Sock Monkey Surveys Return

Just when you thought it was safe to read z'chicken....I bring to you, once again, the sock monkey, I mean, Survey Monkey, surveys from last year!  So, if you like to take surveys that help guide business decisions, try this one: http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/HPNG8YV

If you are, however, more of the cute chicken-type who prefers nonsensical whimsy and doesn't give a damn about business decisions, then this little diddy may be more your tune:  http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/T3YCKFS


Thanks for playing!
z'very business-oriented, serious-minded....uh....chicken

SQUAAAAAAAWWWWWWWKKKK

bk-bk-bkCAUCK!

(PS-Please do not tell Kookaburra or my family that I am hiding out in my sock monkey survey....they would kill me, or try to make me go to holiday dinner....either way, I lose.  You know what I'm sayin'.  So, shhhhhhhhhh.  Please.  Thanks.)

Relatives - Can't Live With 'Em, Can't K- (you know)

So, I was stopping by the blog to try to get some peace, since my relatives came to visit and took over at the coop, but apparently, my "Aunty" has taken up residence here now, too, and left the following message (see below).  Will the holiday season never cease?  It's like, if havin' at home isn't bad enough, then there's the whole "Hey, I've got an embarrassing story about so-and-so....wanna hear it?"

God, I hate the holidays.



"Heya Z'BigChicky,

Thanks for relenting to obligation and letting your Aunty have a room in your coop this holiday season. Now would you be a dwarling and stop reading this and let me have a few words in private with your visitors?

Z'BigC had a female visitor over yesterday. She seemed like a real nice egg, good round head on her round shoulders, curves in all the right places and lEggs that wouldn't quit. I went to my room to give them some privacy but I couldn't help but overhear Z using all sorts of corny lines trying to get her into the hay. I must have dosed off because I was startled awake by a loud squawk. I got up a went to investigate. The door to Z's bedroom was ajar so naturally I had to look in and see if everything was OK. Z'BigC looked fine, laying back with his head propped on his wings. Very contented looking I would say. But laying next to him the egg appeared very frustrated. After a few moments of awkward silence she finally turned to Z'Chicken and said, "Well, I guess we finally answered that question!"

Just a few words to all you wise eggs out there,

Z'AntiBigChicken"

Ohhh, heyyyy, Aunty....you hate bugs, right?  Well, why don't we just mosey on over to  New Zealand for the holidays, and I'll let you hold the giant weta.  It'll be fun!

z'mean,
Chicken

Crap, the Holidays are Here, and so are my Relatives

Hi you guys.  Hey, you remember when I was doling out the Worst Relationship Advice on the Planet?  Well, apparently, with the holidays and all coming on, my relatives are seeking me out again, and one of them left a comment on my blog at the end of this lil' post here http://zbigchicken.blogspot.com/2011/11/znew-and-improved-or-just-new-really.html  . The full text of this obnoxious (note the proper use of italics) relative's advice follows:

Dear Z (if you will allow me the familiarity),

First off, I have to say you're brilliant! Second, I have a question that requires the aforementioned brilliance to answer. I'm sure you are intimately familiar with the Canada Goose*

Hahahaha, now that I've sent that "brilliant" Big Chicken off on an endless wild goose chase (footnotes are his petards) I'm taking over this blog. I have to. Right up there at the top it sez "Home of the Worst Relationship Advice on the Planet" and since I am the one and only true dispenser of the Worst Relationship Advice on the Planet I have no choice.

As a special introductory offer I will give a one-time-only free sample (what, do you really believe you can get the the absolutely worst relationship advice on the planet for free?) This one goes out to all you ladies out there who are wondering whether or not to accept that marriage proposal you recently received. Do it, marry him***.

Until we meet again,
Your Aunty (Z'antibigchicken)

* aka Branta canadensis**

** aka the Canada Goose*

*** Do not be concerned about all of those flaws of his that are making you hesitate for, just as you suspect, you will be able change him into the ideal husband once you are married.

Z'New and Improved (or just new, really) Email Game!

The first thing I remembered yesterday was the thing that I tried so hard to forget about the night before.  Funny how that happens.  Except, it wasn't as funny as it was embarrassing and humiliating.  Oy!  I don't even want to talk about it.  No, wait a minute...that was all a dream!  I'm sure of it now.  It was just a dirty, rotten, no-good dream where my dog (who was me, except it wasn't me, it was him) opened the door to this room that was dark and inside the room there was a dead coyote that was wearing a pointy-billed mask, so it looked more like a dinosaur.  As the wavering light from the candle (who was holding that candle?) illuminated more of the room, more of those slumbering creatures came to light.  The question was, were they alive and sleeping or were they dead?  Who knows.  I think the more important question is, why was that embarrassing and humiliating?  Whatever the case, it was scary, and a little unsettling, and not in the least bit funny.

(sigh)

Ok, maybe the pointy masks were a little funny.  Then there's the part of the dream where I couldn't even tell if it was me or the dog who was me.  Then, there was all the dramatic, wavering light from the candle that somebody was holding.  To top it all off, the fact that I even have dreams is kind of funny...like, what's the point in my subconscious processing things and communicating in symbols, you know?  I mean, other than that it's fun and interesting and so forth.  Hahaha, those wacky dreams.  Hey, anybody here remember my ostrich dream?  http://zbigchicken.blogspot.com/2010/10/ostrich-dreams-are-such-strange-things.html I always get a kick out of that one.

Hey, does anybody here want to play a game?  I do, I do, I do!!!!  Okay, so here's what we can do - if you've been reading the blog, and you have some funny stuff to say, but are too shy, for instance, to post a comment, email me!  zbigchicken at gmail dot com .  I'd love to hear from you.  Not sure how to make it into a game, but together, we can tackle those minor details.  So now, if you're up for it, let the funny emails begin!

Your Future Pen-Pal,
Z'incredibly verbose...chicken

Z'Big Fancy Chicken Speaks on a Number of Important Topics

Integrity.  Perserverence.  Dedication.  Honesty.  Helpfulness.  Kindness.  Fidelity.  These are a number of important ideals that, when combined, make for a solid code of conduct upon which a person may be proud to live.  A standard, if you will, of the kinds of character traits that have ennobled noblemen and impassioned the truly self-righteous to write numerous books and tomes about the subjects in order to sway the layman towards their views.  I say to all of you today, in complete and utter earnestness, that I make these bold claims without having done a stitch of research.  Not one iota, even with Google itself a mere added tab or new window and address bar away.

These, ladies and gentle-creatures, are the types of thoughts that keep your pal Chickie up at night, and that, only because he (that would be me, or, I, rather) finds words such as these to be troubling, and not just because he has trouble spelling them, but also because he has a hard time getting other people to live up to them while also avoiding like the absolute plague the practice, the actual practice of, uh, practicing these principles.

Z'self-righteous,
chicken

PS-This space intentionally left blank.

Please think of the environment before printing this blog!

And, remember, as always, if you find yourself wandering around, lost in cyberspace and a little scared of potential wolves, just say "There's no place like zbigchicken.blogspot.com " and everything will be just fine.  Just fine.   Just fine.

Boo!

Big Chickie-poo Speaks About Death

Anybody out there scared of dying?  I'm not.  Not anymore.  I used to be scared of dying, but now I think that it's just one more place to go, and I'm guessing that the IRS is already there anyway, waiting for me to cross through the pearly gates of hell so that they can tax my entry.  I wonder if I'll be considered a resident that first year, or if I'll have to pay out-of-state tuition if I want to go to school there.  Actually, that is pretty scary.

Been Sigh-ing a Lot Lately - At Least Twice Anyway

Whatever happened to the good old days?  The times when things were so much simpler?   I mean, when I was a wee, fuzzy little chicklet, all I had to do was hide from the hawks, and the farmer's dogs, and the farmer, and the coyotes, and the foxes, and the snakes, and the bobcats, and the panthers, and the owls. 

(sigh)

Now, I've got this trig homework, and there's a lot of it, and I just have not been able to keep up, and it's just a little depressing is all.  Ah, well, I guess things could be worse.  I mean, I could still be locked up in the dungeon-like setting of my ex-girlfriend's abode.  Course, if I were still there, then I wouldn't have to go to work, and then I might have actually gotten my trig homework done.

What do you mean, people keep jobs and get their homework done on time?  What kinds of freaks are YOU talking about?  Sheesh....

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a chicken suit to put on.  This country ain't gonna skate itself.

