Ramblings of a Lone and Wayward Chicken

Hello Members of the Public, and Welcome Back, Once Again, to the Most Grossly Mis-Capitalized Blog On the Planet. Just Remember, You Heard It Here First (although, technically, you're reading,  unless you're one of those peeps who happen to read out loud as you go, which is not recommended by Mr. Stanley D. Frank, who wrote that one book on speed-reading that you can buy with the Amazon link below [Nerds, I am talking to you here, which actually means that I am just talking to myself again, but, anyway])***

Anyhoo, this just in from one o' my peeps

'Just looked at your big chicken blog - hilarious - I love that "skating across the nation in a chicken suit - so I don't have to" - way to take one for the team!!! Public service at it's finest :)'

That's right, ladies and wheat germs, I am doing this here thing for you.  So please remember to feed the chicken with those tasty Cyber-Chicken Theater Tickets, so zbigchicken can continue to give you tasty belly-chuckles.

Writing to you in italics today from the Clark County Public Library, where one of my many and varied "friends" is waiting for me in the lobby.  So, let's just take our time on this, shall we?  As in, a thorough review of who we are and why we are a.) skating across the nation in a chicken suit and b.) writing you long-winded, hilarious blog entries about it.  Oh, alright, fine, I will cease with the italics, but only because I think that you are so incredibly cute when you stick your beak under your wing like that.  Awwww.  Hey, listen, I have a friend with a lonely cockatoo.  Are you single?  No?  Well, you didn't have to slap me.  I was just asking.  Speaking of bills, hang on a sec, I have to go pay one.


Listen, could someone, preferably one of you smart people, research geocaching and then call me up and talk to me about it while I'm driving across the country?  You've got my one number, I'm sure, and if you can reach me on that one, then I'll give you the other one, the one that has better nation-wide coverage.


For the rest of you losers out there who aren't yet part of Zbigchicken's Inner Sanctum, hook me up wid some dough and then we'll talk.  Heh heh.  Seriously.


Okay, paid the bill, seems like there was something else...oh, the italics.  There.  What a freaking relief.  This page was startin' to look a little girlie.  Nothing against the chicks, but usually I only try to look all sensitive and all when I'm trying to, you know.  Get some.

As for the geocaching, please do ring me up and let me know all the details**, because I have started a great series of stolen paper napkin art that I would really like to start leaving in places all across this Our Great Land.  Another alternative is that I will gladly sell this artistic crap to any one or all of you.  So, let's start the bidding.  You've got my email, but I'll give it now to the new players, so that's

zbigchicken at gmail dot com (as always, remember the z before the b)

By the way, you know that big chicken you saw walking down the street in Las Vegas this morning?  That was me.  Hey, you try looking good before coffee, Mr. Wise Guy.

Grungily,
Your Big Chicken

PS-I have lots of funny things that I have been writing and that I will continue to promise to send to you.  So, for those of you who have had it with me and who are now truly at the end of your ropes, just hang in there.  I'll get it to you soon.  I promise.  Maybe.  Haha, are you still reading?  Who in their right minds ever reads a "PS?"

**And then meet me somewhere between here and Louisiana, for instance, I have a brief layover planned for Flagstaff, Arizona, tomorrow, and would be happy to meet you there and let you install, for me, the app that will allow me to use my telly phone as one O them fancy gps thingers.  So then I could play the game.  As the chicken.  That I am.  So call me.  But first, do my work for me.  Then call.

***Could someone tell me where the period would go at the end of a parenthetical like that?

Listen, I really have to go now, because I have to take that one nice friend to big chickens everywhere to lunch.  See you tomorrow, I hope, and just remember:

Who's Your Chicken?

And don't say it's those jerks over at Robot Chicken.  That's right, I heard of those guys.  Yeah, my smart friends clued me in to the competition.  Well, I don't care how many chicks they have in bikinis on their website http://www.adultswim.com/shows/robot-chicken/index.html (which is a brilliant tactical maneuver, and btw, if any of you big chicken fans out there wish to send me pics of chicks in bikinis, please, be my guest), I am still very funny.  And handsome.  Surely, that counts for something in this day and age.

You know what?  I just scrolled down their stupid wikipedia page, and do you realize how many stars they've had as guests on the show?  Chicken Ghost Writers, get in here!  Tell me, why does the Robot Chicken show have lots of peeps on it and all I've got is a cadre of smart, creative, brilliant friends and followers (publicly silent though they may still be) who are doing all kinds of neat, behind-the-scenes stuff?  Ohhhh, that's right.  We do have that, don't we?  So, take THAT, Robot Chicken!  Yes, that's right, take that like a real chicken.  (And, BTW, if any of you Robot chicken peeps ever want to be a guest on my show, write me.  I'll think about it.  Okay, okay, I thought about it.  You could be a guest on my show, but only because you're already famous.)