Fried Chicken
Fried Chicken. I love fried chicken. My vanity hates fried chicken. Somewhere in this seemingly complex structure that I have called a brain, fried chicken creates a perfectly harmonious concoction of biochemical love and hate that zeros in on my pleasure sensors like pubescent boys to cheerleading uniforms.
Fried chicken is the epitome of guilty pleasure. Tastes SO good. Feels SO guilty. It led me to ponder, why is it that most everything on earth that feels or tastes fantastic, is undoubtedly bad for us? To name a few just from the letter "B": butter, bacon, Belgian chocolate, beer, bad boys a la James Bond, and bitchy girls a la Paris Hilton. Definitely good for the soul. Definitely bad for reality. I offer no solutions, but plant a seed of curiosity that perhaps will lead you to a personal answer.
Let’s talk about food first. If you were born in the middle of the rain forest, completely unaffected by what we know as society now, and your parents fed you creme de beetledung since birth and told you that it tastes good. Would you know the difference? Would your cerebral wirings convince you that creme de beetledung was "the shit" in culinary delights? Pardon the slang and pun, in that order.
Now let’s talk about bad boys and bad girls. You know the type. Those that make you activate your long lost 8th grade crush tingles or tie up your stomach in knots followed by temprary aphrasia. These people can make botany the most exciting date activity you’ve ever done. They drive you made with their brash or abrasive personalities. They ignore you, abuse you, douse your brain ina vat of their bad temper, and it only makes you want them more. It feels good to be angry at them. It feels good to love them.
Dangerous men and provocative women are stimulating and unpredictable. We’ve all been there before, and in fact, some of you may be there now. If you’ve been there, take a minute to reminisce the soulfulness of diving in without care. If you’re in it now, enjoy it while it lasts. Some theorize that you don’t cherish something easily gained. Therefore we aim to tame. Taming a tough personality produces an overwhelming sense of accomplishment the likes of summiting a mountain. Another likely theory is that going out with such a person is but a voyeuristic peek into a life otherwise lived.
The fact of the matter is that it is but another trial in life. Live it. We were meant to stir the emotional brew once in a while. Feel the anger. Feel the lust. Feel the guilt. Whatever truth is locked in the depths of our desires, we can only fully decode our souls by process of elimination. Try being a dangerous man or a provocative woman. If you don’t have the fortitude for the said experiment, you can always resort to the traditional large bucket of fried chicken.
