We'll just call her Jemima

Have you ever gone to the store and bought some frozen chicken, only to bring it home and find that you've bought a whole chicken-- with all its parts and everything?

I'll answer that for you: no. You haven't.

I've never been squeamish about meat before, but there's something about finding a little head tucked under a little wing, feet with claws, skin, and probably even fingerprints.

I was going to throw the beastie into the crock pot, but I'm not sure how I'll feel once I find the head and feet all cooked and brown. Would it be better to decapitate the thing now? Ugh! I wish Kevin were home.

I might stick to chicken nuggets from now on.