This post of Og's reminds me of a story that my family tells about my father's younger days. Back when my father was in high school, (back when a high school education was actually an education instead of rote indoctrination), he took a biology class where they had to dissect a chicken.
Yes, I chicken. No, I don't know why.
Now, to add a little back story on to this - my father's family was poor. Damned poor. Thursday night was fried chicken night, and each child (I think there were six or seven at that point) got exactly two pieces of chicken, plus a baked potato. Well, for a growing boy in highschool, that just didn't cut it. But economics being what they were, Dad wasn't going to just have fried chicken fall out of the sky and on to his plate.
So when the biology class started naming all the parts of the chicken, Dad took note. Literally. He memorized the names of every muscle, every tendon, every ligament, and every bone that a chicken has. He became an expert on the various body parts of the chicken. Had it down pat.
And then came Thursday night. The fried chicken night. So dad is munching on his chicken, leans over to his sister who has quite the squig factor, and begins to explain to her the various muscles, tendons and ligaments in the piece of chicken she was eating.
My aunt, according to the reports of the family who were there at the time, turned quite the spectacular shade of green, and slowly pushed her plate away from her, at which point Dad inquired if she was feeling well, and since she wasn't, would she mind if he took her chicken? My aunt didn't even want to see any food that that point agreed. And Dad got his free chicken.
There was only the one sibling that worked with, but Dad was almost guaranteed an extra piece of chicken for a month, after which the sibling changed spots on the table.