Southern Fried Chicas

I’ll have to be forgiven for this, but I’m in the middle of something, so not much blog-thought time.  And I haven’t done this in quite a while, so why not?

It’s Free-For-All Friday. 

There’s no subject pending, and the blog is open to whatever may come.

Got a question, any question?  Bring it.  Comment on anything?  Post it.  Vent?  Go for it.  Are you a lurker who comes to peek but never participate?  Feel free to join in.

Hell, I’ll even start it off…

You know that feeling you get when you’re in the middle of a maze (okay, maybe you don’t, but PRETEND) and you’ve actually gone in there voluntarily because you thought it would be fun and you could handle it easily and after a very long while you realize it may not be fun at all but a peculiar kind of sadistic puzzle box and you’re trying to get out but instead of nice tidy little boxwood bushes they’ve planted some shit with three inch razor-sharp thorns and erected brick walls so you can’t take a shortcut and you really need to pee but whoever’s in charge seems to have gone home for the day or they just enjoy ignoring the hell outta you and you walk and run and twist and turn—and then it starts to rain?

Yeah.  The past two weeks have been like that, lol.