The Best Chicken Jokes EVER

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?

SARAH PALIN: Before it got to the other side, I shot the chicken, cleaned and dressed it, and had chicken burgers for lunch.

BARACK OBAMA: The chicken crossed the road because it was time for a change! The chicken wanted change!

JOHN MC CAIN: My friends, that chicken crossed the road because he recognized the need to engage in cooperation and dialogue with all the chickens on the other side of the road.

HILLARY CLINTON: When I was First Lady, I personally helped that little chicken to cross the road. This experience makes me uniquely qualified to ensure right from Day One that every chicken in this country gets the chance it deserves to cross the road. But then, this really isn't about me.

GEORGE W. BUSH: We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road, or not. Thechicken is either against us, or for us. There is no middle ground here.

DICK CHENEY: Where's my gun?

COLIN POWELL: Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road.

BILL CLINTON: I did not cross the road with that chicken. What is your definition of chicken?

AL GORE: I invented the chicken.

JOHN KERRY: Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am
now against it! It was the wrong road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken's intentions. I am not for it now and will remain against it.

AL SHARPTON: Why are all the chickens white? We need some black chickens.

DR. PHIL: The problem we have here is that this chicken doesn't realize that he must first deal with the problem on this side of the road before it goes after the problem on the other side of the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by not taking on his current problems before adding new problems.

OPRAH: Well, I understand that the chicken is having problems, which is why he wants to cross this road so bad. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls, which is a part of life, I'm going to give this chicken a car so that he can just drive across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.

ANDERSON COOPER, CNN: We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed access to the other side of the road.

NANCY GRACE: That chicken crossed the road because he's guilty! You can see it in his eyes and the way he walks.

PAT BUCHANAN: To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American.

MARTHA STEWART: No one called me to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a standing order at the Farmer's Market to sell my eggs when the price dropped to a certain level. No little bird gave me any insider information.

DR SEUSS: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed I've not been told.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die in the rain, alone.

GRANDPA: In my day we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough.

BARBARA WALTERS: Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heart-warming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting, and went on to accomplish its lifelong dream of crossing the road.

ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

JOHN LENNON: Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads together, in peace.

BILL GATES: I have just released eChicken 2008, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook. Internet Explorer is an integral part of eChicken 2008. This new platform is much more stable and will never crash or need to be rebooted.

ALBERT EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken?

COLONEL SANDERS: Did I miss one?

Things That Cause me to Sweat EVERYWHERE

This morning I had a conference call with my three New York editors over at the Nickelodeon site as to what, exactly, I'll be doing for them over the next three weeks.

Talking with younger, hip women who make casual references to The Hills is intimidating enough.

Talking to them while trying to take notes - the sweats start to take over.

Talking to them while taking notes, trying to follow all three of their conversations, and their three visions for what I'll be doing ("This is a pilot project. So we want you to do X but not really do X - and make it lively and cool and make things up but be authentic and real, k?") is enough to cause me to sweat in very bad places.

Talking to them, understanding them, taking notes, trying not to sound like a total doofus and simultaneously trying to silently entertain my two year-old - I'm starting to reek.

Juggling all of the above then trying to swiftly evade my now shrieking two-year old by sprinting up the stairs with notes in hand and trying not to sound like a panting doofus - I may as well call it a day and start over.

People wonder why I am not always readily available by phone, and until you have crouched in a corner of a locked bathroom with a phone in one ear and your finger in your other while trying to write with your feet while your child pounds on the door - you won't get it.

Never let them see you sweat. Or hear you drop the telephone into a toilet.

When You're Done Celebrating Tonight...

I will be living, breathing, and doing little else but thinking of Thanksgiving for the next three weeks. Because I'm Martha incarnate and it takes at least fifteen days for the decoupage to dry and the marzipan likenesses of my family that adorn the pumpkin pie to be completed? Not really.

For the next three weeks (starting at the end of this week, thank goodness, because I will be watching my man Obama take the election tonight) I will be talking about all things Thanksgiving over at Nickelodeon's parenting website, Parents Connect. Come on over and grab a great recipe, share a horror story from Thanksgivings past, give some advice to new moms making their first turkey or just heckle the moderator...

See you guys there.

Quote for the Day

Whatever you give a woman, she's going to multiply.

If you give her a house, she'll give you a home.

If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal.

If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart.

She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.

So - if you give her crap, You will receive more shit than any one human being can handle....

