५ मे, २०१६
“It tastes like chicken. It’s crazy. I don’t know how they do it."
"'Yes, it is actually a real thing,' said Anna Mugglestone, marketing and communications director for Ogilvy & Mather Group in Hong Kong, the agency running the campaign."
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I'll just wait for Laslo...
Now that the primary is over, I just got this email from Ann Romney...
On Saturday, May 21st I am joining Maria Shriver, Equinox Sports Clubs, and supporters across the country for a one of a kind experience to raise awareness and funds to research women’s brains.
Binders full of them!
Move for Minds will bring together men and women in six cities -- Boston, New York City, DC, Los Angeles, Orange County and San Francisco -- to use our brains and bodies to further our own health and the health of others. We'll participate in a yoga class, “The Cut” boxing class, and a guided meditation session, then meet with some of the superstars of brain research to talk fitness, food, nutrition, meditation, caregiving and all things about keeping our brains healthy.
Oh man, I saw that same advert this morning. At first I thought KFC will sue them, and then - oh my God - that's really a millennial idea isn't it?
By the way, the hands are the dirtiest part of your body. Everything else that is dirty is usually covered, but the hands are your own worst enemy.
When I open a door, I use my little pinky-finger and then rub it on my clothes. Never will my tongue come near my hand, or someone elses hand.
Food for thought.
High heels, thong underpants, and now chicken flavored fingernail polish.
It's a war on women, but the enemy is in the mirror.
"When you come home you can eat pork and beans
I eats mo' chicken, any man seen."
So now when a gal picks her polish she'll have to specify Original Recipe or Extra Crispy.
I didn't know that girls/women in Hong Kong are so concerned about their weight.
Do you know why mongooses love chicken?
Tastes like snake.
You don't want it tasting like fish.
I tried frog legs one time. It tasted like chicken that'd been living in a swamp.
Oui!
She should change her name to Anna Muddlepate.
As a scout I went frog giggin' with some members of my troop (scouts, not baboons, in spite of the noise we made and our manners.)
"Why?" I asked.
"'Cuz it's fun." they replied.
"Wading through a bog in the dead of night is about as fun as singing Kum-bai-ya, which I hate." said I.
"Just wait till we grill the legs over an open fire," they said.
So I did. Revolting.
So good, you'll eat your fingers.
Only in America! Or Hong Kong.
"A Chicken Flavored Fingernail in Every Pot."
"Make America Chicken-Flavored Again."
I remember being led in the "Watermelon Cheer" at the BIG CAMPFIRE at the Scout Jamboree. The counselor who conducted the cheering explained the Watermelon Cheer to us in detail. (There's something inherently nuts about explaining a cheer. To be authentic a cheer needs a high degree of spontaneity.) You cup your hands in front of you as if you're cradling a big wedge of melon. Then you pretend to hoover up the luscious flesh from left to right in one pass. Then you pretend to expectorate the seeds in the most disgusting manner imaginable — a huge slurping sound followed a ginormous loose-lipped raspberry delivered with all the gusto 12-year-old boys can summon. Some cheer. Being a scout was occasionally like being an inmate of a group home for cretins.
You can tell it's out-of-country.
Because Americans know KFC is awful these past 30 or 40 years.
Popeyes or nothing.
I never met a carpenter that didn't think nail polish is a total waste of time.
Who licks their fingernails? Serious question.
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