probabilityfields

Uuuuuuvvvvvuuuuullllllaaaaa, isn’t that nice to say? This morning I woke up and my uvula was resting on the back of my throat. Too much slack on the pendulum. When I sat up it swung forward and perched on the back of my tongue and I gagged. I got up and looked in the mirror, it was about five milimeters too long and four too wide and a few shades too red. Breathing was difficult and I didn’t eat until late this evening. Leftover chicken. The Cowboys lost.

Last night I was cooking two chicken leg quarters in a stainless steel frying pan. I stuffed a cilantro-parsley-cumin pesto under the skin, sat it atop some vegetables and put the pan in the oven at three-fifty for a couple of hours flipping the chicken over halfway then finishing it up with a broil to get the skin crispy.

I pulled the pan out and set it on the stove while I searched for a collander to drain the vegetables out to make a jus. When I found the collander I grabbed the pan by the handle and picked it up. It was three hundred and fifty degrees.

I held a frozen piece of meat until Tony told me that would only make it worse. I soaked my hand in water, but the pain was too much so I drank a bottle of wine with a vicodin and topped it off with one beer. I forgot about my hand, but when I woke up today my uvula was swollen.