Drama Dilemma

There is nothing like school-age drama. Nothing. Since the day my oldest started school I have witnessed the queen bees in training as they selected lucky recipients to sleep overs, or the coveted spots at the lunch table, or the order in which team members have been selected for recess teams. For the past decade or so I have felt thrust back into the schoolyard drama I thought was long behind me. Come to find out, when you have kids, you get the exquisite pleasure of reliving all of the good and bad stuff of childhood. Yippee.

With girls I always expected and have often witnessed cutthroat behavior. It's in the estrogen, right? My first two are girls - so I have had years of tears, joys, slumber party highs and lows and all the ensuing in-between.

But boys? Come on.

My oldest son is six and in first grade. Granted - he goes to a verry sheltered school that eschews media, television, computers and basically the outside world. There are some perks to this - kids retain their sense of magic longer. Of course, when you want to brag to the parents at playground duty that you're now writing for Nickelodeon, it's not nearly as satisfying when they look at you with a blank stare and then politely inquire who Nick O. Lodeon is. Sigh.

The other day one of the other first grade moms approached me and was concerned because she had heard - get this - that my son had brought a knife to school, had threatened to stab himself, and had been sent to the Principal's office. Um. None of that happened. As it turns out, Jacob and some other six year-old boys had been huddled around the tractor tire on the playground and were working themselves up in what I would consider to be "typical" boy behavior and decided they wanted to talk about dangerous things, to include knives. Dangerous things have always fascinated Jacob since we have a pretty strict policy on what they watch, what they can play with (laser guns, yes - semi-automatic pistols not so much) and how they interact. But trust me - you can hate the NRA all you want but your son will still take his peanut butter sandwich and form it into the shape of a handgun and attempt to kill you with it. This is what they are hardwired to do.

But this mom, a sweet and wonderful person, has just one child - her daughter, and has been able to live a life very different from the chaos that is my home. So she was understandably concerned that my son was the next up and coming serial killer. I sat in my minivan and assured her that my son, a gentle and kind soul, would never do anything of the sort.

In the meantime? The dual-screened televisions in the second row of my car were blaring the distinct lasered sounds of a light sabre fight from the Star Wars DVD and the plastic Disneyland sword my toddler took in to the restaurant the other day? In plain view of this woman just as I uttered the phrase, "I don't even let the boys play with knives."

Swords aren't knives, right?

Now I feel like I have to encourage this soft, fluffy kitten and rainbows side of Jacob whenever we approach the playground in the morning.

"Here's your backpack, son. Oh, forgot your lunchbox? Or did you just donate it to another homeless man again while you were busy saving that robin that fell out of its nest? Give me a kiss and tell me how much you love Jesus."

I need a nap. How about you? Any tale-worthy drama with your kids? If not - how are you avoiding it?

And She Emerges from her Silence...

Well.

I knew I was ready to poke my big toe back into the pool of blogging after a particularly hellish day last week that began with my toddler sneaking a sword (plastic, from Disneyland, but still foolish for me to let him carry it in public) into a restaurant at a breakfast meeting and impailing innocent diners and ended in me calling my oldest daughter a sociopath.

It was then when I knew I needed this like a junkie needs a fix was ready to come back. So to my two and a half readers left - I'm baaack!

When your family encounters a crisis like we did this summer, priorities seem to crystalize, and suddenly time spent away from my family clacking away on the computer just wasn't making the list. I really needed to get away. I can report that although my brother-in-law is still paralyzed, he makes progress every day and is able to live and work from home and be with his wife and boys. And of course, the passage of time, the healing of sadness and the re-adjustments we've all made have enabled me to resume a lot of things put on hold.

Some of you may know that I'm working on a book on blogging with some talented ladies. It's an amazing project and while I can say that as the co-editor I have a lot of work ahead of me - the bulk of the talent is coming from our contributors. If you have an amazing story to share relating to how blogging has changed your life, or if you want to point me in the direction of an incredible blog written by a mom I may not know about (and I haven't been reading a lot of blogs lately) please send me a note! Maybe you or someone you enjoy reading will be in bookstores near you next year!

I'm glad to be back swimming again with all of you.

Splash!

Like a Vacation, Only Without the Gin and Blackouts

I've been on a bit of a self-imposed sabbatical from blogging. My plans are to resume things...but maybe a little differently.

I dunno - life, work, other writing jobs...doing the big thinking thing and wondering where blogging fits in and why...and who, exactly, I'm writing for. Do I spend the blogging time watching Oprah and giving myself facials doing other productive ventures that are suffering due to a crazy schedule? Because anyone who reads and/or writes a blog knows what a time sucking vortex it can be.

So...gathering my thoughts (at least one has solidified and that is that I am just too damn old for Twitter. Count me out. No one cares that I am carpooling and on my sixth Diet Coke of the day) and will be regrouping soon.

