As a self proclaimed "champion eater," I believe that the path to glory and righteousness is paved with stale Beef Lo Mein and discarded Taquito sleeves. When I finish a meal far before the person I'm eating with, I lean back in my chair while unbuttoning my pants and sit there, in complete judgment of my culinary companion, pitying their baby belly as my gallbladder slowly seeps it's precious emulsifying bile into my digestive tract. "Glory be to Cod in the highest; and on earth pizza, to men, and good swill" - Luke 2:14

Nov 032013


Hey Everyone.

I know it’s been all too long since I’ve posted to this bad-boy, but last night I found myself in the GADAMN dimension once more, but this time rather accidentally.

For whatever reason I really wanted to check out Champps Restaurant & Bar down in the South Philly IKEA shopping center parking lot. Why I wanted to go to an eatery located in a parking lot, I’m not sure, but I wanted to see what it was all about. I quickly realized that it was a sports bar that very much appeals to those people in our area with the thick is-that-jersey/is-that-north-east/is-that-deep-south-philly accent. Every single TV they owned was bigger than any single TV I had ever seen. I swear there was one that was 10 feet, corner to corner. It was a moving picture wall, more than a TV.

We sat and I perused the menu. Thankfully they had all of the calories listed right below the food titles, so I could do some swift calculations on how bad I would feel immediately after the meal. Their “Mile High Nachos” came in at a whopping 3329 calories. That was an appetizer.

I didn’t get it.

… but you better believe me when I say that I wanted to.

The waitress came over and asked us if we wanted any appetizers. “Interesting question!” I said to her and ordered a Patron Lemonade in the meantime. I left the decision up to my fiancé while I trotted off to the bathroom to take a leak. When I walked in I saw, what looked to be, a bright orange-maroon splooge of cat barf all over the sink and the floor. As if some bipedal, four and a half foot cat couldn’t quite make it to the sink after eating an order of nachos all by themselves. The bathroom smelled like some terrible maple syrup flavored pumpkin candle and an automatic oder neutralizer spritzer had a baby and I was smelling that baby’s ass.

When I got back to the table the buzzardly waitress ran up and started grilling me about the appetizers. I said we weren’t going to have any, and we’d just skip right to “the food.” She said “well, maybe dessert then… What’ul ya’ have?”

We both got salads. Shannon’s was the steak salad. Mine was the cobb. There was literally nothing notable about either, other than the wild farts and gut blasting diarrhea I’ve had ever since eating them. Like, I mean, if there was a way for me to embed a fart smell on a website, believe me, I would. You need to know what this smells like.

I had Instagram’d the sign out front (and hashtagged it #gadamn, of course) and a mutual friend responded with “They had one of these shit holes in the concord mall in Wilmington DE. I used to call it Chumps because you’d have to be a naive idiot to pay what they were asking (which for Wilmington, DE was too much!” and immediately “My gentle apologies if you ate there and enjoyed it.” He was so right. If this blog had a rating system, I’d put this place somewhere between Cici’s and the dumpster behind Cici’s.

Anyway, the night concluded with The Adventures Of Buckaroo Bonzai Across The 8th Dimension. The storyline is as follows:

Neurosurgeon/Rock Star/Superhero Buckaroo has perfected the oscillation overthruster, which allows him to travel through solid matter by using the eighth dimension. The Red Lectroids from Planet 10 are after this device for their own evil ends, and it’s up to Buckaroo and his band and crime-fighting team The Hong Kong Cavaliers to stop them.

My fucking god. That movie was doing acid on a mushroom trip inside of a pregnant woman huffing gasoline and shooting mescaline into her eyeballs.

Anyway, John Lithgow plays the villain, Jeff Goldblum plays a character named “New Jersey” and Christopher Lloyd, a character named John Bigboote.

Definitely worth a drunken stare-at, in my opinion.


Apr 012011

* mode*

Ahoy, me dear mateys. Please gather yer ‘salt-blasted hides round while I tell ye an incredible tale. If ye heard bout our last adventures, ye know that we spent time comb’n th’ depths o’ th’ briny deep in search o’ buried treasure at Red Lobster. What a blunderingly glorious feast! A meal fit fer a king! I would give aloft me parrot if I were able t’ eat this unseaworthily ere moon.

