We Are Like Chicken

My friend Sam had a birthday party last night and I used the opportunity to brag about my Oktoberfest war wound. I'm proud of it—is that weird?

I was telling someone how I saw flesh during the big accident and it wasn't what I expected. I expected us to be pink inside, a little like beef, but we're more like chicken, kinda white and fibrous.

Yeah, this is gross, I know.

Having seen the inside now, I have to wonder. Since we're not poultry, what are we? Are we more like pork?

PS - Please drop by Sam's blog and wish him a happy birthday. He's 30 now, a real man.

PPS - Just so you know, Sam's girlfriend Kristina has nothing to do with that gross website he mentions in his most recent post. Poor Kristina... I would never tolerate the abuse.