Saturday Night and the Double Down

I never really blog anymore, do I? It’s usually a brief sentence or two followed by the obligatory bad-lighting picture of whatever the heck it is. Whatever happened to my old blogtime posts of yore (now forgotten to the ages) that were full of thoughts and feelings and emotions and Bon Jovi lyrics?

I feel like I was probably in a much better emotional place before I had my weight-loss problem back in college. At least more in touch with that kind of thing. When I starved myself, I found ways to block out hunger and a bunch of other stuff that I really shouldn’t have been blocking out, and I really haven’t regained the capacity for several of those things. Now that I’m hovering around 220, I’m 60 pounds heavier than my lightest weight. BMI tells me that I am overweight, but I feel that I’m in the best physical shape of my life. This has not helped my problems with self-expression.

I’ve harbored a belief for several years now that blogging about personal issues is amateur, and a quick ticket to Nobody-Caresville. However, this is my blog so I blogged about my blahs. Deal with it; it’s not likely to happen again for a few years anyway.

On other notes, I’m sure you’ve all heard of Kentucky Fried Chicken’s new “sandwich,” the Double Down. It’s bacon, cheese, and some sort of dressing, sandwiched between two chicken fillets. It sounds absolutely horrid, and there is no way that I would ever try this thing. It’s not even a health issue that causes me to recoil; it’s surely no worse than a two-piece chicken meal, so whatever. I just can’t stomach mayo and salad dressings. Blargh.

Still, the constant stream of advertising and blog chatter about the Double Down got my stomach rumbling for some fried chicken. And not just any fried chicken, but particularly the Colonel’s original recipe. My fiance and I had a debate about dinner last night after I expressed interest in KFC. First she tried to convince me that any fast food restaurant would have chicken tenders (SO not the same). Then she pooh-poohed my distant second choice of Popeye’s. Finally we agreed that I’d get take-out somewhere else for her while I enjoy my chicken.

So bravo, KFC. While your sandwich seems disgusting, your marketing was in-your-face enough to get me salivating, and I subsequently entered KFC for the first time in at least eight years. You win.

By the way, every one of the ten people in front of me ordered at least one Double Down “sandwich,” so I guess this is a thing.

And how’s this for a Saturday night: I took some time off from a Dr. Who marathon to bake cupcakes for tomorrow’s Dungeons & Dragons game; while I was waiting for the cupcakes to bake, I read several comic books. Just an ordinary Saturday night for a 25-year-old, am I right?

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5 Responses to “Saturday Night and the Double Down”

  1. That last paragraph is full of win.

  2. Hey- I like your blog! It’s funny and makes me want to bake more from Dorie’s book. What kind of baking equipment did you start out buying when you first began baking? I find I just never have the right stuff and I inevitably screw up my project:( Any essentials that you would recommend?

  3. I haven’t been blogging long but I think that you can get into a blogging funk and not really care to share… at least I do, but then again I’m quite the antisocial hermit so I guess sharing isn’t really my forte most days anyway.

    DoubleDown…. I think that is just a case of a really good name. I almost found myself turning into a KFC on the way home last week, all the chatter has given me fried chicken brain too.

  4. Your blog rocks, even if you don’t visit my blog much , I won’t hold it against you..:))).. Im glad you enjoyed the biscuits..they are darling shaped like cresent moons!
    Keep rockin and keep bloggin!

  5. Rebecca Says:

    “And how’s this for a Saturday night: I took some time off from a Dr. Who marathon to bake cupcakes for tomorrow’s Dungeons & Dragons game; while I was waiting for the cupcakes to bake, I read several comic books. Just an ordinary Saturday night for a 25-year-old, am I right?”

    Of course. =P Last Saturday saw my 21 year old husband playing Guitar Hero here with a friend while I (22) read from our newest stack of sci-fi books. We then watched the new Dr. Who episodes while we baked peanut butter cookies (love being able to see the tv from the kitchen). The cookies were not, however, for the Munchkins group that was coming over on Monday. I don’t share my cookies well.

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