Nuggets, 1st World Problems, and Bombs of a Certain Letter

Am I okay with eating purple chicken veins? Not exactly. I was glad not to get any mutated chicken nuggets in my 12 count today, but I have started slacking on my rigorous white meat inspection. Maybe it doesn’t take a college educated student to know that chicken meat isn’t blue, it isn’t purple, it isn’t shiny, and it isn’t stretchy, so if any of the above is found in a nugget, I don’t want to eat it please. Thank you. My pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure. Tonight I went back to Chick-fil-A to use another meal plan. I get $6.60 taken out of my paycheck and get credit for 6 meal plans worth approximately $8.00 each. I guess as soon as I realized I was a customer tonight, I quickly found it plausible to have a terrible attitude because I was hungry and tired, so before ordering I somehow managed to drop the F-bomb three times (and by three I mean five). Actually it is somewhat understandable if I delve into it. Jared, my brother, walked all the way from the car to the register before he realized he forgot his wallet, and my 1 meal plan couldn’t buy a full meal for us both, so I shared my meal plan, which may not seem like a big deal, but after a full day of work and class, I just want to eat my own effin meal!

After trying every combination to fit two spicy chicken sandwiches on the meal plan budget, the employee said, “You know what, don’t worry about it”, and swiped my card. And then I cussed a few more times until Jared brought heavy correction to make me thankful for what the cashier did. So then I cussed again and focused all my energy into plastering a well crafted look of depression on my face. Leaving, I went and found my black Explorer in the parking lot and yanked on the handle, and it was locked. I might have been frustrated or even angry, but it makes sense that the car was locked because it actually wasn’t my car. After reluctantly laughing, I ate my chicken sandwich and didn’t drink a sweet tea that I couldn’t fit on my meal plan and the spicy meat and pepper-jack cheese burned my throat the whole way home. I was content.