Dear teen moms, chocoholics and anyone currently wearing Burt’s Bees,
I would like to preface this entry with just a little background information. In my late teens to early “comfortable in this four year relationship” twenties, I consumed food like it was going out of style. A bottle of red wine looked like a juice box to me. A large cheese pizza, unlike the one Kevin ordered for himself in Home Alone which he probz wrapped some up and put in the fridge for breakfast, slid down my gullet with the ease of an Ellios personal pizza.
And there may have been a time I embarrassed people I somehow convinced to eat at a buffet with me, by wiping a few trays out of stock.
Okay maybe twice.
Anyway the point is I was a hangry teen boy and I ate my feelings and coped with life by pretending salty snacks and unlimited whatever’s for $9.99 weren’t going to hurt my body.
Which is why I weighed like 260 pounds.
Yadda yadda yadda, throw a break up in the equation, some body issues and self loathing, and I was ready to get my posterior into shape. And also pants. That were smaller.
And so I did. But unfortunately, my ability to consume food like an asshole has been known to rear it’s ugly and overdone head.
Please note the following film titles that were recently released were actually written about me:
‘Just because you can eat all the sushi doesn’t mean you have to’
‘The never-ending pasta bowl is not a food challenge’
‘That Guy: ordering 8 rounds of endless apps at Fridays’
And so, while you were all snuggled tight in your cubicles at work or dumping ice on your head this past month to raise awareness for ALS, I was doing something so unproductive with my time it may actually be the most senseless thing I’ve ever done.
Last month I packed my bags with all of my size medium t shirts and 32′ waisted pants to visit the wonderful land of Tennessee.
Note those sizes kids, because in a week, everything will change.
Yes! A wonderful vacation with the all knowing and ever beautiful gf (mom, this means girlfriend) of mine at her mother and stepfather’s abode.
We were welcomed to the state by all of the beauty that the ol’ smokey mountains and teeth missing natives had to offer, and settled down for a nine day stay at an a-frame cabin just outside of Alcoa.
A small summary of Tennessee (or the part I was in) for those that have never been, in terms of what you see from the car:
Lots and lots of trees.
$20 tattoo store. Attached to a gas station.
Gas: $3.12. (New York, eat a dick)
More bigger guns!
Church related building.
(20 minutes later)
Now, I will say that I had a blast, and the hospitality was great. Nashville is a hoot and honestly I didn’t have to hear that fucking ‘I’m ready’ song on the radio once because if you don’t listen to country out there, you’re a foreigner or just visiting from some place like Maine or New Hampshire.
But one thing that is abundant in this state is food. And it’s good food.
I’m talking beef jerky that tastes so flavorful, but is so spicy it could cause you to black out on the toilet but reach for another piece when you wake up.
I’m talking mexican restraunt after Mexican restraunt.
Salsa and chips until your balls fall off.
Unless you don’t have balls.
Then just salsa and chips.
But like my last vacation that took me all the way to the land of crazy decisions on so many levels in Portland OR, I wanted to challenge myself.
Luckily gluttons for punishment (literally in this case) like myself, there is a website called EatFeats where you can look up food challenges by state and city.
Well wouldn’t you know about thirty minutes outside of our vacationing town was a wonderful challenge I knew I had to do. So Maggie, me, her sister and her sisters boyfriend Angel (which we all learned translates loosely to ‘Little Bitch’ in English) ventured to settle at a table for optimal internal destruction.
The Chubby Burger challenge can be found at the Hot Rods 50’s Diner and this place was fantastic, wall to wall memorabilia and televisions playing show intros from long ago. Regardless the walls were also covered with a smattering of my fellow former competitors and their ‘accomplished’ times.
Long story short I was about to attempt to eat a stupid amount of food (33 oz. Burger and 1 lb. of French Fries) and join them on the wall.
We placed our orders, and I asked our waiter, some guy that looked like he walked out of a Good Charlotte video and into this wonderful diner, what the record was and he muttered something about six minutes and someodd seconds.
That was my goal. That was the glory I wanted to achieve.
And so after we ordered, this is the thought process that followed during the course of my epic food challenge:
Ok Alex we got this. Six minutes is nothing. All these people on the wall are inferior to you. Your gut can demolish their times.
Is this crazy? Should I do this? My friends are always amazed at how my stomach holds some things. That means I should.
Or are they worried for me?
If they’re worried should I do this?
What if I die? That would be the worst kind of impression to make in front of the girlfriends family.
‘Hi I’m Alex. I love your daughter. Wanna see me stroke out at a novelty diner over a novelty burger?’
The girlfriend seems proud. Her eyes are wide.
Maybe gauging my heart rate.
Oh good the waiter is making his way over. I’m actually pretty hungry now that I think about it.
Despite the fact this is my second lunch-ish today.
Whatever he has our food it’s time to sack up.
Who the fuck ordered a Mack truck?
Quick. Come up with a course of action! All your years of watching Man v. Food sitting on your ass have prepared you for this.
Why the fuck does he have a stopwatch? This is THAT legit?
We’re not gonna ballpark the time thing?
Angel looks hungry as fuck.
