please stop selling your trumpet.
A little bit of Mindfield in my life,
A little bit of EB by my side.
A little bit of Hammy’s all I need,
A little bit of Taco’s all I see.
A little bit of Lola in the sun,
A little bit of Windy all night long.
A little bit of Ghostie here I am,
A little bit of you makes me your friend!!!!!!!!
Craigslist Number five!
Laugh on and off and giggle at the fun.
Shake your head at the dumb, let your brain go all numb.
Take one post here and one post there.
One selling stairs and one for some bears.
Slap a seller once and slap that sparky twice
And if it sounds like this then you’re doing it right.
A little bit of CJ in my life,
A little bit of Monkey by my side.
A little bit of Grampdad’s all I need,
A little bit of Bianchi’s all I see.
A little bit of Mudsey in the sun,
A little bit of AR all night long.
A little bit of L-Squared here I am,
A little bit of you makes me your friend!!!!!!!!
Trumpet, not the trumpet…
Craigslist Number five, ha, ha, ha.
A little bit of IF in my life,
A couple Daves here by my side.
A little bit of Angel’s all I need,
A little bit of Lou is all I see.
A little LRC here in the sun,
A little bit of Camille all night long.
A little bit of Lyle (here I am)
A little Holy llama and the Dan!!!!!!!!
[Apologies if I’ve left out anyone that really wanted to be part of this song… there’s only so many spots for names!]
::dances in office chair::
Me too-office chair dance party!
Also, woohoo, I’m sung about! :-p
*notices name, does the deskside happy dance*
Woot!
OOh…I’m in the sun. It’s like Vitamin D glitter!!
8)
Gack! I didn’t add the Cap’n! I knew I forgot someone. Poop.
Derpin’ frackin derp… forgot the Lara, too! Fudge muffin on a pogostick. Sorry guys! Next name-related parody, I’ll make a list first.
I’m not that ode-worthy, generally; meter more than the rhyme (or rime, of late).
I can do the percussion…
A cannon would be a nice touch!
I could add some Euph. Not that you’d remember. **mock sadface**
Hmmmm a cannon canon . . .
(tho- I’ve wanted a canon cannon to fling a few psalms ballistically at the deserving)
Oh dear… are you going to need the Brasin Bleach vat for that?
How in the hell did I forget Astro?
That’s it, next time I’m not naming names for fear I’ll forget too many regulars!
Is that like a Brasin in the sun?
Too many Regulars. We need a bigger Facebook.
Someone has found my plan for world domination.
I promise… I didn’t tell. 8)
It was me…:-P
This would actually make a great Improv Everywhere assignment. Have people come into a mall or Grand Central from all directions dressed in chicken suits but acting like nothing was unusual and claiming to have no idea who the other chicken suit people are or why they are dressed that way.
Time for the punches! Mudsy and Sis, Punchity Punch Punch!
G’Night, El Pollo Loco!
Yeah. Like the song, not so sure about my part in it. I blame it on lentils.
Bianchi Sound: We need your goddess-ness on Facebook! Sir.
I thought EVERYONE knew that the going-rate for chicken suits was exactly the same as the price of tea in China. It’s just common knowledge.
Oh, good. I’m off to a bird mart in Pomona, CA, today, and all I can think about is chickens. Chicken chicken chicken!
Buy all the chickens!
*waves from the box*
I’m so lonely, I’d take a chicken suit.
It’s always so empty in the Lounge on the weekends, it’s like people have lives outside of the glowy box. What’s up with that?
Really?
Who has time for a life?
LL, your highway to the chicken world is going to make you rich! Punchity Punch Punch!
Good Morning, Ted Giannoulas!