Was it the chicken?
I had the day off work yesterday, making a 4-day weekend. Cool, eh? Not exactly. I was, to be delicate, a little unwell. Crook as all hell, to be slightly more accurate.
I got up at 5:30 for my daily torture session, but started feeling a bit queazy while I was warming up. After I had to run outside and dry-wretch for 10 minutes,I figured it was time to call it a day. I sat and watched the rest of the session, stretching. As I drove home, my guts started to complain a bit. When I arrived I noticed the Girlie hadn't left for work yet. In fact, She too was bung in the guts.
We put it down to 2 possibilities: last night's chicken, or Saturday nights meal. The chicken had cooked in the crock-pot for several hours, and had not a trace of pinkiness, plus the beasts happily chowed it down. (This doesn't say much, as Pheobe eats her own, and others, poo, and the Baz is a well-known chicken fiend.) The other possibility was the main course we each had at dinner on Saturday.
We were out to dinner to celebrate the Girlie's friend (and by extension, my friend) Vicki's birthday. It wasn't all that joyous an occcasion though, as Vicki's Father was laid up in hospital in Dunedin with and enflamed appendix. So, with that in mind, and a fairly graphics decription of bowels and stuff, by Harry (Vicki's doctor husband), we went off to dinner. We also brought along Vicki and Harry's neighbour, Helen.
We arrived at the resturant to find Harry's sister and partner, His brother and partner, and His Mother. (Vicki's family were all in Dunedin). By a staggering coincidence, Harry's parents own the apartment that Helen lives in. I've never gone out to dinner with my landlord, so I thought it a bit strange, but no-one else seemed to mind. (I've wanted to poison a few landlords though...)
The meal was nice enough. We skipped starters (except for ciabatta and some yummy macadamia butter) and went straight for the mains. The Girlie and I had the same dish, a scotch fillet. (Possible source of our crook-ness?). As desert came around, Harry's sister and parnter said they would be sharing a tart. (I presumed this was the desert...) His brother and partner wanted a tart each. I found it difficult to keep my mouth shut. The Girlie and I shared a desert platter. I didn't have any of the tart.
Aside from the meal, the only other thing the Girlie and I both ate was the chicken, which was strenously cooked in the crockpot. This was a bit of an effort, as She had to call her sister for instructions. I think She also looked on the net... Eventually we had what seemed to be well-cooked and yummy chicken.
I got up at 5:30 for my daily torture session, but started feeling a bit queazy while I was warming up. After I had to run outside and dry-wretch for 10 minutes,I figured it was time to call it a day. I sat and watched the rest of the session, stretching. As I drove home, my guts started to complain a bit. When I arrived I noticed the Girlie hadn't left for work yet. In fact, She too was bung in the guts.
We put it down to 2 possibilities: last night's chicken, or Saturday nights meal. The chicken had cooked in the crock-pot for several hours, and had not a trace of pinkiness, plus the beasts happily chowed it down. (This doesn't say much, as Pheobe eats her own, and others, poo, and the Baz is a well-known chicken fiend.) The other possibility was the main course we each had at dinner on Saturday.
We were out to dinner to celebrate the Girlie's friend (and by extension, my friend) Vicki's birthday. It wasn't all that joyous an occcasion though, as Vicki's Father was laid up in hospital in Dunedin with and enflamed appendix. So, with that in mind, and a fairly graphics decription of bowels and stuff, by Harry (Vicki's doctor husband), we went off to dinner. We also brought along Vicki and Harry's neighbour, Helen.
We arrived at the resturant to find Harry's sister and partner, His brother and partner, and His Mother. (Vicki's family were all in Dunedin). By a staggering coincidence, Harry's parents own the apartment that Helen lives in. I've never gone out to dinner with my landlord, so I thought it a bit strange, but no-one else seemed to mind. (I've wanted to poison a few landlords though...)
The meal was nice enough. We skipped starters (except for ciabatta and some yummy macadamia butter) and went straight for the mains. The Girlie and I had the same dish, a scotch fillet. (Possible source of our crook-ness?). As desert came around, Harry's sister and parnter said they would be sharing a tart. (I presumed this was the desert...) His brother and partner wanted a tart each. I found it difficult to keep my mouth shut. The Girlie and I shared a desert platter. I didn't have any of the tart.
Aside from the meal, the only other thing the Girlie and I both ate was the chicken, which was strenously cooked in the crockpot. This was a bit of an effort, as She had to call her sister for instructions. I think She also looked on the net... Eventually we had what seemed to be well-cooked and yummy chicken.
posted by Mike A at 8:46 AM
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