Banger in the mouth



“Right, I forgot, here in the States, you call it a sausage in the mouth.”

Flying Food


I might have been a little hard on the airport in my last post. The awful part is really just getting into the place. Once you’re there it’s heaven. Well, it’s a dirty, crowded, uncomfortable heaven, but it’s still heaven. The reason, you ask? It’s because there’s nothing to do in the airport except eat.

The airport’s basically a high-security food court, so waiting for your plane is like official permission to spend all of your time eating. I don’t even mind lay-overs. In fact, sometimes the part of my vacation that I look forward to most is eating breakfast at the airport. The Seattle airport has a Qdoba and the breakfast burritos are great.



Today I decided to step up my normal Beto’s routine by going one step greasier: the Chimichanga. I assumed that it would be the normal fatness of a Beto’s burrito, but deep fat fried. I was, sadly, disappointed. Not with the chimichanga itself, because it was very good. I was disappointed by the fact that it seemed slimmer, and was trimmed with vegetables. I think a normal burrito from that place has more lard on the inside than could be soaked up by a simple tortilla shell, so the chimichanga just couldn’t match up.
So this evening I decided to make up for the lack of fat with my first multi-restaurant experience. I went to Denny’s and ordered a cup of their country gravy, and then I went to Beto’s and got a California burrito, which I covered (and smothered) in the gravy before eating it.
If heaven were a burrito, it would be smothered and covered.

I can hear you getting fatter


I looked at myself in the mirror today after I had a Twix ice cream bar for the dessert of my second Beto’s meal of the day. I think I could see myself getting fatter. I haven’t been in front of a mirror for a few hours, but at the rate I was going, I should look about like this by now.

Food experts needed


I’ve been seeing these billboards for McDonald’s, advertising their new chicken sandwiches. I don’t go to McDonald’s a lot, but those sandwiches just looked so good that I couldn’t help it.
I had the Chicken Club, and I have to say that I was disappointed. The old chicken sandwich was just a processed meat patty. I like the processed meat better. It’s always the same consistency and always tender and juicy.
So this gets me thinking. What’s wrong with processed food? I mean, it’s got such a bad rep, but why? I have no idea why it’s considered bad for me. For that matter, I don’t understand what all the hype (good or bad) is behind organic foods, preservatives, or even fresh foods. What kind of motivation do I have to eat “healthy” when I don’t know why these things are considered healthy at all?
I could draw some kind of analogy between this and other areas of my life, but I think I’ll keep that to myself.

Pledge of Allegiance


There’s never been much competition between Coke and Pepsi for me. Dr. Pepper gives it a run for its money, but can never completely over-take it. You know how sometimes you go in to a restaurant and order a Coke, and the lady says, “Is Pepsi ok?” and you’re like, “No,” and hope that they have Dr. Pepper? Yeah, I’m sure everyone knows that feeling.
We went to the Coca-Cola museum in Atlanta. Really, the museum is a collection of every Coke advertisement that has ever been created, and there are bits of history sprinkled throughout, mostly just to explain the changes in the propaganda. By the time we got through the second room I’d already been completely convinced that Coca-Cola was the best product ever invented. As I became further indoctrinated by the rest of the museum, I started to make plans to show my newly increased loyalty to Coca-Cola. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to drink the once-beloved Dr. Pepper again. I’d use Coke on my breakfast cereal. Eventually I’d phase out water, too (even though that could lead to the painful state where my urine would be carbonated).
There is a tasting room at the end of the self-guided tour of the museum. They have almost every variety of drink that Coke makes, all available to try for free. My first cup of Coca-Cola Classic was oral heaven. I’m sure that it tasted only as good as every other Coke I’ve ever had, but I doubt it had ever been received with such an emotional attachment. I moved on through all of the varieties of diets and caffeine-frees, and then on the other Coke drinks, like Barq’s and Sprite. By this fifth marginal cup of soda, I’d lost the initial satisfaction, but there were other drinks to try: Tab, Pibb, Poweraide, Minute Maid, and every other aid you could think of were there to be tested. I couldn’t let the opportunity pass by, so I tried them all. By the time I was finished, I’d begun to feel disgusted towards soda and I didn’t want any more for quite a while. Then I saw the international room.
A whole second tasting room, this one with varieties of drinks that were available in other countries, totaling more than the varieties of the first room. I felt obligated, pushed on my ingrained love of the Coca-Cola company, and so I tried all of these, too. I’d already had more soda than I could still be enjoying, but it didn’t help matters that Coca-Cola has an obvious dislike of foreign countries. I mean, why else would they force such horrible flavors on them? They must have run out of fruit-based flavors, because they had Fanta flavored like seeds and nuts and what must have been some kind of tree bark. The Italian brand (I think it was called “Beverly”) was so bitter that I had to use the lychee nuts to wash the flavor out of my mouth.
When we left the museum I felt so sick to my stomach that I didn’t think I could ever drink anything ever again. After a few hours I realized I was wrong and I saw that I needed a Coke, but I drank water for the rest of the day, so I’d say that after all was said and done, the propaganda overload and its back-fire cancelled each other out, and I don’t think that any permanent damage was done. Only time will tell if the tide was changed in the battle between Coca-Cola and Dr. Pepper. Maybe next time that a restaurant serves Pepsi I’ll just leave and go eat somewhere else.