One thing will remain constant, and that is my need for an outlet to mock my children and vent about my marriage partner all in an effort to feel like I'm part of a team. A team of people who enjoy drinking, manic exercise, bad puns, and the smell of Clorox on a clean toilet seat.

Watch Out! His Wife Can Give You 'Roids!

File this one under "I read this on the news and suddenly I despair for the plight of human beings who will sue/be aggressive and mean at the drop of a hat" or, just file it under "dumb."

Apparently this man:

You know, Joel Osteen from the Live Your Best Life phenomenon? The Texas preacher who has changed the lives of a lot (I say a lot because I don't know - thousands? millions?) of people has a wife with a bit of a pretty princess complex.

Here's the Pretty Princess with her prince:

And here is the flight attendant who says that Pretty Princess elbowed her in the breast and basically gave her the smackdown, because there was a stain on Pretty Princess's first class seat. A...a...stain? On public transportation? Especially over-priced transportation that serves to make rich people feel like they're getting something better First Class?

My favorite part of the AP news article? In the lawsuit, the flight attendant claims that as a result of the incident, which granted - must have been a pain in the ass to endure, was literally a pain in the ass for her to endure. She is suing because she says the resultant stress has given her anxiety and....HEMORRHOIDS.

Haven't we all been there at one time or another? The kids are yelling and giving us a headache and we sit down to just catch a moment and wham! out pops another hemorrhoid.

I totally hate that.

Wedgies, Man Parts, And Uh, Other Weird Stuff.

Yesterday while on the phone with my cousin, I could hear her two kids shrieking like banshees because they share my DNA and are thus a little crazy boisterously playing. We both ignored the background sounds until a lull in the conversation allowed me to hear this exchange between my cousin's five year old daughter (I call her my niece) and her two year old son (again, my nephew)...

"Mooom! Ewwww! Ryan just put his penis on me!"

To which my cousin just dryly commented, "Yeah. Ryan's kind of going through a naked phase. It helps with the potty training, but his man junk is everywhere. Anyway, where were we?"

So, you looking to keep your kid (or someone else's. Heh) man junk in its proper place? The good people at Hanes were kind enough to send me a box of manna from heaven and one less trip to Target their awesome underwear and socks for girls and boys.

Want to read about man junk coverage? Okay - how about Hanes...yeah. Whatever...just go over here for more.....

Wordless Wednesday: Being Chosen from the Crowd to Train as a Jedi Knight = Nirvana for Six Year Old Boy

Sweet Lord...We Have some Winners

I went over to random.org to generate the two winners of the prize and I'll be contacting lady_msnow and Jenn at Juggling Life for the two main prizes.

Here are the people who won a consolation card with a packet of chocolate face mask.....look for an email!

Michelle (commenter #9)
Reeva (#21)
Lisa (stormy5475)
Robin_Titan
Angie (quilly silly)
Estelle (commenter #63)
The Green Yak
Kyra
Pierce
Maypole :)

I'll track you all down, but if you read this first, send me your address and full name to the email on the profile!

As for me, I will be packing my girls up today and getting them ready for a two week vacation to visit family....without me or Bob. What was I thinking?

Have a great weekend everyone and thanks for playing!

Jumping in to the Big Bloggy Giveaway! Yay! Free Stuff!

Okay everybody - there is a huge Blog Carnival going on and if you want to win a buttload of awesome prizes, go on and waste some work time pour through all of the great prizes you can win this week.

Here is where you go. But wait! You can win something here, too! Today through Friday if you leave a comment at this post, you will have a chance to win....

1. Two winners will each win skin care products from the Wrinklerexic Suggests files, guaranteed to lift your spirits and maybe even your skin! See, I told you if you left a comment your skin would be taut and poreless! I'll be putting over $50.00 worth of skin care in this adorable bag here:

Brought to you by the good people at Payless Shoes, who will be mailing the bag to each winner. If you want your own, you can always head over to Payless Shoes and get one with a $25.00 purchase for only an additional $5.00...or you can enter and get it here! With lotions and pretty girly stuff to put inside!

Have fun! Good luck!

*****Edited to add: Ten readers who don't win will still get a consolation card from Get in the Car! to include a sample pack of Muddy H2O's fabulous chocolate face mask....visit their site for retail locations where you can buy their organic, luscious products - totally used and approved by yours truly.*****

How Long Before You're Driven the the Brink?

What's the longest distance you've ever driven with your family? How did you while about the hours/days and arrive at your destination in one piece?

