Party Chicken!

New Year's Eve is always the weirdest time...I'm betting for most of you out there in TV Land that you can probably count on one hand exactly how many GOOD New Year's Eve celebrations that you've actually attended. This year's was no exception. We were invited to a party that would consist of dinner, dessert buffet, a murder mystery game, dancing/karoake, midnight toast with ham/collards/black-eyed peas. On the surface, this sounds great, doesn't it? Let's delve a little more deeply into this, shall we? Or, at least we'll hit the highlights...

Dinner - When someone who says they can't cook/doesn't like to cook is offering to have you over for dinner...hope and pray that they are having it catered. Otherwise, you might be presented with the likes of "Party Chicken." Party Chicken consists of some boneless chicken breasts covered in a whitish sauce made of sour cream and maybe cream of mushroom soup and then covered with a jar of shredded dried beef. Dried. beef. I know, I know, it's the 21st century--who the hell uses dried beef in a recipe anymore unless they're a Boy Scout??!! More like jerky chicken...And, it was cold...not room temp, but cold. So, it was sort of like chicken and library paste with a shredded flip-flop for color.

I went searching for a Party Chicken recipe, because it sounded like one of those not-so-fab bad food recipes of the 50s-60s, and sure enough, it is. I did find one site that mentioned it being an "heirloom recipe," handed down through the husband's family. Gaaah! Time to get a new husband! I also got several hits for XXX-rated sites...who knew that "party chicken" was a euphemism for something naughty. In our house, it's going to be synonymous with bad food and interminable evenings with people you don't want to be with ever!

I'm honestly not knocking people who can't cook, because hopefully those people will become part of my customer base, but for heaven's sake, think of your guests!! Barbecued chicken from the local BBQ pit is much more appreciated!

Did I mention that the punch was red Hawaiian Punch? Enough said.

We won't even talk about the side dishes...hell, I can even talk about the rest of the evening without wanting to pull my hair out. Suffice it to say, if you decide to do a murder mystery, buy the freakin' kit and don't let your pompous ass brother-in-law who fancies himself the next Agatha Christie write it hisownself. After sitting through 3.5 hours of "Shhh...be quite people and listen!" "Do you follow me?" "I am the master detective and you are all my assistants!", The Man and I were ready to open a vein. Also, when you write your own crappy murder mystery, make sure you impart ALL the pertinent information to your cast including stupid nicknames that you give the characters but don't bother to tell anyone else about (Alan = Ali--whothehell knew?). I really have run out of words, synonyms, metaphors, onomatopoeias, etc. to describe this evening.

It just went downhill from there...and, there was no alcohol at this party. You read me right--NO ALCOHOL. Probably the only thing that saved Mr. Agatha Christie's life. At midnight, we had crappy sparkling cider and the most tasteless collard greens on the planet. I think they were actually green packing excelsior.

So, needless to say The Man and I have made our own New Year's resolution in which we resolve to have NO MORE CRAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVES! So, if we have to, we are staying home and watching Dick Clark's cryogenically frozen corpse do the countdown, or better yet, we're going to Disney World!!