Coke Loyalty

Just an experiment


This week Ronnie and I are doing the vegetarian challenge. Tyler says that being a vegetarian isn’t something that you can just do for a week and then forget about, because it’s a big decision that must be weighed out carefully. He says that it’d be like turning gay for just a week. Well, he may be right that this is the first time that vegetarianism has become a one-week challenge, but we’re still committed to it. For a week.
So today I was driving around looking for a place to eat lunch. It was really hard decision, since (a) I’d never had to choose a place based on whether it was meatless, and (b) I was really hungry, and it was hard not to just get a burger.
I decided to go to the Pita Pit. I’d never been there before and it seemed like the kind of place that would be veggie-friendly. I had a falafel pita. My coworkers were all shocked and horrified, having heard that falafels were the grossest food ever, but I really liked it. It was hearty and satisfying and really good. It might become my favorite restaurant this week.

Chinese Buffet


There’s this restaurant in Lakewood (CO) called the Great Wall. It’s a buffet with Chinese, Mongolian, and Japanese food. It’s sick (and I don’t mean that the way that the snowboarders say it). They have all kinds of exotic foods like crawfish and sushi and frog legs. I think food that exotic can’t possibly be good if it’s offered at all-you-can-eat quantities.
For some reason my dad and his wife think this place is great, so they go there every time there’s a reason to go out. We went there for Father’s Day. I pretended that I didn’t mind even though I got sick the last time that we went there. I just ate the beef on-a-stick and the rolls. That was safe enough. I did put a crawdad in the urinal, though.
On a side note, Troy’s fortune read, “Genius is nothing but an aptitude for patience.” I think that makes him mildly retarded.

Biggie Size


I saw “Supersize me” last weekend. At first, as I was watching it, I thought that the guy was a huge weenie: I mean, he couldn’t even finish his Double Quarter-pounder. What a wimp. But by the end of the movie I was feeling sick myself. You know that feeling when you’ve been sitting around all day not doing anything but maybe watching TV and eating Doritos, and you just feel gross and greasy. Well, maybe I’m the only one that knows that feeling, but that’s how I felt just watching this guy eat so much McDonald’s. I almost haven’t been able to eat all week.
But today I went to Wendy’s and ordered the biggest chicken sandwich that’s ever been deep-fat-fried: the Wild Mountain Spicy Chicken. AND Wendy’s still does the Biggie size. So I guess I’m over whatever that movie convinced me of.


Easter candy is the best kind. I think they should give it away at Halloween and Christmas, too. Or if they won’t do that, maybe next Easter I’ll dress up as Jesus and go around Easter morning saying trick or treat to see if people will give me their kids’ candy.
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