As a former Air Force family, we are used to the punishing drive. When Jacob was four weeks old we took a leisurely drive from Oregon to Georgia so that Bob could report to his new job at Robins Air Force Base. Our girls were entertained with movies and frequent stops and stays along the way and only bickered once or twice an hour, as compared with the every 14 seconds rate they currently have going. Jacob was in the barracuda stages of nursing, so each state we visited was punctuated for me based on where my nipples were. North Dakota will always have a special place in my heart, because that was the first time I nursed Jacob without needing to clench my jaw in pain and pray to the mother of Jesus for the kid to never get teeth.

On a particularly long, arid stretch through Montana Chloe had to go the the bathroom. Why I haven't just invented the traveling catheter for children is beyond me, but even with our strict limitation of beverages while traveling, the children always have to potty eventually. But when you're in the middle of Montana, there may be 6,243 miles before the next rest stop, unless you count the pasture filled with bison. When we finally found an exit with facilities, we found ourselves parking next to hundreds of Harleys in front of a bar that said "No Minors and no Assholes Allowed." Jen's traveling tip # 7: When you're the whitest family in America, and you think it's fun to travel in matching Old Navy patriotic t-shirts - don't expect to walk into a biker bar without rendering the entire place silent. As it happens, we had pulled off to the only place with facilities, and it was also knee-deep in the Annual Testicle Festival.

I also remember Kentucky as the first state where I ever ate catfish and the first state where I lost my Cracker Barrel virginity. I had never even heard of Cracker Barrel, and then just like that I was loving gravy and Old Yankee candles.

So you how about you, mom reader? What's the longest road trip you've taken? Any tips that don't involve alcohol? (those can just be emailed to me, k?)

Dirty Talk: Now With Extra Cupholders

For years I was one of those women who proudly (and loudly) stated that she would never in a million years own a minivan.

A minivan? Horrors! As a younger mom whenever I thought of the offending vehicle, I pictured this:

I held on to my little Saab until Jacob was born, at which point I succumbed to the inevitable lineup of SUVs...until Al Gore came along and guilted me into squeezing me and my four kids into an ancient Volvo sedan.

Let me tell you - when you have more than two kids, you need that extra row. I have no buffer row and now when Jack is mad (read: always) and throws his sippy cup/ball/hot wheels car it hits my head. While driving. This is not fun, and has forced me to daydream a little more than is considered healthy about running away to that shrimp shack I keep threatening to open.

So last night, when Bob was making the moves, he knew exactly how to seduce me. He mentioned this:

Then he whispered that he wanted me inside of this:

And just like that, I was his.

The View From Here

I cannot bring myself to watch The View. The combination of Whoopi's superior air, Elisabeth's whiny Republican blather, Babwa's speech impediment, and Sherri's diarrhea of the mouth ("I've had too many abortions to count") don't compel me to tune in to the funny musings of Joy Behar (I've always loved her as a comic). Can't. Pull. The. Trigger.

Of course I do catch snippets of The View when they make the news. Who hasn't seen angry pinch-mouthed Rosie and Elisabeth go for each other's throats? And recently? The whole 'N' word furor? Oy.

I'm such a WASP that I should have a stinger coming out of my butt, and even I can see where Whoopi and Sherri were coming from when they said blacks and whites live in separate worlds still, and that blacks can use the word if they want to take it back from the white man's original intent. Elisabeth nearly burst a pipe sobbing that we do all live in the same world and that gosh darn it why is it so necessary to say such a horrible yucky word? Whyyyyyy? Whaaaa.

A few years ago I wrote and sold my first piece to a feminist magazine called Bitch. Whooo boy did the inlaws have a hard time understanding that one. Why on earth would I read, much less write for a magazine that had such a naughty word printed in such large, bold font on its cover? I did the same thing then that Whoopi tried to do with Ms. Republican Convention - I told her bitch was a word that feminists wanted to take BACK from the misogynist vernacular. In other words, if my best friend wants to affectionately/jokingly call me a bitch - who the hell cares. If some man, on the other hand, calls me a bitch I'm going to be integrating his balls into a Rachel Ray 30 minute meal.

So Whoopi, Sherri - y'all irritate the coffee right out of my bowels - but I totally get what you're saying. Elisabeth just needs to go needlepoint a John McCain pillow and make sure her highlights are extra blonde for the upcoming election coverage.

Try and Find the Guest Blog

Hi all. Today I guest blogged for a friend. Due to its content, I won't be linking over to her blog, but if you're interested, and you know who Sunshine is, go on over and have a read.

And There's Also No Santa. Or Tooth Fairy.

Jack was in the backseat of the car watching an old Sesame Street movie, the one where Big Bird gets lost. It was either that or his non-stop incessant shrieking that would render the nearest canine deaf until we got home from the doctor's office. Maddie, agahst that Sesame Street has been around since I was a kid, quizzed me non-stop on which characters I liked. Finally, she got around to Big Bird.