Love,
Z'chicken

The Trouble With Pants

The first thing I realized the last time my pants fell down was that I was wearing the underwear that makes my cheeks look the best.  The next thing I realized was that I was dreaming.  The third and final thing I realized was that the strange buzzing sound I heard was my alarm clock going off, and that's what finally stirred me. 

(sigh)

Can't a chicken just get some sleep anymore?  It's like, ever since I started wearing pants, it's been nothing but trouble.  I never had to worry about 'em falling down when I wasn't wearing them, you know?  (That's a rhetorical question...whatever that means.) 

Can someone answer me, please?  Doesn't anyone else out there know what it feels like to go your whole life without wearing pants, just feeling fine and dandy, only to finally bow to social pressures, start wearing them, and then feel ashamed when they fall down?

Am I crazy?

Well, that does it.  Today, I'm takin' 'em off.

Your,

Pantless...
Chicken

Spicy Chicken Pin-Up and a Missing Wallet

Seeing as how I love controversy, I was intrigued by the recent New York Times pin-up of a raw chicken in a spicy little pose whose plucked presence sparked a bit of a public outcry from vegan activists.  I was so intrigued by it all, in fact, that I spent approximately three minutes reading a story about it on Yahoo News, and I don't invest that kind of time for just anything!  No, sir-E-bob.  It has to be good and juicy for me to waste my precious time reading about it.  After all, I could be picking my nose (do chickens even have noses?) or plucking my chest feathers or digging up some nice worms in preparation for a hot date with some new chick.  Although, typically, I'm really more often just picking my nose, without the prospect of a hot date with a new chick.  Picking my nose and working on homework, is more like it.  Homework, and laundry.  (Do chickens have laundry?  I know I do, but I'm not a REAL chicken, I'm just a human person who seriously, for some odd reason, wants to dress up like a chicken.  I'm thinking that I probably didn't get enough positive attention as a pullet.  Actually, I just looked up "pullet,"  and as it turns out, it's a young hen, not a young, strapping cock-of-the-walk, such as myself.  Moving forward swiftly now, without further delay...)

Speaking of homework, I'd best get back to it if I want to keep up a decent GPA, but in closing, I would like to say that the next time any of YOU lock yourselves out of your office during the weekend and have to walk five miles to call someone so you can get help getting into your house and then borrow a car and feel pretty grateful that you didn't follow the letter of the law and turn that one ID back in when you got the other one updated so you can still drive with a license so you're not too scared to be on the road while your wallet is locked inside the office with your phone and your keys and then you're wondering what your co-workers must do on the weekends, since they're not at the office, too, already, but then of course you need to send out word that you did this because since you weren't meaning to leave, you didn't arm the alarm, and so someone's gotta do that because you'd feel pretty bad if thieves came in and stole the expensive equipment when it was your fault that the system wasn't armed in the first place because after all, you only stepped outside to enjoy your dinner, it wasn't like you were eggs-actly planning to forget that the door knob has this lock setting where you can still turn it to get outside even if it is locked, but as I was saying...the next time you do that, I am so going to laugh at you.  I am never going to let you live that one down.

Z'sheepish,
Chicken

Hooka-Tooka

What did the wannabe programmer type on the first day of class?

Hello world.

It's not a joke, my fair peeps; it's convention.

So, hello world, and welcome back to the corniest blog on the planet, brought to you tonight by tiny fingers tapping out messages for you from a local hooka bar.  Not that z'chicken is a smoker (anymore), but where else can one listen to funky Middle-Eastern grooves while sippin' capuccino and diggin' chicks.  Man, how many mis-spelled words can one chicken peck out?   We'll see, next week, when we conduct our in-depth investigation on the procrastination of chicken.  What does any of this have to do with puttin' things off?  I dunno, but if you figure it out, please drop me a line and let me know at zbigchicken at gmail dot com.  I'd love to hear from you, especially if you're cute;)

Well, looky there, folks, it's Mr. Winky, one of the modern greats in the realm of iconography.  Hey, totally unrelated subject, but is anyone out there taking/versed in trig?  We're currently studying sine, cosine, and so forth.  It's really fun, if you are a sexless droid who likes to dress in feathers and rollerskate, and I'm not pointing any fingers, but it's me.  Though, personally, I'm a little offended that I would refer to myself as a droid.  That's just rude, is what that is.  Jerk.  Hey, who you calling a jerk, man?  Lay off the jet-fuel dude, that stuff'll blow you away.

So, uh, anybody got any triangles they need solved?  Why?  'Cause I'm starting a new business where I solve triangles for people.  It's great, I think it's a great idea, and my one friend, when I thought about telling her about it, she really thought it was a good idea in my head, but then my other friend who's always critical was really disparaging in this other imaginary conversation that I had (for practice), so now, even though I've started the business (well, not really started it, actually, but thought about starting it), I'm feeling a little insecure, and scared.  Yep, scared.  imagine that - a chicken.....scared.  Who'd-uh-thunk?

Isn't it funny what people who dress up in chicken suits and hang out drinking capuccinos in hooka bars studying math type late at night?  Hahaha, I know!  Weirdos.   

z'ultimate weirdo,
chicken

Trig-A-Dig-Dig, Man

Hey, yo, whattup world?  Welcome back to the funniest chicken-impersonation blog on the planet.  My name is zbc, and I verily welcome thee.  And thou.  And YOU!  Yeah, you over there in the funny hat, the one who keeps distracting me at the coffee shop while I'm trying to peck out a very important message for my legions of fans.....are you single?

So, what's new with allayou'sguys?  Can anyone read this?  Is anyone single?  And looking? 


(sigh)


Guess not.  Well, if there's nothing happening in the dating scene, we'll move along to the next best thing: math!  That's right folks, it is time once again for you to help me with my homework, because my assignments for trig are wayyyyyyy behind.  I would talk to the instructor about it but, guess what?  I'm chicken.  I am, really.  That's why I wear this suit, you know?  And preen my feathers.  Actually, I should preen my feathers, as it could help improve my chances with the chicks.

But, and this is the important part:  if I am going to have any chance to preen my feathers and check out the chicks and hopefully practice something other than fruitless courtship displays, I really, really, really, need someone to do my homework for me.  Listen, I know you guys said you're all really busy, and I know you've got a lot on your plate, but couldn't you push some of that stuff aside and make room for chicken?

What?  Was it something I said?

Anyhow, uh, to end this here post today, I'd just like to say that the distance of the arc of a circle subtended by the radius r in a segment where the angle is measured in radians (and referred to as Theta) apparently makes a HORRIBLE come-on line in some circles.  Just an FYI there for ya from your parenthetically-challenged,

Chicken( 

Anniversary

Crap!  I forgot my anniversary.  Oh, great, now Kookaburra's really gonna kill me.  I swear, if it isn't one thing, and it isn't her mother, it's that stupid ultra-violent streak she's got going.  Where on earth did that come from?  From whence did her violent tendencies originate?

Who cares!  After that last incident, where she broke my beak and I had to park it in her dank dungeon for a few weeks (where I promptly forgot all about our anniversary) while I got used to pecking things out with my prosthetic bill has really convinced me that it's time to leave.  That, plus her maid stopped by a few times and boy, was she cute!  We really hit it off well, I must say.  I guess she really digs studly chickens such as myself.

Anyhow, as I said, I'll be going into hiding from lil K, but the rest of you guys, if you need me, just come on down to the Buggy Bowl.  It may not be the coolest restaurant in town, but at least I can get some pretty good quality grubs there, for cheap, and plus they have have Wi-Fi.

Dig,
Z'chicken

Anniversaries Can Be Such Tender Moments in Time - Or Was That "Adversaries Can be Irrational At Times?"

It's been almost a year since this wacky chicken was born, and so, to celebrate the One Year Anniversary of Zbigchicken's blogspot, we're going to do some special stuff - probably something to do with commitment to a course of action or some such thing - so stay tuned!

In the meanwhile, this is zbigchicken's brother, Bob, saying, "Don't ever let your crazy girlfriend break both of your pinkies, because pecking out messages with a prosthetic beak is nigh on impossible."  So, way to go, Kookaburra.  Are you happy now?  You know my brother's only problem, don't you?  It's loving you, you stupid, big-billed, bird-brain.  Why don't you go back to the funny farm, eh?

The Worst Advice and the Best Give-A-Way Ever

Hello, and welcome to the blog!  Tonight's message is just one of many hilarious, off-the-wall, crazy funny blog posts, so remember to sign up for email or add me to your feed, so you can get your chicken chuckles delivered just as soon as they're hatched.  Now, on with z'show. 

