I’m the Foursquare mayor of the fried chicken place on my block. I’m not proud of it. I earned it, though. Maybe I can also be the mayor of my gym. Probably not.
my brain is fried
like the french, and the potato
im fried
like the french man who killed his wife
the one
on methadone
fried
like the man that shut out the world
and suffered
my brain is fried
because its a hot day
it rambles on senselessly
but its ok
I didn’t feel like going out and getting the fried chicken. But she had begged me for hours to finally get on my pants and leave the bed. I wondered why it was fried chicken and not friend pickles as she usually preferred. I should have never left LA.
Wow I cant read at all. I thought fried said friend so I wrote about my best friend. Well fried. Let me think. Yuck. That is the only word I have to describe it. I hate fried eggs, fried vegetables, fried chicken.
My best friend and I live 14 house down from each other. We have known each other for 15 years and she is the greatest person I have in my life. We are complete opposites yet we are so alike. She does Ballet and I play soccer. When we were younger we use to eat tums in her sisters closet…we thought they were candy.
I fried my brain. I fried it good and hard with butter, garlic, and a little salt. One might wonder how I’m now writing…thinking..acting at all, but let me tell you it isn’t a problem in the least! Why, who needs a brain when there are so many other people to think for you? Just watch this! I turn on the tv here, quick button push, and BOOM! There’s the news, anchormen telling me just what I need to think so I can get by day to day. Magazines, news bites, the radio…I don’t need a brain at all.
I used to make a fried egg sandwich just about every morning before school. this was back in California in my elementary school days. I’d get up and shower, eat and be out the door before my parents or brother or sister were even awake. I’d walk through the cool, foggy or misty mornings with my handcrafted breakfast. If it rained I’d tie grocery bags to my feet. Shoes were so hard to get in those days.
the grease seeped through the napkin and onto my fingers. i hadn’t done this in a while. Indulged in something this luxurious, as luxurious as fried dough.
It was the loneliest moment of her life. Staring out the paneled window, cold, tired, shoving food into her mouth – her last attempt at survival. Chicken fingers and french fries.
Where many feel that fried food is very unhealthy, I maintain that it itsa question of quantity control. We could all have a occasional treat but wew have as a nation forgotten limits.
Her brain was fried. She had spent the last several hours trying to put her experience down on paper and all she had left in her was a sigh of relief. When did words become hard and when did time stand still? She had a dead line to meet and she was not sure if she was going to make it. Could she muster up more words?
I’m fried. I’m tired. It’s the ninth day of the new semester and I’m already behind, basically in everything. No motivation. My grandfather’s death and then two months of work a week after final exams have left me drained and sort of dead inside, and that has yet to go away. So instead of work, I sit here, typing this, wondering what my plans are and when I’m going to feel less fried. Less braindead.
She went downstairs and slammed ger headon the table. It was kind of ironic, though. She thought that it would be impossible to get fired as a fry cook…..she wasn’t fired….she was fried….
Fried is usually good to eat but bad for you and not as healthy. You can make many fried foods such as Top Ramen. My boyfriends sister made amazing fried Top Ramen with many spices and this spice it came with. Yum!!!
I woke up, surprised by my husband with a nice breakfast. He presented me with two perfectly, fried eggs, still in the pan and a class of orange juice with some toast on the side. I asked “Why?”
“Fried. My brain is fried. Like, literally. Like now.” Monica moaned. She threw one hand over her forehead in the perfect imitation of drama.
I resisted the urge to swat her with an oversized throw-pillow. “You think your brain is fried? How do you think I feel? I’m not the one who put her summer homework off until the very, very last day in the whole-”
“okay, okay, I get it. I’m sorry.” She rolled over and buried her head in the remaining pillow on the sofa. “Fine. I’ll never do it again. Cross my heart and-”
“You’re going to college next year.” I scoffed. “They don’t give you summer homework.”
“Then why does-”
“I don’t know why your high school does. It’s weird. Only you would pick a weird high school to attend. Now come on, I have to get back home and put dinner in the oven before Mom gets there.”
“Why can’t your dad do it?”
I fixed my almost-ex-best friend with the best glare I could muster.
Her face pinked a few seconds later as her brain caught up to her mouth. “Oh.” Her words were muffled in the pillow. “He’s working late too, isn’t he? Sorry…really, I’m sorry. Like I said, my brain is fried.”
“That’s not the only thing that’ll be fried…” I whacked her with the pillow. It made me laugh.
I rubbed the butter all over the pan with the knife, watching with fascination as it bubbled and melted. The scent filled the kitchen and warmed my nose. I dropped the thick, juicy slices of zucchini into the pan and stirred them around, flipping them when they were a perfect golden brown. I wrapped them in a paper towel and went to the living room to eat my tasty treat.
Shifting the pan around on the burner, he stared at the bacon hungrily.
“Dude, isn’t this the third time you’ve had bacon? Like, today?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“I think your arteries might be on the brink of mutiny, man. You should probably chill. Eat, like, a banana or something.”
” . . . Can the banana be fried?”