"Did you like Big Bird?"

"No, I told you. I pretty much only liked Grover and Kermit. The journalist and the smart nerd - you can't go wrong."

"What about Big Bird's friend? That elephant?"

"You mean Snuffleuppagus," called Chloe from the backseat.

Under my breath I muttered, "You mean Big Bird's lover." Oops. I may have said that aloud.

I turned, horrified, to see that Maddie had heard me. And worse, she burst into loud guffaws of laughter.

I hate it when I have to back pedal before noon.

"Mom! Big Bird wasn't gay!"

"There's nothing wrong with that. We have no idea what Big Bird's sexual orientation is. And for the record, that's not why he bugs me. He's an arrogant bird who barely hides his contempt for slow learners. Haven't you heard the way he talks down to Baby Bear?"

Just another good wholesome conversation while stuck in construction traffic.

Good Summer Chicken Salad

Shred the chicken from one roasted chicken (I grab a pre-cooked one at the deli to save time and keep my kitchen cool)

Dice one avocado

Blanch one (or two if you wish) ear white corn, cut kernels off.

Chop one quarter to one half of a red onion

Chop a generous handful of cilantro

Cut a pint of grape tomatoes in half

In bowl, whisk together the juice of a large lime, two tablespoons olive oil, and a half capful-ish of Chipotle chile powder

Mix all ingredients, drizzle chipotle dressing and stir. Serve over crushed tortilla chips (I like the lime ones) and have a cold margarita ready.

Enjoy! This takes no time at all if you buy the chicken and it feeds a crowd. If you want more heat, dice a jalapeno in there - yum!

You Say Anal, I Say Just Cut Me Some Slack

I've been squeezing in some half days at work this summer in addition to my weekend schedule and it's been nice to have the extra adult time and income. We've basically cancelled most of our pre-existing plans for the summer so we can be close to home and available to travel to see Bob's brother, and working is something I can do to help offset some of the travel expenses. There are a lot of upsides to this arrangement, and my girls have benefitted from this, too.

While I'm at work, they have jobs at home, work to complete (the dreaded summer curriculum I come up with as I panic that their brains are leaking out of their heads with each episode of Hannah Montana they watch while consuming god knows how much food coloring and preservatives), and babysitting of their younger brothers to help with. Of course I pay them, and the big reward is an airplane trip out to stay with cousins in Minnesota next month.

My girlfriend, Kristi, came by the house a couple of days ago to drop off the hamster we will be trying not to kill babysitting for the next two weeks. I wasn't home, and Bob had already come home and taken the kids. So it was natural, when she saw the typed letter on the counter addressed to my husband, that she would read it. And then later mock me. And then mock my husband. What else is a good friend going to do with the following?

Bob:

Please leave the house no later than 3:30 for the club. The girls have swim team in the outdoor pool from 4:00 – 5:30 and Jacob has swim lessons in the indoor pool from 4:30 to 5:00.

I have packed a brown bag with a protein snack for the kids at the pool. Each child can have half a piece of cheese toast and some apple. If you want to let them buy something additional after they have eaten the healthy snack, feel free. DO NOT FORGET TO PUT THE SNACK SACK IN THE POOL BAG. It is in the ‘fridge labeled “pool snack.”

When you get home Jack needs to wake up, pronto. The kids should have their summer bridgework looked over for quality and completion. Maddie should have completed six pages in her book (two for each subject tab), Chloe should have done her three pages plus instructed Jacob on his short “u” page, the money page, the letter “g” sound and the work page covering relative size.

Maddie should have started reading her book for her oral book report next week. She should show you the book and tell you how many pages she read.

I will come home with dinner, movies, and a treat. The movies and treat are contingent upon successful completion of their jobs and NO BICKERING, HARM or FOUL PLAY. You should call me at work immediately if they did this, and in that case I will only bring home dinner.

There is a cold soda in the snack bag for you to drink at the pool – we are short on food and I will pick groceries up before I come home.

LASTLY: THERE IS NO MORE SUNSCREEN. Please buy some at the store before the girls get in the outdoor pool – they will burn up (as will Jack) if they are not protected.

Thank you.

Your wife,

Jennifer

A Good Read

I just read the best post today over at my pal Rima's place. If anything, the title alone will grab you. As for me, today I've got nothing. I feel like a lot of things are coming to a head and catching up with me and I need to just be as quiet as I can today. Just be. Always a challenge with four "bored" children home. Enjoy the read (and her blog if you haven't ventured over there before).