All weekend one thought has plagued me. It wasn't how I lost Kaelyn's college fund betting on the Soap Box Derby. Why did I let it ride on the kid on HGH? Seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I'll have to wait for some visionaries to build a nearby casino so I can recoup my losses.
It wasn't David Beckham's gorgeous free kick that put England through to the final eight. I still suspect that, when the movie came out bearing his name, Becks went around asking people, "have you seen 'Bend it like me?'" And his wife would add, "I really, really, really wanna zigagig ha."
And it wasn't how I could've missed the local Pearl Jam concert. When our family went on vacation back in 1993, I grabbed my walk-man for the trip but neglected to bring my case of awesome music along. That left me an entire week to listen to nothing but whatever cassette was in the player. And that, my friends, was Pearl Jam's Ten. By the time we got back, I had that album memorized. Clearly I remember . . . picking on the boy.
No, the question that has kept me up the past few nights is, "What the **** is a huckin' chicken?"
That new Burger King commercial has been driving me crazy. Not the concept of a man in a chicken suit is riding a motorcycle, but what "huckin'" means. All I know is that if I sung that jingle around the house when I was growing up, Mom would've washed my mouth out with soap. On the westside, "huckin'" wasn't followed by "chicken" but by "nuts."
But it took me a mere trip to the land of Google to discover that "huckin'" is a motocross term having to do with "the type of rider that likes to do drops off large things such as: cliffs, roofs, ramps." So apparently this chicken is adventurous and "huckin'" is an insider term to let us know. I thought it was just an effort to make elderly people cuss.
Now we're all the wiser and I can finally get some sleep. But I'm still going to Popeye's when I need some chicken. I don't care how talented that bird is.