I’m glad he’s doing the challenge too. I feel like someone else eating this much food makes me look slimmer somehow.
But what if he beats me? He’s already established his place in this family.
They like him…
You have to force dominance down everyone’s throats. Show everyone how much bigger your di…
…appetite. Show them how much bigger your appetite is.
Make sure they all know you’re gonna make this food your goal for the next few minutes and when you’re done you’re going to look like king of the fucking jungle.
You are fucking Beyonce.
Now who feels comfortable in their own skin? Huh?
You do Alex.
Ok, course of action. Don’t let them throw you off again. Cut the patties in half.
Good. Now eat the first four patty halves. Don’t bother chewing much. You’re a man.
You’re a pro at swallowing.
Don’t say that out loud.
Shit this burger tastes good.
Stop, you’re wasting time dwelling on flavor.
This burger is bland! Think cardboard! Just swallow faster.
That’s what she said.
Okay! The last patty!
Make the burger a burger now! Eat that shit whole and then you just have fries in the home stretch.
Shit you’re eating so fast. You’re the best. You’re the alpha male here!
Angel hasn’t even made a dent in his burger! And he looks full!
Damn Alex, you are so fucking attractive right now. You should get a time check you might beat the record!
Time check! Where the fuck is that waiter! Shouldn’t he be watching closely to make sure I don’t like, shove the burger in my pants and fake the win or something?!?
Hey waiter! Bring your stopwatch daddy needs a time check!
Well thats okay! Now you might not barf, you can slow down!
Woo hoo! You finished the actual burger! You’re a king!
I wish I had a mirror so I could watch myself eat this burger.
If I had a mirror though I wouldn’t be able to see Angel across the table though.
Look at that little bitch across the table, taking little bitch bites.
Wait, is his girlfriend making fun of him?
Did she just call him a little bitch out loud?
Fucking awesome Alex, you look so good right now! Ugh! Don’t stop compounding the problem with more cheese and grease!
Let’s deal with these goddam French fries now!
Squirt ketchup and mustard all over them! Flavor changing tactics are officially your niche!
Do a fist pump to celebrate your milestone!
Left arm won’t move?
I wonder why my left arm is numb.
Am I supposed to feel light headed?
Don’t get side tracked.
Maggie is so proud of you. She didn’t call you a little bitch once! Look at her holding back tears of joy for you.
Maybe she’s trying not to vomit?
Either way, no girl has ever looked at us like that before Alex.
Except Melissa that morning you ate the pound of bacon by yourself in the garage.
And the time you took your tinder date to the Capital Buffet.
And the time that you worked at the pizza shop and burnt the one pizza but only the center and the rest was fine and so you ate the whole thing because who the hell are they to say you can’t do anything with that pizza just throw it away hell no don’t throw it away you just eat it yourself and cover it in bleu cheese fuck the world you’re a pizza eating god.
Ok so maybe a couple of times.
These French fries are cold what is this shit? Whatever just eat them with a fork.
Wait. This mustard tastes horrible on these.
Who the fuck dips French fries in mustard.
I’m either full or I have a large mass growing inside of me.
Maybe I’m pregnant?
Oh my god I can’t raise a child…I do food challenges for fun…what kind of parent would I be.
Maggie noticed somethings wrong. We can’t have this baby. I can’t be pregnant. Reassure her everything’s fine.
It must be the food. It’s probably gas.
There’s still a whole plate of fries.
But I can feel the food level inside of me like halfway up my swallow hole.
We have to finish Alex.
You can’t go home defeated. And all eight of these people eating here are counting on you.
They came to see you win.
Or get lunch.
But whatever you can do this. Drink some soda!
Shit that’s good soda.
The carbonation is giving me gas.
We definitely shouldn’t fart right now. Seriously who the hell knows what would happen with this much food inside of you.
You can go to the bathroom when you’re done.
Ah crap I have a cramp.
Rock back and forth. Curl in the fetal position and pretend you’re somewhere relaxing and warm. Like bed. Or Hawaii.
Don’t cry, it’s going to pass.
Everyone is noticing. Your eyes are tearing up. Quick do something tough.
Good. They get the point.
Or their confused.
Either way no one sees the tears.
Six bites left baby you got this.
Why does very bite feel like forty five pounds?
Will they still count it as complete if I’m harboring the last four bites in my mouth because there’s no more space in my throat?
One bite left!!!!!
Left arm still numb. Use the right one! That’s it!
Damn it’s so heavy. Put it in your mouth.
You did it!
You are the fucking princess!
Someone find that guy from Good Charlotte! Tell him I beat his wimpy ass challenge!
Yeah that’s right! Stop that stopwatch.
Stand up for your victory!
Legs not working?
Fuck it, right handed fist pump!!
Look at Angel!
He’s so done.
Now we look really good.
We did so good.
Let’s order a milkshake now.
Let’s further this issue with liquified dairy and pretend we’ll see zero complications come of this.
And that kids, is how I got myself on the wall of fame, became a doctor, won a t shirt, and lost sight of a size 32 waistline to this day.
And I regret nothing.
Still breathing but not sure how,