Chicken is an interesting meat. It goes with everything, but it is actually very healthy in comparison to meat like steak. I like chips, however I hate the ones from fast food chain restaurants, because they’re so thin and full of rubbish! However my favourite chips are from Wetherspoon, because they’re so nice and crispy.w
The anticipation was killing him. He laughed. If only death could be so easy. The feel of the iron underneath and the steel stares through the viewing window chilled him to the bone. Soon it would all be over. He’d be dead. He’d pay the ultimate price for killing all those people. He’d burn.
Fried. I feel fried. It’s only been a moth of college, and I am fried. Burnt out. Done. Exhausted. How am I supposed to do this for the rest of my college career? Idk. Not to mention cross country. Not only does that add to the mental strain, but the physical strain. I give up too easily. I need to become stronger. God, be with me.
my brain is fried. my brain isn’t fried from any of the drugs that i’ve taken, any of the chemicals that I’ve been exposed to, or any other reasonable thing. my brain is fried because of the bullshit that I have to deal with every day.
I heard a sizzle, and slowly but surely it was followed by a little smoke escaping my laptop. Oh crap. Not again. Not again. I’d let it charge too long. Much much too long. This was the third time this month, third time the circuit had FRIED.
mmmmm fried chicken, ken tucky fried chicken. really hot. spicey. Friedrich Nietsche (can’t spell his name) The philosophy of kentucky fried chicken. … with hot sauce. lashings of descartes.
Fried chicken is really bad for you and pretty gross. Limpy pink chicken pieces lay in a box – squishy and covered in some smelly goo. The goo is leaking through the cheap cardboard and onto the floor of the freezer. Some biddy sticks her hand into the box, maybe drops some on the floor cause those motherfuckers are slippery. Then she throws them in the grill and watches them sizzle away and get a tough scabby skin. When that’s all browned up, it is served to you. And that, my friend, is what you stick into your mouth and eat. Fucking gross man.
I’m the Foursquare mayor of the fried chicken place on my block. I’m not proud of it. I earned it, though. Maybe I can also be the mayor of my gym. Probably not.
my brain is fried
like the french, and the potato
im fried
like the french man who killed his wife
the one
on methadone
fried
like the man that shut out the world
and suffered
my brain is fried
because its a hot day
it rambles on senselessly
but its ok
I didn’t feel like going out and getting the fried chicken. But she had begged me for hours to finally get on my pants and leave the bed. I wondered why it was fried chicken and not friend pickles as she usually preferred. I should have never left LA.
Wow I cant read at all. I thought fried said friend so I wrote about my best friend. Well fried. Let me think. Yuck. That is the only word I have to describe it. I hate fried eggs, fried vegetables, fried chicken.
chiken
people
scared
heat
crispy
crispy…
fire
set fire to rain
pain
My best friend and I live 14 house down from each other. We have known each other for 15 years and she is the greatest person I have in my life. We are complete opposites yet we are so alike. She does Ballet and I play soccer. When we were younger we use to eat tums in her sisters closet…we thought they were candy.
I fried my brain. I fried it good and hard with butter, garlic, and a little salt. One might wonder how I’m now writing…thinking..acting at all, but let me tell you it isn’t a problem in the least! Why, who needs a brain when there are so many other people to think for you? Just watch this! I turn on the tv here, quick button push, and BOOM! There’s the news, anchormen telling me just what I need to think so I can get by day to day. Magazines, news bites, the radio…I don’t need a brain at all.
I used to make a fried egg sandwich just about every morning before school. this was back in California in my elementary school days. I’d get up and shower, eat and be out the door before my parents or brother or sister were even awake. I’d walk through the cool, foggy or misty mornings with my handcrafted breakfast. If it rained I’d tie grocery bags to my feet. Shoes were so hard to get in those days.
the grease seeped through the napkin and onto my fingers. i hadn’t done this in a while. Indulged in something this luxurious, as luxurious as fried dough.
It was the loneliest moment of her life. Staring out the paneled window, cold, tired, shoving food into her mouth – her last attempt at survival. Chicken fingers and french fries.
She needs to fix this.
Where many feel that fried food is very unhealthy, I maintain that it itsa question of quantity control. We could all have a occasional treat but wew have as a nation forgotten limits.
Her brain was fried. She had spent the last several hours trying to put her experience down on paper and all she had left in her was a sigh of relief. When did words become hard and when did time stand still? She had a dead line to meet and she was not sure if she was going to make it. Could she muster up more words?
I’m fried. I’m tired. It’s the ninth day of the new semester and I’m already behind, basically in everything. No motivation. My grandfather’s death and then two months of work a week after final exams have left me drained and sort of dead inside, and that has yet to go away. So instead of work, I sit here, typing this, wondering what my plans are and when I’m going to feel less fried. Less braindead.
She went downstairs and slammed ger headon the table. It was kind of ironic, though. She thought that it would be impossible to get fired as a fry cook…..she wasn’t fired….she was fried….
I like fried chicken, it is delicous. i like donuts they are better. i tried fried kool-aid at the fair, it was really weird and too sweet! bleck.
