Almost nothing in life, outside of actual human affection, makes me happier than a big bucket of chicken. Since I started my diet over a year-and-a-half ago, I have not had one big bucket of chicken. I still struggle with bouts of anxiety and depression, but whenever I see a KFC commercial, I am fleetingly and overwhelmingly happy for about 30 seconds. I need to either eat a big bucket of chicken at least once a week, or watch like an extended hour long KFC commercial every night.

I’m still able to satisfy my food cravings weekly, as I typically go off my strict diet on weekends and special occasions. Big buckets of chicken always seem too decadent, though. Also, the closest KFC is at least 20 miles away. By the time I bring it home it will be all soggy. I guess I’ve associated KFC with fat Jeremy and not KFC with skinny Jeremy, but damn, I need a big bucket of chicken right now. I am not forgetting about the sides. I’ll be damned if I’m going to eat a big bucket of chicken without mashed potatoes and coleslaw.

Back in college, my friend and I would get a big bucket of chicken, a 24 pack of Red Stripe, and watch a marathon of The X-Files every Thursday night. By about 10 pm I would feel miserably full, drunk, and would become unreasonably upset that Scully wouldn’t believe Mulder at the beginning of every episode, yet he always proved that he was right by the end.

I usually try to connect my inane post to something with a deeper meaning, but I just want chicken. KFC is one of the biggest fast food chains in the world. Maybe you can open within Houston city limits. There’s like eight million Popeyes within a quarter mile radius of my house. Somebody please explain this to me.