I'm here outside Edwards Air Force Base holding up a dead chicken on TV. Naturally!
Actually, I am doing a story on how the military plans to test jet fuel made from chicken fat ("Yes, Erin and Mark now chickens can finally fly! Ha! ha... heh). So when I told my bosses back East where I would be and why, someone said, "Are you going to hold up a chicken?" "Well," I replied, "I could but hadn't planned on it because some of you claim I'm too 'over the top.'" (Yes, shocking but true, there's word that some folks in hq are concerned my antics hurt my credibility.
Credibility? You're talking to the woman who has created a vain online alter ego of herself called Fake Jane!) However, suddenly the idea of Jane doing a story straight was unthinkable! "Jane, get the chicken."
So I did. At the grocery store on my way home last night.
Here's what you didn't see on TV. I thought I had taken out all the gizzards. But when I did a "practice run" of holding up the chicken on camera, the liver came flying out and hit me. Gross.
I'm still out here with the chicken. It's 98 degrees. This thing is starting to smell.
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