My boyfriend decided a few months ago that owning a rotisserie would be the best thing since sliced bread. He has been on the hunt for one ever since...which means that I have been dragged into the hunt as well. Earlier this week, he called me to share his happiness over the rotisserie he picked up on Craigslist for a mere $25. I was then required to stop by his house Thursday afternoon to coo over this appliance. I've never cooed over an appliance in my life! And no, I did not coo. Instead, I watched him coo and smiled like a good girlfriend. I then received my marching orders for the weekend. (Did I mention this man is a Marine?) My job was to head to Vons to purchase a whole chicken (on sale), prepare, and marinade it. When he comes home on Sunday night, he is bringing the glorious rotisserie to my house for the chicken.
Today I did the deed. I went to Vons and because it was such a good deal, I purchased not 1 but 2 of these chickens. I was thinking ahead. We could cook one and freeze the other! I was very pleased with my foresight.
Things were going good until I opened the chicken up and looked inside. Crap! What the heck is this stuff and what do I do with it? The only thing to do was to call my mom. So I called her. Of course she asked, "What possessed you to buy a whole chicken?" So I re-told her the story of the rotisserie (It's not like I didn't tell her about it last night or anything!) She informed me that I had to stick my hand in and pull out the neck, heart, and other wonderful surprises. So while still on the phone with her, I stuck my hand in and pulled (and squealed). It was the grossest thing I have ever done (surprisingly, kid vomit is no big deal to me but this is). The insides felt smooth, cold, and squishy. Weirdest combination ever! My mother laughed and said, "I wish I could've seen your face!" Did I fail to mention that my cat, Harry, was sitting quietly watching me and looking very confused? Needless to say, I was so relieved when it was all over. I thanked my mom (who was still laughing) and hung up. Then...I turned the chicken over. CRAP!!! To my sheer horror the neck was still attached. I tried tugging at it but it wouldn't budge. So...I called mom again. She answered with, "Let me guess, the neck is still attached?" "Yes, what do I do? It's not coming off!" I said. She told me to cut it off and that this is exactly the reason why she NEVER cooks a whole chicken. She also said that I better tell my boyfriend to prep his own chickens from now on. I fully agree with this.
The marinade part was simple. I put some pepper, garlic salt, marinade, and orange peel. I hope he likes it and appreciates my ordeal! It is soaking up the juices in the fridge and should be delicious tomorrow when he takes over. That my friends is a wrap! 
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