So last night Denise and I ended up at Hattie B's. While ordering I thought to myself, 'self, you lived in Houston for six years, you GOT this'. After all, isn't Hattie from Nashville? What do the good folk of Nashville know about heat? This ain't country music, it's hot chicken.
Well, I was wrong. D-E-A-D wrong. In fact, I might never have been more wrong in my 20 something years of life (alright maybe 30 plus a few). And I paid for it. 30 solid minutes of mouth inferno.
And that my friends is the bad news. The good? I got an idea.
So I went back and ordered two more pieces of chicken. One medium (easy stuff babies could handle) and one 'SHUT THE CLUCK UP'. Now that's fire. LAVA. WAKA-FLOCKA-FLAMES-HOT. And the next morning Duryan would have to make a choice based on trust.
Next week it's the warm worm brownie 'Who Do You Trust' challenge!
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