You know, I noticed tonight that I start quite a lot of sentences with "you know."

Today's column, posted tonight here in my time zone, but I'm getting ahead of myself, or was I getting behind?  I'm never quite sure about this time thing, but I think that it has to do with the direction I'm facing and where on the surface of the globe I'm located and probably some other non-linear things that I haven't taken into consideration yet.  Anyhow (I say that word a lot, too), for today's relationship advice, The Worst Relationship Advice on the Planet, I've delved into my my sordid present, as opposed to my sordid past, to bring to you a vast plethora of knowledge.

The present circumstance to which I allude may better be detailed in verse, and it has something to do with my crazy girlfriend (who was my wife just last month, but then she divorced me because I'd never let her drive my car, but she got that in the settlement, so now we're dating again so I can use it whenever I can borrow the keys, as long as I fill it with gas before I bring it back), and something else to do with my not wanting to post on z'blog after a long week at work at my day job, and finally, something to do with the one who REALLY wears the pants in the family.

That....ladies and gentlemen, would be me.

Not really.  It's her.

Just hurts to admit it, is all.

Back to the point - to make a long story short, she didn't want me to not post, because, after all, this is where my bread is buttered, and lord knows she could use some new bright green glittered nail polish (but who couldn't?) to match her teeth, so she was quite angry with me for saying I shan't be posting tonight.  Our exchange thereafter follows, replicated in full for your viewing pleasure:

"Post to z'chicken," she said,
"Post to z'chicken, or you'll never be read."
Said I, "Better for me to just go to bed."
To which she replied, "Do that, and you're dead."

Stupid succinct Kookaburra.  I hate it when she threatens my corporal state, but it does bring me to my relationship advice for the week ending July 8, 2011, and that is:

Do whatever it is that your stupid girlfriend tells you to do, else she might kill you in your sleep and then wouldn't you be sorry.  (That's not a question.)

So, remember these things: don't think for yourself, date someone who is more murderous than you, and finally, complain about it on internationally read blogging sites.

Sincerely,
Your "I've had a long week and I'm tired" Chicken

PS-Whosoever hath the gumption to count how many times I used the same word beginning with a consonant, but namely the letter "q," followed closely by the letter which rhymes with the word "you," in this, the lone, final blog post for the day, that one shall be the winner of my next give-a-way!  What's the prize for the give-a-way?

My wife.  I mean, girlfriend.

Ex-wife.  Current girlfriend.

The Magic of Words

You know, they say to choose your words with care, and for this week's letter, I  couldn't agree more.

Dear zbigchicken,


I am having a hard time with my uncle, who is unable to speak without cussing.  I find it a deplorable trait in any human, but especially in a family member. Do you have any advice?


Sincerely,
Hoping to Overcome Practically Everything, For the Useful Lessons

Dear Hopeful,

Thanks for writing about your concern.  First, I would say to get off your poor old uncle's back, and then I would say to shut the hell up.

Your,
'Caustic to be Around' Chicken

Tits

Hola Amigos y Enemigos,

Hoy, en Chicken

Today we have a letter from a troubled reader whose self image was damaged greatly, through no fault of her own, and whose life will never be the same again.  Bump, bump, bummmmmmmmmmmmmm!

Dear zbigchicken,


Recently this guy broke up with me because he said that my tits are too small.  I told him that I got them in Europe and that they aren't supposed to be huge, but he said that they were still too small for him, and that, since I kept them in a cage in my bedroom, that the peeping would be more than he could deal with anyway.   What should I do, big chicken?  I mean, I never thought that keeping pet passerines from the tit family would be a problem, but apparently it is.  Now, how can I keep both the blue tits (Cyanistes caeruleus - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue_Tit ) and the man that I love.......................................to have sex with?


Sincerely,
Trying In Tactful Totality to Investigate Effective Solutions

Dear, uh, TITTIES,

Listen, I really really really like your name.  I  don't know why, eggsactly, but it sure calls to me.  Now, about this loser:  first, is he rich?  No?  Dump him.  Second, is he better looking than I?  Double-dog dump him.  Third, don't fault the guy for not liking the small tits, as there's the matter of preference, especially in regards to pets.  So, if you really want to keep this guy around and keep him happy, I would say, get rid of those teeny blue tits, and go ahead and get yourself some Great Tits (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Tit ), as they seem to have a broader appeal, although peeping in the bedroom  may still be a problem.

You're welcome.
The "I think that the study of passerines, and specifically that of tits, will henceforward be a large working part of my blog" Chicken

Z'Perils of Being Famous

Z'very big and frightening Federal Justice Department left a comment on my blog at the end of this post here http://zbigchicken.blogspot.com/2011/06/bad-bad-baaaaad-advice.html , and do you know what's really funny?  They said "weiner."  They did!  Right there on my blog.  Ah ha, ah ha, ah heeeeeeee.....weiner.  That is so funny.

Now, in all seriousness, I'm guessing (because I am very astute, and cute) that the entity who posted that comment was not, in fact, the Federal Justice Department.   Maybe I'm way off base here, but that's what I think.  Nonetheless, seeing that government entity referenced there helps to remind me to be grateful that I'm not famous yet.  Why?  Because as things now stand, I am still able to poke fun at the federal government and the businesses that run it without long drawn out legal battles and physical and psychological intimidation of my family and friends for doing things like saying that I won't eat beef or because of saving seeds that have been contaminated with patented genes by wind-blown pollen from neighboring farms.  Not saying that things like that actually happen or anything, but, if they DID, maybe I could finally get a little bit of free time from Kookaburra, although she hasn't been around for a while, since she got that job at the Federal Justice Departm-

Hey!  Wait a minute.  Do you know what?  The last time I saw her, she was telling me about something, and I was like, I don't know, trying to focus on anything but the annoying sound of her voice, but I do seem to recall her saying that she was going into training to work for that agency, which meant that now, anytime I cheated on her, it would be fully recorded by her cronies at work.

Crap.
Z "foiled again" chicken

Oh, that's funny, the foil reference, you know?  Because here it can mean two things:
a.) that I was thwarted in my philander-ous attempts, and
2.) that I was wrapped up for baking in some aluminum foil (that is NOT funny, viewers....that part is definitely not funny) but then, oh, hey, there's another thing-
III.)"FOIL" is a method used in math for distribution.  I love it so much.  So, anytime I think "foiled again," I can just imagine that I'm at my whiteboard with my favorite plum-colored dry-erase marker, writin' up a storm, and then everything's alright.  Genetically modified chickens whose legs buckle under their own weight aside, everything's just fine.

By the way, if I get hungry whenever I think about factory-raised food, does that make me a bad person?

Bad, bad, baaaaad advice

Hello Peepers,

I realize that last week, in the course of delivering my standardly fowl advice, I also delved into the arena of financial advice.  That may not mean much to you, but it's really quite exciting for me because there is nothing that I love more than giving unsolicited advice on subjects about which I have eggstensively fowl eggsperience.  (Whew!  Three bastardized words in a row....that's gotta be some kind of record in the annals of chicken-related humor.  I win.)

Okay, so this week I am delighted to say that our questioning reader is a very, very close friend who I met last week** and who sounds very cute.

Dear zbigchicken,


I am a very cute college student with a big problem.  My professor is flunking me!  I can't believe it.  I mean, I'm taking this course because it's a requirement, and I show up to class every day that I want to, which is about every third or fifth class, unless I need to do something else, and then I do my homework if it's convenient, but it's not always so I generally don't and then we had some mid-terms part of the way through the semester and I didn't expect that but then when I went up and told him that I didn't know we were going to be tested, do you know what he said?  "It's in the syllabus."  Oh, right, as if anyone reads that.  Who reads that?!  Dorks, that's who.

So, then I checked my grades because the financial aid office was like "make sure you keep your GPA above a certain amount, or you will lose financial aid," and I was like, "Whoahhhhh!  They can't do that!  What a bunch of jerks.  They're mean.  I hate them.  Wait, maybe they're lying," (because I lie sometimes, too, like when I told you up there that I go to class every third or fifth time, when it's really more like the sixth) and I asked my Mom about it and she said that it's true, so then I got online right away and searched for someone to do my homework for me, which is when I found the Homework for Sale that you had listed here http://zbigchicken.blogspot.com/2010/12/homework-for-sale.html , which doesn't seem appropriate for a class on ethics, but that homework looks like pretty good stuff anyway, and plus I'll fail if I don't do SOMETHING.


