Edamame is right. Northwest DC is no place to raise our Silky Japanese chickens (sjc). They do not ‘rough it’ so to speak as they are a comparable breed to that of the maltese—sassy, self-indulgent, and the epitome of sophistication. (By the way, I used to say epitome like epi–tome…rhymes with rome…until someone informed me that this was the incorrect pronunciation about a year ago.) Plus the security system that would host them, which I presume would be similar to that of an electronic fence, would be way out of our budgetary means. I couldn’t live knowing there were crazy liberals running around DC trying to free Darfur AND the chickens.
Let me explain the situation in New York. We could probably host them in our living room which is about 10 x 10 feet and the only common area where we eat, watch top chef and other fine pieces of entertainment on what looks to be a stolen plasma, but in fact was purchased at full MSRP value (thanks to our Italian correspondants and connoisseurs). To the unfamiliar, you might actually think we sell drugs and roll like gangsters. There are wires everywhere and we eat TV dinners. This space additionally doubles as a closet and bathroom. In summary, the conditions would be tight. I hope Mary Kate & Ashley like hardwood floors.
I could see the sjc’s slowly gaining weight due to the four course meals Lily would provide. Though on the flip, she might actually butcher and sautee our pets in some nice garlic and geniuine EVOO. They may even be incorporated into a nice tagliatelle dish with shaven truffles. Truly the options are endless. Similarly, I could see Lizzy feeding our prized balls of fluff spicy yellowtail rolls.
So after they die of mercury poisoning or sheer boredom, there isn’t even enough grass in the radius of 10 blocks to properly bury them. After 10 blocks, I would have to take the subway and well I think it’s an unspoken no-no to travel with dead chickens.
I know what youre thinking, enough with the fowl language (get it? ha). On to more important things like the possibilities of Edamame running into LaLesbo this weekend and her gf who resembles a 12 year old boy, Sam. I am so jealous I might cry and then immediately run to Penn Station and hop on the next train down.
As for me, I too will be taking a dip in the hipster pool. Catch me at pink ele or kiss & fly this evening. In the words of a high-pitched blonde, I am H-I-P these days. Loves it.
Let me explain the situation in New York. We could probably host them in our living room which is about 10 x 10 feet and the only common area where we eat, watch top chef and other fine pieces of entertainment on what looks to be a stolen plasma, but in fact was purchased at full MSRP value (thanks to our Italian correspondants and connoisseurs). To the unfamiliar, you might actually think we sell drugs and roll like gangsters. There are wires everywhere and we eat TV dinners. This space additionally doubles as a closet and bathroom. In summary, the conditions would be tight. I hope Mary Kate & Ashley like hardwood floors.
I could see the sjc’s slowly gaining weight due to the four course meals Lily would provide. Though on the flip, she might actually butcher and sautee our pets in some nice garlic and geniuine EVOO. They may even be incorporated into a nice tagliatelle dish with shaven truffles. Truly the options are endless. Similarly, I could see Lizzy feeding our prized balls of fluff spicy yellowtail rolls.
So after they die of mercury poisoning or sheer boredom, there isn’t even enough grass in the radius of 10 blocks to properly bury them. After 10 blocks, I would have to take the subway and well I think it’s an unspoken no-no to travel with dead chickens.
I know what youre thinking, enough with the fowl language (get it? ha). On to more important things like the possibilities of Edamame running into LaLesbo this weekend and her gf who resembles a 12 year old boy, Sam. I am so jealous I might cry and then immediately run to Penn Station and hop on the next train down.
As for me, I too will be taking a dip in the hipster pool. Catch me at pink ele or kiss & fly this evening. In the words of a high-pitched blonde, I am H-I-P these days. Loves it.
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