Thursday, 29 December 2011

Let's Get Chickenlust

Merry Christmas to you all, my lovely otterminions, and a Happy New Year!

As we all know, New Year is a time for many things. It is a time for loving and sharing and caring and giving, but mostly it is a reason to drink a lot and make promises to yourself that you don't really intend to keep (naturally, this makes it one of my favourite occasions). Since I've been on holiday, I have missed my colleagues a lot. We spend so much time together on a daily basis that they feel like my extended family (also possibly because some of them feed me like a mother hen tending to one runty chick and in my simple book, food = love) and the shock of spending my mornings alone with my PS3 has caused me to reminisce more than I normally would.

There were a couple of different moments during the past month which I'd like to talk about here, because they amused me greatly. The first took me quite by surprise, one cold Wednesday morning.

Colleague: Do you have a moment?

Me: Sure, what's up?

Colleague: I can't find my Blu Tack.

Me: Um...

Colleague: On my phone.

Me: Your what?

Colleague: My Blu Tack.

Me: Do you mean your Bluetooth?

Colleague: Yes, that.

I honestly couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. Keeping a straight face was incredibly difficult and required a superhuman amount of precision and willpower, so I gave up and simply laughed hysterically at her for ten minutes or so. Which leads me to to the next anecdote, featuring the unfortunate but delicious power of Chickenlust. Please let me explain, before you begin to edge away, that this has nothing to do with a lust for live chickens. Stop edging! You were edging!

The Chickenlust is something that happens to me once I have reached a particular stage of drunknness. Now, those of you who know me well (and since I write about my life here, I assume that's pretty much all of you - with the possible exception of my parents who managed to buy me something I am allergic to for Christmas, bless their hearts) will know that once I hit drinks 6 through 8 I start to think about chicken. Any meat will suffice, really, but for some reason chicken will be the main focus of my obsession. I will talk incessantly about chicken, make every effort to obtain some chicken - often through elaborate plans better suited to an episode of Pinky and the Brain. My desire for chicken at this point is so strong that Laura Dern could walk through the room naked and I probably wouldn't notice unless she was covered in grilled fillets. My friends have learned to anticipate and dread the Chickenlust with all the nervousness of watching a grenade bounce into the room and roll under a couch.

Me: So, in essence, that is the Chickenlust. I don't even really remember it, but apparently it happens a lot.

Colleague: Interesting. But tell me, have you ever eaten an Easter Egg while in the bath?

Me: Um... I can't say that I have.


Me: Ooh! Challenge accepted.

I'm making a note of this now and in a few months, if I remember, I will carry out the above experiment and report back. New Years' Resolution 1 - Do More Science. It's for the good of all of us, except the ones who are dead.


  1. Now singing 'Let's get chickenlust' to the tune of Olivia Newton-John's 'Physical'. Meanwhile, in the video, chickens in sweatbands and legwarmers limber up... etc etc etc.

  2. That is exactly what and how I've been singing that title to myself for the past day! Although your visual imagery has upped it to a more amusing idea (sort of like the Call On Me video as well, yes?) Well played, good sir!