Thursday, February 7, 2013

Fried Chicken & Hot Dogs: a story about sex

This post is dedicated to one of my oldest and dearest friends. Amanda Proctor.

My sweet friend Amanda posted on Facebook about how she was finding herself drawn to fried chicken. Being a strict veggie, this seemed weird.

Let me tell you a little story...

I was a vegetarian in college.
It wasn't one of those radical 'I saw this animal cruelty video and now I can't ever eat another face" things.  It was more of a "hey? I wonder if I could go a whole day/week/month/year with out meat?" thing.  A personal challenge if you will.  And I would call myself a vegetarian.  Really only because it sounded much hipper than "I am broke and double dog dared myself to not eat meat so that I can save more money for all the PBR I plan to consume." Ah yes, Vegetarian.

Well this little charade went on for about two years, when I started having the strangest, reoccurring dreams.  Every night for weeks I was chased all night long buy a giant, human sized Hot Dog.  It wasn't as if the giant wiener was trying to attack or capture me.  It was a happy dog.  A happy dream.  Running through a giant lush field.  That steamy little link had his arms spread wide open as if to say that he loved me and had missed me so.

Like I said, this went on for a couple weeks.  The same thing. Over. And over.

Finally I couldn't take it any longer, and I called my mother.  I explained the sequence of Hot Dog fantasies that I had been having.  And before I could even finish explaining she interjected without a blip of hesitation.....

"Erin, You either need to EAT MEAT or GET LAID!"

As a side note, this was also that defining moment when my mother and I had crossed into being able to freely talk about sex without if being weird....Friend Zone.

While trying to roll my jaw back up to my face and fanning my increasingly reddened checks, I was trying to wrap my brain around what I was supposed to say about that.

She was right.  I had been a bit of a dry spell.  And I was starving...from malnutrition.  There was only one this to do.  A little bit of bar stool science, some deductive reasoning.  I took all that extra money I had saved up and PBR'ed myself into a situation that lead me to believe it wasn't the lack of sex.   I was still having the dreams and needed to eat meat.

Needless to say, I am back on the meat wagon.  And have been for quite some time.  I am actually hovering over a whole roasted chicken with a fork in hand as I type.

But back to Amanda and her cravings for Fried Chicken.  Go call your mom.  She'll have the answer.


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