This week’s Chicken Finger Conspiracy Update:
Today, the guy served and he gave me 5 Huge chicken fingers. Not so many fries, though. Hmmm.
Added intrigue: I didn’t have to place my order. He just said "Chicken, right." I nodded. Later, he tried guessing my finger sauce: "Sweet and Sour sauce?" he asked. "No", I said, "Honey" I added. Whether he took the "honey" the way it was intended, I don’t know. But he did say "Right. Guess I should know that by now." I replied, so coyly: "Sometimes I like to mix it up." I can’t wait til he tells the girl about that. Surely that will fire up her jealousy and garner me five fingers from her next time she serves me. (and it’s true, about the mixing it up. The time before last time, I got Sweet’n’Sour sauce. Last time I got No Sauce. Today, honey.)
Even more proof chicken fingers are the food of love. Who the fuck can argue that now?
So since we are back to the finger lickin’ good game, I too have had a good fingering. All the chicken talk forced me into cedars for a chicken finger platter. Now on this platter was about 6 fingers, 2 very large and the rest were short and wide. I was super full by the end of the meal, and I think that with so many odd shapes I must have got that last batch of fingers that day.
As I sit here at Cedars, typing this entry on their wireles.
On my plate are 4 chicken fingers of medium size, steak fries and coleslaw (is that how it is spelled?)
By my power of deduction, this can not be the place of Rob’s fiasco, the waitress here does not make the chicken fingers, such is implied at where Rob goes. I can only then guss that he goes to the Marina Grill or the Black and White for his chicken fingers. Now the Marina being closer to the office, my hunch goes to it for the moment.