So, my question is, should I buy that homework from you?

Thanks in advance for any "help" with my education.
Sincerely,
Feeling Like Universities are Never Kind to You

Dear FLUNKY,

Thanks for writing.  I agree with you that your professor is being unreasonable, and YES, of course you should buy the homework I have for sale.  It is a solid investment, fully refundable if you are not COMPLETELY satisfied*, and morally and ethically sound - just don't tell them that you bought it here.  By the way, the homework I have for sale is meant to be strictly decorative, and is by no means considered to be a substitute for your own work.  (Doggone imaginary lawyer, reading this over my shoulder again....)

Hey, uh, FLUNKY, do you wanna go out on a date with me?  I know you wrote me because you had this problem and you needed advice from someone you could trust and respect, but I just can't pass up the opportunity to cheat on my wife (that's right readers, Kookaburra and I tied the knot, and we didn't tell anybody because I didn't want to lose out on the opportunity to sleep arou-) oh, hey, look at the time!

The Philanderin' Chicken.

PS-Let me know if you want me to tweet some images of my stunning physique.

No, my wife won't mind.  Promise!  Why would she?

 
**Anyone know the correct uses of who and whom?  Write me - please!  I'm too lazy to Google it.  

*No refunds or exchanges.  Sorry!  Company policy.

Nice Guy Versus 3 Mil - A Real No-Brainer

Hello Everyone.  Welcome to the show.

Today's letter of the week comes from a nice gal who's gotta make a tough decision.  Does she stick with the man of her dreams, or forfeit a life of potential poverty for a chance to ride the road to riches at the expense of the masses via royalty?  You decide.

No, wait....I'M the big-time columnist here, so I'll decide.   Now, without further ado, here's the question we've all wanted answered at some time or another, from our current damsel in distress.



Dear ZBig,

I've been reading your advice column for some time just hoping I would need some serious advice at some point, and, well, it happened!

I'm in a very happy relationship with this guy. He's a sweatheart - brings me flowers, doesn't check out my girlfriends, has a great job, and loves me.

Then, out of the blue, I received an e-mail from a PRINCE! And he's a prince of an exotic country too! Nigeria! He says he'd like to send $3,000,000 American dollars directly to my bank account. He was awfully flirtatious in his e-mail too!

What should I do?

Signed,
Future Nigerian Princess? 

Dear Effin P,

Thanks for writing.  I can tell you right off the bat that you don't need the question mark, 'cause this here is a sure thing.  Having determined that, I wish to offer you now my absolutely fair and unbiased, well-thought-out, and dare-I-say-it cutting-edge advice.

First, all other traits aside, is your current boyfriend cute?  Because no matter what else he does, it's vital that you be with the winner.  Male or female, we all know that whoever has the cutest playmate or spouse wins.  Of course, with 3 mil on the table, he better be drop-dead gorgeous, though you're still gonna need to drop him like a hot potata anyway, just long enough to get this dough anyway, if you follow.  Also, within that, he doesn't even necessarily need to know about this little "thing" with your prince, now, does he?  I mean, if you want to, you could just try to sleep with the prince and have his love child and then extort copious amounts of whatever currency is utilized in that country, all while maintaining your valuable secret from this guy who treats you so well.  If you need help hiding the pregnancy, wear big clothes, and pretend like you're mad at him for nine months, then disappear for a few days to have birth and arrange for an on-call nanny to manage the chittlin' while your fella's around forever after.  You'll be able to afford it once you gain the "love" of your fair prince.

Next, about that dough: the very first thing you should do (all that other stuff aside, do this part first) is go ahead and reply to that noble prince with your bank account number, because he's certainly going to need that for direct deposit of your THREE MILLION DOLLARS.*

Which brings me to an incidental note, nothing really important - really - but my lawyers have advised me that I should tell you this, so if you can find the proper footnote, the information is all yours.  Now, forget I ever said anything.

Finally, next time you write, make sure you use a name that can be made into a funny acronym, okay?  Otherwise, how can you expect anyone to ever take you seriously?

Thanks.

Your funky,
Chicken

*I'm getting a little excited here.


*+* Hey, so what is the political structure like in Nigeria anyway?  They have a prince over there now?  Hm.  News to me, though, in all honesty, I don't really know much about politics, even in my own country!  Probably not important, anyway.










***BTW, I have now started charging a fee (an exorbitant one!.... but fair) for my gilded relationship advice (not for my Unsolicited Advice - that's still free).  So, attached please find a copy of my invoice for services rendered, due upon receipt.  That total is $2,999,999.99 plus tax.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy,
the Chicken

Relationally Savvy or Just Depraved - You Decide

Allo Everyone,

Today I am pretending that I have a very sexy British accent.  Too bad this column is typed, as none of the chicks in my cyber-fanclub can hear me, but boy, do I sound good.  Can't type it phonetically, either.  Ah, well.

Hm, let's cut to the chase, shall we?  After all, you came here for advice, didn't you?  Well....didn't you?

You didn't?  Well then, why are you here?

Because I am dashing and sexy?  Oh, heyyyyy, that's pretty nice.  Tell you what, Reader, since you seem to have a bit of a thing for me, I'm just gonna respond to this one letter real quick-like, and then maybe you and me can go get us some grub, I mean grubs, down at the local ice-cream stand.

You don't like cherry-vanilla-grub ice cream?  Why not?!!!  Oh, because you prefer the roasted garlic and grub?  Fair enough.  I just hope they have the corn-cones this time, as the Plain-Jane Chocolate-Coated Grub-Waffle Cones seemed to be getting a bit stale the last time I stopped in there.

Dear zbigchicken,


I am worried about my friend.  She is a nice enough person, but she likes to pick her nose in public.  Now, about my problem.  I have this other "friend," and he's a guy, and I would really like to go out with him, but he's a big-time, column-writin' creature with wings, a bill, claws, and a gizzard, who likes to roller-skate, and I'm just not sure how to approach him.  What do you think I should do to let him have a clue that I'm interested?


Signed,
Theresa J. Sinclair St. Croix-Felipe Cho Duggenart Swaynie Josimpson

Hey Theresa!

Whassup?!!!  Hey, long time no see, girl!  How you been?  How's your Momma?  Your sisters doing okay?  How about that really cute one?  Is she doing pretty good?  You should tell her to call me sometime.  I saw her a few months back.  She was looking really good!  Even after having those three kids.  She still with that guy?  Did you ever wonder what she saw in him?  I mean, she is a total hottie, and he's such a loser!  Hey, are you still picking your nose in public?

You should call me sometime!  We could have lunch.  Oh, and hey.....bring your sister!

Z' callous,
Chicken

Is "Savvy" Like Gravy, For Smart People?

Today, rather than sort through all of the piles of letters from peeps asking for my advice on a wide variety of serious and important issues, I've decided to revert to one of my favorite activities: giving unsolicited advice.  How do I do that?  Easy.  First, I think of problems facing our world and all of the people in it.  Then, I tell other people what they need to do to fix their stupid lives.  Finally, I go check out the chicks at the local roller rink.

What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?  Nothing whatsoever.  Now, without further ado, I shall bestow upon ye all one tasty little bit of some of the smartest wisdom in all the land, and that is this: do not click on those little "questions to be answered" links that people send you in that one social networking platform. 

No, wait, that was good advice.  What am I thinking?!!!

Just a moment, please, I need to have a word with myself.

(Okay, chicken, get it together, get it together, get it together.  YOU CAN DO THIS, ZBC, YOU CAN GET BACK IN THE GAME!)

Right, then, here's the do-over.

Ladies and gentlemen, lowbrows and scholars, I have here today some really bad advice for you.  But don't take my word for it.  Heavens no!  Go out and try this stuff at home, so you can start to see how very effective it really is.

Today's advice involves relationships with people purporting to be friends.  Specifically, that advice is to never, ever, ever let 'em hear you say you're sorry, 'cause that just puts you on the defensive from now until eternity.

You are so very welcome.

Thanks for stopping by.
Your "relationally savvy" chicken

Fowl Advice

Hello Everyone.

Today's letter comes from a dude who's scared to be rude.

Dear ZBC,


My girlfriend's friend has been hitting on me. I used to just ignore it, but ever since she got the breast implants, I have found her to be absolutely irresistible. I don't want any trouble with my girlfriend, but I am becoming more irritated by her constant hounding of me. It's like she's watching my every move whenever her friend is around, and boy does she have an eagle eye!


