You Know You're A Chicken Addict When....

Quail Kid, if Jesus has a problem with how I speak or anything else I'm doing or not doing in my life, He is more than welcome to discuss it with me Himself. It's none of your DAMN business. Seriously? Nobody's hurting anybody here, Kid. Except you. Move on, Thumper.

*Ahem* That being said...

You know you're a chicken addict when...

You can't even spell "souffle", but you just MUST learn to make it before your egg bin in your fridge collapses.

You realize that if Col. Sanders was coming to visit, you would load the shotgun.

You force yourself to drive across town to the OTHER grocery store to avoid going near TSC during Chick Days.

You drive to the OTHER grocery store, then let your ice cream melt in the car and come home with chicks anyway.
OR
You successfully avoid TSC, but get withdrawal shakes so bad thinking about it that you call your local breeder.

Your local breeder is on your speed dial right next to 911...and you call 911 by mistake. "No, thanks, no ambulance...well, if you have one in the area, can they swing by TSC?"

Your mail peeps so often the postman consents to deliver it.

You attempt to get school credit for "Chicken Math" .

You put "Chicken Math teacher" on your resume and LinkedIn profile.

A school superintendent actually calls you wondering about your teaching experience (and what Chicken Math is).

You don't tell him what Chicken Math is, and land the job!

You go to confession on Sunday, and the priest expects a chicken dinner!

You can write out the 12 Steps in chicken-scratch!

You never run out of things to say on "You Know You're A Chicken Addict When..."

Let's keep 'em coming people! Fess up!:lau:wee

****
(And even more...)
You have so many eggs in your fridge you should declare them on your taxes. (Asset, income, or alternate currency?)
 
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this is a no cussing website i'm reporting you!
Clearly, only you care.

You know you're a chicken addict when...

You show up to an AA potluck with chicken...and leave with more chickens.

You stop buying onions and potatoes because your chickens can't eat the scraps.

You go to a methadone clinic...to pick up chickens.

Everyone suddenly knows what to get you for your birthday...and Easter...and Christmas...

You no longer mind being "the chicken lady".

Your town's reigning "Chicken lady" relinquishes the crown (uh, comb)...and sells you more chickens.

Perdue and Tyson send spies to scope out the "competition" .

You mortgage your house to build a new chicken coop.

Said chicken coop requires building permits and its own address.

Jehovah's Witnesses stop by your chicken coop thinking it's another house...so often your roosters learn to answer the door.
 
You know you're a chicken addict when:

Everytime someone excitedly tries to tell you something beginning with "Guess What!", you immediately reply "chicken butt" and whip out your phone to start showing off pics of your newest fluffy butts.

ROTFLMAO!!:lau:clap

I need fluffy chicken butt pictures.

GUESS WHAT??!!
 

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You know you're a chicken addict when:

You're at friends/family/restaurant for a meal, and you tell whomever is sitting next to you, if they're not going to finish their plate you'll be more than happy to take it home in a "chicky-bag" for the ladies.
 

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