if you want to do a party right, you better have a southern belle in charge. i don't mean "right" like standing against a wall, wringing your hands, hoping-everything-is-going-to-turn-out, kind of feeling, but that "right" that means the party, the food, the drink, the guest list was nailed, your guests are suffused with a joy and happiness that only this singular event, this event that was put together by you, created. i don't have any sense of what it takes to make a party. my party ideas mostly revolve around the 3 bs: beer, bourbon, and big fire. but, i'm married to a southern belle. and she knows stuff. valuable party stuff. she knows enough to call in the chicken salad chick . i was sent inside for 3 pounds of jalapeno holly. "wha?" i said. "they name their different chicken salads," my wife said. i looked over the menu. i name stuff in my life too--my dogs have names, my truck has a name. i have a name for myself when i do or say something egregiously stupid (and it almost matches my wife's names that she calls me), and i have a different pet name for my wife for each mood that she glides through. she doesn't necessarily like pet names, but i think most husbands have a pet name for their wife that were he to stop calling her by that name, she would be secretly devastated. during the holiday season, my wife's pet name is the big list. i don't mess with the big list during holiday season. inside the chicken salad chick restaurant is this picture: apparently these are the namesakes of the different chicken salads that the chick offers. very cutesy, although i'm sure that guy standing in the back, if he was thinking about opening the chicken salad dude might name things differently--maybe jalapeno holly to jalapeno jim or jack. kickin' kay lynne with buffalo sauce, ranch dressing, bacon, cheddar cheese and jalapenos to kickin' kay lynne and her sister's ass. i know that's what he would be thinking, standing there, because that's what i would b