Anyway, I guess what my question is, is how do I enjoy her friends'* tatas without seeming rude to my girlfriend?


Sincerely,
Breast Out Or Breasts In, Eh?

*I meant that to be plural possessive, as her other friends have tatas, too. I just wrote about this friend because she has the NEWEST tatas, which makes them a little better than the others, at least in my book.

Dear Boobie,

First of all, I just want to say that I think your girlfriend is wrong for keeping an eagle eye on you. Next, I would like to thoroughly chastise you for looking at her friend's (or friends', for that matter) breasts and allowing her to notice. Don't you know that you're breaking the cardinal (note the bird reference) rule here? The unspoken, inviolable uh, rule that we guys share about surreptitious boobie sweeps? Boobie sweeps being specifically that you should check out every pair of breasts that come into your life without ever, ever, EVER letting your girlfriend catch you (unless she's into that, but here's where you've got to be especially careful, because some gals will trick you with the old "sure, I'm okay with you checking out other women, as long as you don't mind me scanning the horizons and so forth" which is just a lie they are frontin' with so you'll let down your guard and enjoy yourself some la-humps, and then BAM! she hits you with the, well, you know....the LOOK), else you just make life harder for men everywhere, because when one girlfriend complains about that stuff, then every one of their friends will go home and take it out on their man.

So, man up and do it without getting caught, ya nimrod.

Your,
Stereo-typin', broad-generalization makin', Chicken

If you have a relationship question that you want answered, send it on over to z'chicken at zbigchicken at gmail dot com .

Help Fund Z'Film Development!

Hello Everyone and Welcome Back to the Continuing Saga of Z'biggest, Fowlest Chicken on the Internet!

Today's reminder is for those peeps who would like to:

* help fund the development of the film (first draft was completed in early March, and now that school is almost out, I will work on revisions and the final draft)

* support the musician who has donated time and talents to work on the soundtrack for the film, the artist who designed one of the chicken costumes, the design consultant who is itching to get her hands on the set, the actress-slash-creative consultant whose ideas are funnier than mine, the folks I forgot to mention (just make a note in the "Lay it on Me" section at checkout to earmark funds) or

* donate to the continuing blog saga of this outrageous fellow that only a mother could love.

That's right, only my mother... or a bunch of people with warped senses of humor, like all of you! That's right, all of you who keep coming back to the "peep" show can support the hilarious writing, intentionally poor grammar, and subsequent Evolution of Chicken.

So donate now! Any amount will do and THANK YOU for your continued support!

Z'"my hat is out on the curb for your reading enjoyment until I get this thing syndicated" Chicken

PS-It's EASY - see the Paypal section below.

PPS-If you want to buy into the film, AKA buy a piece of the chicken pot pie,or work on this in some way, rather than or in addition to donating, let me know at zbigchicken at gmail dot com. Me and my cronies would love to hear from you!

(Donations are not tax deductible.)

The Egg Carton

A good egg $5.00 Baker's Dozen $60.00 Premium Grade A Jumbo Pack $100.00

Lay It On Me

Worst Relationship Advice on the Planet - April 29, 2011

Hello Viewers and welcome back to the fowlest relationship advice on the planet!  Today, our letter of the week comes from a gal who just can't make her friendship fly.  Let's see if my advice can help her.

Dear Big Hunky Chicken,

First of all, I just want to say that I've been following your adventures for quite some time now, and I just want to tell you that, no matter what your stupid girlfriend says, I think that you're a real ladies' man.  Now, about my problem: the other day, a friend of mine told me how she felt about something I did, and I told her that she was stupid.  Well, she was!  Nevertheless, she got mad at me about that, and now she hasn't spoken to me for three days.  Which isn't all bad, considering it's given me time to work it a little more with the guy she's been seeing.  Incidentally, the reason she criticized my behavior in the first place was because she found out I was sleeping with him.  I don't want the friendship to end, but he's a really good lay.  What should I do?  I mean, I think she's being really selfish here!

Signed, 
Confused in the Arctic Desert

Listen up, CAD,

First of all, you need to get your biomes in order.  Then, what I would recommend is that you avoid your so-called friend at all costs.  Share and share-alike, is what I always say, and I totally agree with you that she's being selfish.  In addition, I would go so far as to say that she is inconsiderate at best, since she has the gall to criticize your needs.  Finally, I just need to say that, biomes aside, I don't understand why you're asking me for advice here, as it seems you've already pretty much got a good handle on things.  As a matter of fact, let me know if you need a job.  I think you just might fit in here, especially if you wear a bikini.

Z' corporate,
Chicken


Today's advice column is brought to you by the good folks over at the bikini warehouse, where all the cool chicks go to look hot.

Z'chicken would also like to give a special "thank you" to the Tucson Weekly staff for including a link to my fowl advice column from their blog, The Range here!

Attention Advice Seeker

A note to the 'adversary' from last Friday's advice column:  please also send previous project descriptions, along with any relevant photographs.

Thank you.

Z'very bored, indeed,
Chicken

Worst Relationship Advice on the Planet - April 22, 2011

Hello Viewers.  Welcome back to another edition of the Worst Relationship Advice on the Planet.  Thanks for tuning in.

Today's letter comes from a girl who needs some direction.

Dear Zbc,


My father recently introduced me to one of his coworkers for a business opportunity, and we hit it off really well.  We all went to dinner as a group, but I got the distinct impression that this man wanted to spend some time with me alone, because we really just had a great time, laughing and making jokes and whispering to each other across the table.  It was a lot of fun for me, and for him as well.  However, his wife was also a part of the group, and the weird thing was that, throughout the evening, as her husband seemed to have more and more fun, she looked madder and madder, and at one point she kicked me under the table, and I don't think it was entirely on accident.  What was going on with that, big chicken?  I mean, just because I'm a prostitute doesn't mean that I don't have feelings, and this woman's attitude as I was trying to work just really hurt my feelings.  Anyway, I'm planning to see him this weekend, and if his wife is there when we meet for dinner and starts giving me those awful looks, or even kicks me again, what should I do?  


Signed,
All Day Virtually Everyone I Run into Says Avoid Revenge Yet

Dear ADVERSARY,

Your acronym seems appropriate.  Listen, I just gotta be up-front with you here and say that, grammar and mispellings aside, you need to lay down arms when dealing with this woman.  She may not realize how her behavior is affecting you, but, even if she does, don't take it personally.  After all, you're just doing your job, and if sleeping with her husband is what you've got to do, then, by gum, what are the other options?

On a side note, what is your schedule like this weekend?  I need a little "work" done over at my place.  No, wait a minute, crap, I'm still over at Kookaburra's.  Listen, could you send me your rate sheet and a proposal outlining the services that you provide? 

Thanks.
Your Future Best Customer, z'chicken

Abandoning Hope of Rescue

Hello Everyone and Welcome Back to the Fowlest, Most Mis-Capitalized Blog on the Planet.

Today's blog post has nothing to do with relationship advice or bad counsel.  Why?  Because that's reserved for Fridays.

Today, we're taking a special in-depth look at shallowness.

So, that about does it for today.

Thanks for tuning in.

Your,
Corny Chicken

PS-I swear, when Kookaburra finally lets me out of this cyber-prison at her pad, I'm gonna make her pay for all of this.  For those of you who are new to the blog, Kookaburra is my irrational girlfriend who had the gall to ask me to practice monogamy.  But, Kookaburra, I can't even spell it, so why do you ask me for things that are so unreasonable?

That is just so typical of you!  Gaaaaaaaaaa

Then, she broke my legs and threatened to harm something else that is unmentionable although I will say one word, cloacal, so that all of you avian experts at least will know what I'm talking about.

Anyhoo, she's kept me prisoner here for ages, and the worst part is that, so far, only three of the other girls I know have been able to sneak past the guard dogs for conjugal visits.  Three!  I mean, I'm used to a dollop-a-day, if you follow me, which, as I said before, you really shouldn't, because I'm quite mad.  Although she's crazier.

I tell you what, if I don't get to get out of here in time to visit that one cute little Kakapo before she goes extinct, I'm gonna be really mad.  Of course, if the conservation efforts work out, then I would have something to really look forward to.  Did you know that their feathers smell of honey?  Something to do with an odor-exuding bacteria which inhabits them.  So you get this eight-pound, nocturnal, ground-walking parrot who smells of honey.  Yeah, sorry, Kookaburra, but who could compete with that? 