Fried is usually good to eat but bad for you and not as healthy. You can make many fried foods such as Top Ramen. My boyfriends sister made amazing fried Top Ramen with many spices and this spice it came with. Yum!!!
I woke up, surprised by my husband with a nice breakfast. He presented me with two perfectly, fried eggs, still in the pan and a class of orange juice with some toast on the side. I asked “Why?”
“Fried. My brain is fried. Like, literally. Like now.” Monica moaned. She threw one hand over her forehead in the perfect imitation of drama.
I resisted the urge to swat her with an oversized throw-pillow. “You think your brain is fried? How do you think I feel? I’m not the one who put her summer homework off until the very, very last day in the whole-”
“okay, okay, I get it. I’m sorry.” She rolled over and buried her head in the remaining pillow on the sofa. “Fine. I’ll never do it again. Cross my heart and-”
“You’re going to college next year.” I scoffed. “They don’t give you summer homework.”
“Then why does-”
“I don’t know why your high school does. It’s weird. Only you would pick a weird high school to attend. Now come on, I have to get back home and put dinner in the oven before Mom gets there.”
“Why can’t your dad do it?”
I fixed my almost-ex-best friend with the best glare I could muster.
Her face pinked a few seconds later as her brain caught up to her mouth. “Oh.” Her words were muffled in the pillow. “He’s working late too, isn’t he? Sorry…really, I’m sorry. Like I said, my brain is fried.”
“That’s not the only thing that’ll be fried…” I whacked her with the pillow. It made me laugh.
we sat together at our favorite restaurant
we ordered the same thing we always do
fried human flesh
I love fried chicken. I love it a lot. Actualy, I don’t like it very much, or do I? I can’t decide.
I rubbed the butter all over the pan with the knife, watching with fascination as it bubbled and melted. The scent filled the kitchen and warmed my nose. I dropped the thick, juicy slices of zucchini into the pan and stirred them around, flipping them when they were a perfect golden brown. I wrapped them in a paper towel and went to the living room to eat my tasty treat.
Shifting the pan around on the burner, he stared at the bacon hungrily.
“Dude, isn’t this the third time you’ve had bacon? Like, today?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“I think your arteries might be on the brink of mutiny, man. You should probably chill. Eat, like, a banana or something.”
” . . . Can the banana be fried?”
Chicken is an interesting meat. It goes with everything, but it is actually very healthy in comparison to meat like steak. I like chips, however I hate the ones from fast food chain restaurants, because they’re so thin and full of rubbish! However my favourite chips are from Wetherspoon, because they’re so nice and crispy.w
The anticipation was killing him. He laughed. If only death could be so easy. The feel of the iron underneath and the steel stares through the viewing window chilled him to the bone. Soon it would all be over. He’d be dead. He’d pay the ultimate price for killing all those people. He’d burn.
Fried has to do with some foods.
Fried. I feel fried. It’s only been a moth of college, and I am fried. Burnt out. Done. Exhausted. How am I supposed to do this for the rest of my college career? Idk. Not to mention cross country. Not only does that add to the mental strain, but the physical strain. I give up too easily. I need to become stronger. God, be with me.
i like Fried chicken , Fried rice , Fried eggs , Fried fish is good to , Fried
fried chicken. fried food is bad,but good at the same time.
fried pickles are good. french fries are good.
Fried is when they put food under grease and it makes it fried . an example is fried chicken. all you do is fry things to make it fried.
You a fried fry. A burnt piece of food. A fried chicken. A fried rice. A fried toaster. A fried fry. I like a f
Any type of food that is put into oil and left there till its fried or crispy?
fried is type of cooking you can do. you can have fried foods. also a way to say you are really sunburned.
i lke fried chicken and fried rice and fried plantains.there is so much to fry in this world . i dont know what i would do without food being fried.
i like fried chicken and beans.I also like to eat
my brain is fried. my brain isn’t fried from any of the drugs that i’ve taken, any of the chemicals that I’ve been exposed to, or any other reasonable thing. my brain is fried because of the bullshit that I have to deal with every day.
Fried chicken, fried potatoes, everything can be fried. I have even seen fried ice cream. It looks actually great.
I heard a sizzle, and slowly but surely it was followed by a little smoke escaping my laptop. Oh crap. Not again. Not again. I’d let it charge too long. Much much too long. This was the third time this month, third time the circuit had FRIED.
mmmmm fried chicken, ken tucky fried chicken. really hot. spicey. Friedrich Nietsche (can’t spell his name) The philosophy of kentucky fried chicken. … with hot sauce. lashings of descartes.
Fried chicken is really bad for you and pretty gross. Limpy pink chicken pieces lay in a box – squishy and covered in some smelly goo. The goo is leaking through the cheap cardboard and onto the floor of the freezer. Some biddy sticks her hand into the box, maybe drops some on the floor cause those motherfuckers are slippery. Then she throws them in the grill and watches them sizzle away and get a tough scabby skin. When that’s all browned up, it is served to you. And that, my friend, is what you stick into your mouth and eat. Fucking gross man.
Fried eggs are disgusting; sickly yellow, turgid orange, melting pot of unfertilised foetus. What could have been?