Talk to me

Talk to me

I like to indulge in some mindless reading every onc in a while by checking out the Dear Abby column. I find the questions sometimes incredulous and once in a while helpful. There was a recent question though, that kind of got to me. I mean, every once in a while I want to say, “Lady, you have bigger problems that would better be suited for a professional and not an advice column.” But then, there is always that one in the bunch, so why would it be any different in this instance, right?

I digress…here’s the question:

DEAR ABBY: My husband purchased a bag of individually wrapped frozen chicken breasts during his lunch break. After work, we took our kids to a concert and didn’t return home until 8 p.m. The bag of chicken was in his trunk for seven hours on a hot summer day.

My husband thought it was OK to refreeze the meat and feed this to our kids, ages 6 and 2. I adamantly disagreed. What are your thoughts? We’ve had this argument before. — NO WAY! IN SAN JOSE


Abby is such a tactful person and she had a nice response that was correct and made sense, however, I really feel like I could have written a better one. It makes me think I’d like my own advice column where I give “real” and honest advice. None of that sweet business, cause let’s get real….If Matt fed my child refrozen hot chicken that was left out for 8 hours in a car ( he would never do this, this is hypothetical) I would be too busy tearing him a new one (hypothetically) to be nicely giving him the 800 number for the USDA to fact check himself. Not to mention that Abby never responded to how she should handle her idiot husband. And, that my friends is the problem, not the hot chicken….so, here’s my go…

Dear HOT CHICKEN: Your husband is an idiot. However, I have a simple solution for you. The next time your dumb hubby comes home with 8 hour old hot chicken and tells you that it’s ok to feed it to the kids later,  you should smile, say “ok,” and carefully label the chicken before putting it in  the freezer. The next night you should take it out and prepare your husband a nice meal with it. Feed the chicken only to your husband. The next morning while he’s in the bathroom puking his guts up, you should go in there, rub his back, and then gently whisper in his ear, “How does it feel to eat salmonella infested chicken?” I’m pretty sure he’ll never pull that stunt again. Oh, and never leave your kids home alone with that man again.

What do you think? Can I make a career out of this? Shoot me some more advice questions and I’ll try my hand at it. You know, for shits and giggles practice. Go on. Talk to Suzie. Muahahahaha!

*Disclaimer- The advice given in this blog are completely my own creative ideas and opinions that are not based on any real factual scenarios or research. Take the advice at your own risk. Please be cautioned that alcohol may or may not have been involved in the thought process of creating advice.



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