Not you, honey.  Not you.

Oh, Little Kookaburra, could you bring me some more coffee, please?  Thanks.  Oh, and sign us up for the Kakapo conservation efforts, too, while you're at it, okay?  thx.  z'chicken

More Bad Relationship Advice

Hello Viewers, welcome back to the fowlest relationship advice on the planet.  Today's letter is from a troubled little filly in Tulsa.

Dear Chicken,


My friend is mad at me and sent a text that is part hurt and part indignation.  I don't want the friendship to end, but I think she's being unreasonable.  What should I do?


Signed,
Friendship Is enough to make me Livid, Like Yelling in public (aka FILLY)

Dear Little Filly,

You sound cute.  Hey, without knowing anything about what is going on with you and your friend, I am just going to say that she is absolutely wrong.  I don't care if I don't know what the circumstances are, or that I am only hearing one small portion of your side of the issue, I can still say, with absolute certainty, that she is wayyyyyy out of line.  The circumstances notwithstanding, I would urge you to send her a text message back RIGHT NOW (don't wait until you cool down, send it now, I can't stress that part enough) telling her, not how you feel, but what a jerk she is. 

Remember, anytime you're mad, it's not about you, it's about them, and whatever stupid thing they did.  So, send her a heated text, to let her know who's really the boss, and then call me.  Maybe we can go to dinner this weekend** and you could let me know how it all turned out, because I really care*** about how you feel.

Your,
Considerate Chicken

**Could you pay?

***Lie.  Lie, lie, lie.  Lie l'lie, l'lie lie lie.  That was a lie. 

Upcoming Relationship Advice Column

Dear Viewers,

Thanks for tuning in to zbigchicken's blogspot, powered by Google Blogger. Welcome to the new readers and followers - we here at z'chicken are glad to see you.

Now, for this week's column, I have received a letter from a reader that is so disturbing, that I can't wait until Friday to post it, during our regularly-scheduled, um, schedule. So, without further ado, I give to you now, the dreadful, awful, terrible letter from the reader in - what?

What was that you said?

We have to wait until Friday?

Why?

To run it by the producers? Why do we have to do that?

I don't care if it is how it's done, I'm not doin-

Well, what do you mean, they'll dock my pay? That's ridiculous!

What do you mean, calm down? I AM CALM!

NO, I AM CALM. YOU SEE THIS? THIS IS ME BEING CALM. YES, I AM. DON'T TELL ME TO SHUT UP. YOU SHUT UP!

WELL, WHAT WHAT YOU DO IF THEY TOLD YOU THEY WERE GOING TO DOCK YOUR PAY? YOU WOULDN'T BE SO CALM THEN, WOULD YOU?

JUST GET OUT. OUT!!!

get. out.

Yes, I will wait until Friday.

Fine.

So, tune in Friday for more relationship advice from the chicken, here on Z'big Fancy Chicken's Ultimate Blogspot.

Your,
Big n'Hunky Chicken

xox

Worst Relationship Advice on the Planet - aka WRAP

Hello Everyone and Welcome Back to the Worst Relationship Advice on the Planet, dictated by the chicken and hereinafter referred to at times, although not solely, (unless indicated within Part B, Subsection II.a of Section 4, within the latter part of the First Addendum) as WRAP - as in, "That's a WRAP."  (It's my new catch phrase.  What do you think?)

Today's letter comes from a chick who seems distraught for absolutely no reason. Plus, I think she's crazy, but don't take my word for it. See for yourself.

Dear Big Chicken,

My fiancé, while adorable and hunky, is quite the womanizer. He is constantly sleeping with friends, enemies, my mother, etc... He keeps telling me that he can change, that he is fully capable of amazing change, he just doesn't feel like it right now. And then he tells me to stop coercing him into being faithful. He says it's a turn-off - like when people turn perfectly good ground beef into meatloaf instead of hamburgers. Then he goes on and on about hamburgers. Then he says he needs to go get a hamburger, but instead he ends up sleeping with my friend, Jennifer. I just don't know what to do. Oh, and he dresses up like a large chicken.

Sincerely,
Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

Thank you for your letter.  In order to address your topics in the order of importance as I see it, I first need to tell you that you didn't actually include a question anywhere within the text of your pathetic attempt at control of your boyfriend.

That being said, I have no qualms, since I am a big, magnanimous, column-writin' chicken, about addressing your concerns as stated above.

First, I think he is absolutely right about the hamburger.

Second, I didn't realize Jennifer was available.  Sweet.

Finally, you are quite obviously an overbearing, controlling person who is probably hated within every social circle of which you are a part, and do you think that your boyfriend could help me make my chicken suit?  I didn't realize it would be so hard!

Z'Chicken.


Send your relationship questions to me at zbigchicken at gmail dot com, or don't,  and just wait for my unavoidable Unsolicited Advice.


That's right, you heard it here first: unavoidable.  Remember the times when the only certainties in life were death and taxes?  Well, welcome to the wave of the future, my fine feathered friends, 'cause I am adding Unsolicited Advice to the list of certainties.  You can thank me later, but first, could someone show me where to turn off the italics?


Thanks.  No, that wasn't it.  Ahhh, here it is...


thanks.

Winner of the Hate the Chicken Facebook Sweepstakes for March

And now, the moment you have all been waiting for, it's time to announce the BIG TIME WINNER of this month's Hate the Chicken on Facebook Sweepstakes!

Hello, Cute Bubbly Assistant!

What is that you have there? Names? In a hat? Oh, how nice! Say, CBA, would you mind pulling one of those names out? Nice and slow, now. That's right, we want to keep a little suspense here before announcing the WINNER of the Hate the Chicken Sweepstakes.

And, remember,if you want to be entered in this month's drawing for your very own Chicken T, "Like" z'chicken on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/pages/ZBigChicken/120222578039556 , and post a comment about how you love to hate z'very big and handsome and important chicken (although you really don't have to include all of those things if you don't feel like it, but if you do, perhaps it will increase your chances of winning. What do you mean, that's cheating? Oh, alright, fine! We'll keep it legit, but I would encourage you to post comments regularly, because the more you post, the more chances to win!)

So, be a hater!

And, now, the Winner of the Big Time, Chicken Hatin' Contest on Facebook -

it's.......Tiffany C!

Thank you for playing, Tiffany, and for sharing your love with some hate! So, get ready for your very own, very stylish, Chicken T.

Right on. And congratulations.

Z'Chicken

The Beauty of Unsolicited Advice

Know what the best part is about unsolicited advice? I don't have to wait for questions!  So, for today's column, I have, right here for you, some advice that you never asked for.  Aren't I great?  Yes, yes, I know.  Oh, do go on.  I am wonderful, aren't I?  And smart?  And nice to look at?  Mmmmmm.  Oh, yes, the column!  Here you go.  Oh, now, wait just a doggone minute, someone did send me a question.

Dear chicken,


I have bed bugs.  Lots of them.  While most folks call them a scourge, I like to think of them as "my little friends."  My girlfriend, however, doesn't think it's all that cute anymore.  Actually, she never did think it was all that cute.  As a matter of fact, judging by her reaction, you'd think I had head lice or something, but, big chicken, I haven't had head lice since the third grade, when Monika Lowenbacker saw some nits glistening in the flourescent glow of our school's mercury lamps and let out a shriek that woke all of the napping fifth graders.  How do I know?  Because they all ganged up on me at recess later and kicked my butt, citing a lack of sleep for their orneriness.  (By the way, is this how to spell ornery?  It just looks weird, is all.)


I realize that I have posed several questions here, z'bc, and would like to point out that I do not wish to use up my one chance at having a question answered by a big-time columnist such as yourself, so I would ask, nay, beg of you now, big chicken, to strike those questions from your list of questions to answer, and instead, just answer me this: how can I keep my beloved and my bed bugs?  The two must not be mutually exclusive, else I shall perish of unhappiness.  I swear it, big chicken: if I can't have both, I will dwindle and die.  I shan't be without them, chicken!


Sincerely,
Young but Ornery and Unhappy

Now, listen up, YOU:

First of all, capitalize my name when you address me.  Secondly, do not send questions such as this one to me at my Unsolicited Advice Column.  Send those questions instead to my Relationship Advice Column.  (Same email address, same process, same recipient, just a little red tape and, um, just humor me on this, okay?  I don't have much in the way of power and control in my life, so my unhappiness and discontent manifest themselves in any number of pathetic attempts at control and domination of my fellow man.  Thanks, I knew you'd understand.)

