Stories

So I found a lot of people in the previous generation to ours have told stories that begin “I had this roommate in college once…”. Those stories usually go on to involve how many games of beer “insert game here” they won, or how many hours consecutively they were awake, or how far to the left of the trampoline they landed. Many of them have to do with something ridiculous to a high quantity, come to think of it…

I am “proud” to say that now I am the roommate in one of those stories.

It all started last night around 10:30. After a number of hours without eating, I finally decided I was hungry enough to stop being lazy (in that way, being lazy is a great / horrible diet plan, but that’s a different story) and cook myself something to eat. Some honey BBQ chicken wings, to be exact. I had seen the pizza menu on the fridge advertising wings, and then I remembered we had some of our own in the freezer.

Knowing everyone else had pretty much just finished eating the Chinese food they ordered, I went ahead and cooked the whole bag. I had my reasons…Mainly that the resealable part of the resealable bag broke when I opened it, and the fact that there was another bag inside threw me off and made me think well, I guess I can’t really reseal the rest of these… A complete fallacy, I know, but it seemed to make sense at the time. I didn’t really think anything was wrong until Will asked, “How many did you make?” and I held up the empty bag and said, “…All of them…?”

“Why would you do that? We all just ate!”

“Oh well.”

18 minutes later, the wings were cooked. I had just finished an event in Forza Motorsport 2 and was ready for a break, so I took all the wings and sat where Will and Lincoln were. Then I ate all the wings. Then I died.

Okay, I didn’t really die. But it wasn’t until later that we found out that it was 2.25 pounds of wings. I suppose it’s less when you consider the massive pile of bones that were left when I was done, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that I ate all the wings. Sad part is, I didn’t have a problem with it until the last 7. And as some of you might know, a rule of food is that if you eat more then 50% of something in one sitting, you’re a pig UNLESS you finish the entire thing, in which case you’re the VICTOR. With this in mind, I drank a can of ginger ale and crawled my way bite by bite through those last 7 wings.

The biggest problem with those wings was that they were mostly goo. Not just the sauce on them, but the chickeny bits themselves. It’s not that they were undercooked, because there were no pink parts, it’s just that they had no fight to them. people without teeth could have put up a good fight against these wings.

But yeah, goo. When you put that much chicken goo into your stomach, your stomach gets pissed off. And it’s neat, because it’s not even a discomfort from your stomach. It’s more from like the lung region. It’s like your stomach is so full and busy trying to deal with all the bullshit you just put into it, that your lungs have to pass you the message that you’re a dumb shit.

Feeling a bit naseous, I knew I had to act fast. I had paul pass me the last of the V8 Splash (seeing as how I was unfit to move to the fridge under my own power) and I finished that off as well. The idea behind this was that the chicken goo was bad for me, so I had to negate it by pouring on something that was good for me. It’s just like neutralising a powerful acid with a powerful base. GREAT PLAN, HUH? So I just gave up and lied on the floor. 15 minutes later I wake up and am feeling good enough that I go to bed for real.

The part of this that makes it a great story, is that it can be exaduratded. I almost drank an entire 3 liter of cola instead of the V8. It would have been epic, but I knew I couldn’t handle that. But it still led to speculation of how the story could be more epic. Sitting at a table one evening, a child is asking for a third serving of food, and you begin to tell the tale…

“You know, I had a roomate in college once. One night he was hungry so he decided tohave something to eat. He ate all the food in the house, and then DIED.”

…and then that child has anorexia problems in life. But I digress.

Last night I ate an entire bag of wings by myself, and now even 12 hours later my stomach is still calling me an idiot.

College has some really fun parts.

F*R*A*G: This is by far the most adorable car ever made. Even the liscense plate says AWWWW!