On shooting dead chickens

A few weeks ago the lovely Chatham from My View From the Bell Tower honored me with the Zombie Chicken Award. Yes, there actually is an actual award called the Zombie Chicken Award. I Googled it. And I got it. Chatham was supposed to give this award to bloggers who believe in excellence, grace, and persistence and blah blah something something. Which is pretty accurate because I totally believe in excellent beer, looking graceful while dropping F bombs, and persistently making sure my fiance knows I am going to get EXACTLY WHAT I FLIPPING WANT AT THIS WEDDING, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? There was also something about my readers willing to brave a pack of zombie chickens to be able to read my inspiring words, which is nice until I realized that killing zombies is totally easy because all you have to do is shoot them in the head and bitch, please I've seen all those zombie movies and don't think I'm not ready for the invasion.

If I had to make my own version of this award, it would totally be the Job Award because don't you HATE it when your job prevents you from reading all your favorite blogs all day? I mean, how dare those people? There's a lot of awesome stuff I could do at my computer all day, like seeing how many comments I could write that include the word boobs and sexually harassing Dooce and watching reruns of 30 Rock on Hulu, but then I'd have to deal with all those questions about why I never hand in any of my articles and who made all those copies of Jeff Goldblum's face on the office copier and then hung them up inside all the ladies' room stalls. I just don't need those types of questions right now, okay?


But as part of the Zombie Chicken Award the Job Award, I get to give it to five other bloggers who I would shoot dead chickens for. And I would like to make it abundantly clear that I said dead chickens. Dead chickens that were trying to eat my brains. I don't think I could ever shoot a live chicken, even if it was a pretty awesome blog and even if it was a particularly mean chicken. I'd totally be like that Middle Eastern kid in LOST with the dad who said he wasn't allowed back in the house until he killed a chicken and my younger brother (Sayid, betches!!!) who has no problem snapping the necks of poultry would have to do it for me, which would only be a foreshadowing of the ease of which he will kill people in the future. And then I'd probably cry for days. You know what I mean?

ANYWAY. Zombie chickens. Because I had such a hard time narrowing this down to five and because defying authority always gives me a little thrill (I double dog DARE you to do a rolling stop through that stop sign), I'm going to list SEVEN bloggers who I've either recently totally hit it off with, who I love reading, or who never fail to make me laugh.

2Birds1Blog

Birdykins

SWOPE Files

The Spotted Duck

Your Ill Fitting Overcoat

Bradford Pearson

Betsey Booms

All this talk about dead chickens has made me totally hungry. Tweet