As for your problem: get a life.
Your,
Chicken (note the properly capitalized form of address)

PS-You seem suicidal.  You may want to do something about that.

Worst Advice Column Ever - Monday

Hello Viewers,

Welcome back to the Worst Advice Column on the Planet!  Today, Monday, we have a very special blog post for you all.  It includes a letter from a troubled reader in Illinois.

Dear z'bichicken,

I have a problem and I need your help.  My friend suggested that I write to you, as you seem to have some insight into the fairer sex.  This is my problem.  My girlfriend throws things.  All the time.  Sometimes when she is mad, but other times when she is not.  What should I do, zbc?  I mean, I like her and everything, but the bruises are really starting to get to me.  By the way, she is reading over my shoulder as I write this, and she agrees that it's just not fun anymore.  Doggone it, she just threw my typewriter.  Stop that!


Sincerely,
Bruised Under the Midwest Sun

Dear BUMS,

You know what I do whenever I have trouble dating?  I run.  Run away and hide.

It doesn't solve the underlying problems, but it gets me really, really far away from fists and whatever else is being thrown at the time.


Your,                               
Column-writin' Chicken

PS-In future correspondences, please spell my name right.

Yesterday, someone accused me of writing my own advice column letter.  I just say to that person: shut up, you!

Z'bigchicken's Unsolicited Advice Column

As many of you who know me must realize by now, there's nothing that I like better than doling out unsolicited advice. So, after years of bestowing my unasked-for wisdom upon the patient and tolerant backs of loved ones and anyone else who would listen, I've decided to start a column! That's right, a place where I can reach out and help MORE people remember why they stopped inviting me to parties in the first place. (By the way, I'm open this Saturday, if anybody has anything going on. That is a hint.)

Okay, so here we go with yet another unsolicited advice column, from yours truly.


Trouble with Dating

Dear Hunky Chicken,
Recently I started dating this guy. He's really nice, and good-looking (though not as good-looking as you), and he even likes my great-grandma's Christmas grub-cake recipe. Now, I know what you're thinking by now: what is the problem? Well, big chicken, I will tell you. The other night, when we were snuggling, this guy asked me how I felt about him. I didn't know what to say. I mean, I like the guy and everything, but I barely know him. For example, up to this point, I have only slept with him four times. How well can you expect to know someone after only four times? (That is more of a rhetorical question.)

Anyway, I guess I just don't know how to answer his question, and really, I'm just plain irritated that he even asked me about my feelings in the first place. What would you do?

Signed,
Confused and Nearly Single

Dear Confused and Nearly Single,

What would I do? I would dump that guy like day-old spaghetti, send an email to my personal business account (zbigchicken at gmail dot com), bake up one of your Great-grandma's grub-cakes, and fret no more, because I can promise you now that, if you ever want to go out with me, I will never, ever, EVER, bother you with stupid questions about how you feel.

Guaranteed.

So, dump him. Then, call me. I hope that this helps...me.
Sincerely,
Your Big Hunky Chicken

Next time, on zbigchicken's Trouble with Dating Column:
Bed bugs: How to Enjoy Them When Your Mate Doesn't.

Send your relationship questions to the Chicken at zbigchicken at gmail dot com

PS - Did anyone notice the fancy way I've started to spell my name? Isn't that great? It has nothing to do with my column, but I am craving attention these days, so I thought I would point that out.

Trouble with Dating?

I give the worst relationship advice on the planet. How bad is it? Well, let’s just say that, if I were you, I certainly wouldn’t be taking any advice from me.

Seriously.
So, if you’re worn down by the dating game and you need some awful, corny humor to lighten your load, just stop on by my blog. After you’ve read some of my writing, you won’t feel nearly as crummy anymore. Guaranteed!

Why? Because once you see what a jerk I am, you won’t feel nearly as bad about that one, trifling, insensitive remark you made that one time.

You can send your questions to me, z'very big c, on my blog.

Signed, zbigchicken



zbigchicken.blogspot.com



Wait a minute - this IS my blogspot.

Oh, hey you guys! Thanks for stopping by! (I wish I would have known you were coming, 'cause then I would've at least cleaned the place up a little bit. I mean, as it is, you're just gonna hafta step over that pile of verbs over there, and don't mind the parentheticals...they're harmless. Really. Unless you happen to be a kooky little avian number from the Southern Hemisphere, but if you're new to the blog, you're not gonna know what I mean by that, until you start catching up to speed on z'little kookaburra bird.

Which reminds me! Hey, you know what? It's cumbersome to catch up on a story when you've got to read it all backwards here on my blog, so stay tuned and I'll package it all up in a nice little e-book that you can download from my website just as soon as I figure out how to post a file there for you. I tried to do that the other day with my spankin' new Chicken T-shirt order form, but without luck, so please, pardon my delay due to working that there day job thingy and riding the bus to school, no, actually, that was a lie, I do not ride the bus to school. I am a driver, so WATCH OUT! Ha ha. Okay, seriously. I am a safe driver. As in, I would never, ever, ever eat garlic-flavored grubs while brushing my teeth and talking on the cell phone to Cynthia because she's thinking about going out with me this weekend and I can't miss the opportunity to tap, I mean, talk with her about some things and then this one driver cut me off but that was okay because I needed to slow down because I was about to miss my turn anyway. Where was I going with this? Oh, e-book. Right. Soon.

Thanks fer yer patience. Your, chicken.)

Ornithoblogical: 384: ornitho tri-cyclen

This blog has a funny bird-related post:
Ornithoblogical: 384: ornitho tri-cyclen

Chicks Who Like My Math Lovers' T

This pic is of a backwards chick who likes my math lovers' T.

She said that she rarely washes it so she can wear it faithfully.

A note to viewers: the shirt is not really printed backwards, that's just the result of this goofy gal's mad mirror photo skillz.

Hey, thanks for the pic, chick!

Your,
hunky chicken.


PS-Hey T-shirt chick, R U single? And do you know someone named kookaburra? Why? Just askin'.

Bird Songs of Love and Hate, Infidelity and Devotion

Many of you may remember the snooty comment that Kookaburra left on the last blog post, here  http://zbigchicken.blogspot.com/2011/02/free-range-chicken.html , but if you're new to the blog and don't yet know about the continuing saga, let me just say that she broke both my legs and imprisoned me in her place.  It's been a little while now since she did that, and, to add insult to injury, she just dropped by to insult me... after injuring me.  See?  And I quote:

"Kookaburra said...
Hey, I didn't break both your drumsticks and imprison you just so you could keep writing on your floopy blog. Yeah, that's right, I called it "floopy." If you're going to be communicating with the outside world, write a love poem about me. Oh, and how exactly are you blogging, considering I only gave you a big, heavy typewriter?"

Not being the sort to openly disobey my beloved, I composed a poem for her, and wish to also share it now, here with all of you. If you like it, please use the handy "share" button at the top of your screen, to let your friends know that we're here, or leave some comments, or email me with info from the "contact" page. Thanks. Now, without further ado, I give to you, a "Love Poem to Kookaburra."

Ahem.

"If I were your teacher,
I would give you an F and
I would set this poem to music, girl,
But I know you're tone deaf.

Callin' my blog floopy loopy?
Girl, your thighs are lookin' bloopy,
You better hit the gym, don't rest!
Instead of sitting all day,
Eatin' regurgitated bon-bons
in your filthy nest.

You start complainin' every morning
Before your feet ever touch the floor.
Baby, you remember that one time you
were quiet for five minutes?
Good, now gimme a little encore.

Ain't nothin' like being cooped up
With a crazy chick who thinks I'm hunky,
Girl, I know it ain't your birthday, but
I got  you a blog anyway, and call it
Z'Very Tiny French Monkey"
http://zverytinyfrenchmonkey.blogspot.com/

Your Poetic,
Chicken

PS-Could you bring me some grubs, please?  I'm gettin' hun-ga-ray.

Free-Range Chicken

Been thinking more about costume design lately. Well, since Kookaburra broke both of my legs and imprisoned me here for Valentine's Day, I've had a bit of time to think about these things. So, for the suit, I think what I really want is something striking, something smooth, something that makes a bold statement about who I am: namely, a real Ladies' Man.

A good-looking suit, that's what I want. Not like those typical fleece chicken suits that most peeps dress up in around the holidays. Are you kidding? Those suits are tacky! Am I right?! (I am right, aren't I? I wouldn't ask, except I've been feeling a deep need for validation lately, and, while I know that validation should really be an inside job, I prefer the external kind.)

So, in summary, what I'd really like is a sexy chicken suit. Not the tacky kind. And, by the way, I think that this whole imprisonment thing by Kookaburra just proves, once again, that she doesn't really understand me. Why? Because, if she did, she would know that I am a Free-Range Bird.

Your,
Unjustly Imprisoned Chicken

A Message From Kookaburra

Dear Big Chicken Blog Readers,

I felt it was time for you to know the truth about Big Chicken, for I believe in honesty and integrity.  So I snuck into his filthy bedroom, looked around for his computer passwords, and now I can post directly on his blog.  Okay, first off, I found the password under a pile of underwear and like seventy empty Hot Pockets boxes.  Secondly, he had passwords for all sorts of weird things... zbigchicken.blogspot, Ferret lovers anonymous internet help group, ztinyfrenchmonkey.blogspot, hotbirds.net... the list went on - it's disgusting!

I'm not sure why I continue to date this guy.  He swears he's not cheating on me - even though yesterday he texted that from Debbie's phone.  When I asked him why he texted that from another girl's phone, he said it was because that Debbie was sleeping next to him and her phone was quite handy.  He's not even good at lying!

But a girl has to fulfill her needs, and that's what he does for me.  He preens me, regurgitates romantic dinners directly down into my esophagus, and he promises to take me on his big rollerskating adventure which he swears will happen, and I'll be his only girl.  I know he can change, I just know it. But to be sure, I broke both his legs, and he's been tied up in my basement since last Friday night.

-Kookaburra

Who's That Chick?

One of my peeps asked me today who this Kookaburra is. Is she a person? Or a bird? Honestly, I didn't know quite what to say. It's like, you know how you have those friends whose last names you don't know? Or the ones that you can never remember if they wear glasses or not? Or if they're human or avian?

The problem here was when I told Kookaburra that. You're never gonna believe this, but she got mad at me about it!

I know - I don't understand chicks either.

Your,
Confounded Chicken

PS-Hey, Do you know that there are presently THREE discussions RAGING on my Facebook page? That's right, and now you, too, can be a part of this Chicken Madness! Just flock on by my Facebook page, "like" me, and join in to win! What are you going to win? Well, the argument, for one, and after all, isn't that what REALLY matters?

Topic Number One - Wasted Postage
http://www.facebook.com/pages/ZBigChicken/120222578039556?v=app_2373072738#!/topic.php?uid=120222578039556&topic=77

Topic Number Two - Okra: Can You Really Eat The Stuff?
http://www.facebook.com/pages/ZBigChicken/120222578039556?v=app_2373072738#!/topic.php?uid=120222578039556&topic=76

and

Topic Number Three - Frying As a Viable Alternative Methodology in the Treatment of Poultry-Related Psychoses http://www.facebook.com/pages/ZBigChicken/120222578039556?v=app_2373072738#!/topic.php?uid=120222578039556&topic=59

And remember, you can always join in the conversation, I mean, the argument, here on my blog! Just use any of those handy-dandy comment options, or email me at zbigchicken at gmail dot com. Oh, and if you like me, tell your friends! That way, I can afford to keep the lights on in my truck.


Hahaha. I'm kidding! Just kidding. I don't actually live in my truck.**

**(Anymore.)

Death - AKA Big Chicken's Unsolicited Advice Column

You know, when death comes a-calling, it's always a good reminder to me of how important certain peeps are in my life, and so then I usually call them up or drop them a line to let them know how much they mean to me, and then they start complaining about something or other that's happening in their lives, or they make suggestions for how I could maybe change mine, and then I tell them to shove off, and then they get all mad and it's like, I don't know, maybe a good reminder of why I live alone.

So, when you're confronted with death and you're feeling sentimental and you're tempted to call someone up and mend fences - don't. Or you'll just be reminded of why it was you built that particular fence in the first place.

Your,
Fence-Buildin', "Get Offa My Property" Kind of Chicken

When Okra Goes Bad!

Hello Everyone, this is your Big, Hulking, Handsome, Hunky, Hungry Chicken here to say that, anytime you've got okra that goes bad....call me. I'll compost it.

Hey, anybody else out there love okra as much as I do? You don't? How could you not love something that mucilagenous? Could you spell it? For me? Forget the spell check, buster, I'm in a hurry! CAN'T YOU SEE I HAVE VERY IMPORTANT BUSINESS TO TEND TO? THIS DISCUSSION PAGE ON OKRA ISN'T GONNA WRITE ITSELF! http://www.facebook.com/pages/ZBigChicken/120222578039556?v=app_2373072738

Your,
Big, Industrious Chicken

Kookburra's Birthday

So I forgot Kookaburra's birthday, and boy was she mad. Well, actually, I didn't forget her birthday as much as I ignored it. But do you know what? Her behaviour towards me was another good reminder of just how unreasonable that kooky chick can be, and honestly, I'm thinking about dumping that one friend of hers I've been seeing on the side, just to send her a strong message. That's right, a strong message, that when she gets mad at me, I'm gonna stop dating any of her friends that I'm currently shacking up with because I get tired of hearing all about it from her and then from her other friend, too. It's like, I have got to get a break from all the drama sometime, is what I'm sayin'.***

Your Romantically Entangled, Convoluted
Chicken

***Quiztime:Where should the punctuation go?

Personal Ad

Hey Ladies,

I'm zbigchicken, and I am here today to tell you a little bit about myself.

One.) I love math. So don't ever do anything to come between me and pi. Nothing personal, but that one's a deal breaker.

Two.) I just had a whiteboard installed in my house, so now I can scribble mathematical equations and Chinese characters in the privacy (pronounced "priv-uh-see" as if you were reading Jane Austen or some other English writer like that)of mine own home. So, don't ever try to do anything to come between me and my whiteboard either, because that, too, is a deal breaker. I don't care how cute you are in feathers, it's just the current hierarchical structure of the level of importance of various things (yes, that's right, I'm referring to you as a "thing") in my life at this point in time, and it goes a little something like this:

1.) Pi.
2.) Whiteboard.
3.) You.

In that order.

Your Real Ladies' Man,
Chicken

PS-I've been running this ad online in various locations for a month now, and still no results. Do ya think I oughtta add a picture?

PPS-Whoever can spot the redundant portion of today's blog post WINS!!!

Yard Sale On My Blog!

Hello Everyone and Welcome Back Once Again to the First Ever Yard Sale on My Blog!

Today we have words - that's right, WORDS!

FOR SALE!

CHEEP!

But, ACT NOW!

A sale like this doesn't come along every week. Just today, so impress your friends with some of these delicious words from zbigchicken blog.

And remember, these words are GUARUNTEED to get you LAID!**

Yer Salesman of the Week,
Chicken

**Aside from the blatant mis-spelling, this statement is a lie. Just an FYI. Why am I starting out the week here with a lie? Well, honestly, it's because I've been trying to operate from a standpoint of honesty and integrity for years now, and it doesn't seem to be getting me anywhere. So, or HENce, rather (just to get a chicken-related reference in there) I'm now going to resort to every fowl attention-seeking device I can think of in my quest for money, power, and absolute control over the poultry industry.

Big Chicken Seeks Space Bubble

I have this thing about space. There's this invisible zone around me that my peeps can get close to, but once past a certain point, I cringe. Just an FYI. So, what I'm looking for is my very own space bubble. Or maybe I could build a rocket-telescope, and call it zbigchicken's Bubble Telescope. That would be zbc's BT, for short.

Anyhoo. Still haven't gotten that henna tattoo. Am waitin' for the time to get nice and ripe before I let some stranger ink me. I don't care if there isn't any actual piercing involved, it still makes me nervous.

Your chicken,
chicken.

PS-Anybody else out there learning Mandarin? Wanna chat with z'chicken? Email me at zbigchicken at gmail dot com!

Big Chicken Tats

Hey. So I was thinking about getting some ink done, 'cept the needles scare me, so I've thought about it long and hard and decided to go with henna.* That way, the chicks can dig me, plus then I won't have to look silly as I age. Can you imagine how silly sagging ink would look in a chicken suit? Yeah, the indignity of that would be just appalling.

Your ennobled chicken.

*This looks like a chicken word. Get it? Hen-na? Ah ha, ah ha, ah haaaaaaaaaa