*1950’s radio announcer mode*

We here at GADAMN make sure we bring you the very best in complaining. Sure, we could go to Zagat™.com, find a real nice place – a place fit for “normals” or “pinks” – and tell you about how pinkly and good it is…but where’s the fun in that? YOU, sir or ma’am, want the very best in complaints! You thrive on negativity and need more and more of it to live a normal life! Thank God you’re here!

* CurdoTone®*

So there I was: my turn to pick the next restaurant and I was going up against Niquisha’s previous selection. Red Lobster. The one place everyone absolutely loved (followed by Zardoz, the one movie everyone absolutely hated, but that’s besides the point). I had to choose right. I had to make the right choice. I had to… I had to choose CiCi’s All-You-Can-Fucking-Stuff-In-Your-God-Forsaken-Noise-Hole Pizza Buffet!

Go ahead. Click the link. Their website fucking talks to you!

Immediately I realized that I could not let Dreams know where we were going before he got out of the car and saw what horrible fateful iconic sign was sure to be staring down at him like a tremendous, demented cartoon sun, smiling and passing by overhead in slow motion as he falls to his knees, mouth open wide, teeth showing, yelling and beating his chest like a sliverback gorilla (also in slow motion), extending his arms to heaven, spitting and cursing whatever God above him for having ever meet me in the first place as I stand in the distance, squinting and maniacally rubbing my hands together. At least that’s how I envisioned it all happening.

The reason being that he and I had already been to a CiCi’s before and he knew of the horrors that awaited him.

What really happened is I fucked up 2 days before we left while inviting Sean and Mark from Fat History Month who were down at the Sex Dungeon mixing their new album for the week. I just blurted out “Hey, are you guys going with us for our god-awful dinner and movie night? We’re going to CiCi’s All-You-Can-Eat Piz….. zzzaaaa… bu….. ffet…” They didn’t even ask “Where are you guys going?” I just fucking said it.

And Dreams was upset. Oh boy, was he ever, but it had no where near as many explosions as I had wanted.


I had been working all day (gasp! I know!) so when 6:30PM rolled around, I had no idea where the time had gone, but i had every idea of what was about to happen to my insides. A wonderful thing. I need to explain that Pizza (and you’ll notice the capitalization) is extremely important to me. Without Pizza I would die, as it makes up a large percentage of where I get whatever nutrients my body consumes that aren’t provided by the beer I drink. The only way we could be closer would be if Pizza had somehow saved my life at one point or another. Maybe it did?

It would be the Fantastic Four tonight. Not the movie – I’m referring, of course, to the four horsemen of GADAMN. We were supposed to be joined by Don, Sean + Mark and Jare, but I suppose that they managed to rethink the offer. I mean, all-you-can-eat-pizza sounds great on paper… but common.

I knew it was gonna be a pooper (pun definitely intended), but I was trying to keep the spirit of the night alive! Gotta make sure we don’t get too cushy on our beds of beautiful steak drizzled in parts of sea-living creatures. Glorious. Anyway, while we were driving there the heat of the day hadn’t yet warn off and we all had our windows down. Right inside of Camden we were hit with, what I had described as, “the smell of a fat man’s insides.” It was a monster.

We took a few wrong turns but eventually ended up right where we needed to be…

…this face said it all…

I was excited at least. And fuck me, you can’t beat all-you-can-eat anything for $5.99. I would go to a dog shit buffet for that price! But then again, after having actually been to Fec… er… CiCi’s, maybe I wouldn’t patronize another dog shit buffet.

Let me tell you now: dog shit doesn’t taste good.

Some pre-mixed, bacon bit encrusted, Ranch dressing soaked green crunch, two wet butter-sticks, four pieces of what seemed like pizza and a little tasty spinach square. Nothing tasted too bad to eat, for me at least, but nothing tasted good… except for the slice of only BBQ sauce and the desserty apple pie pizza. It certainly lacked a train ticket to Flavorton, but that didn’t stop me from eating 15 fucking slices of it, not counting the that little fucker right there or the bite of lemon custardsemen pizza I had.

That was the damage right there. Would you look at that shit? I certainly got our money’s worth but at the cost of a friendship. I don’t think Dreams will ever forgive me.

… it certainly rhymes with feces for a reason.

I guess all I can say was the pizza was bad, sure, but there were so many people there eating it that upon recalling the experience I realize that maybe I’m just a pizza snob. I mean, it is the main source of nourishment in my diet, so I’d like to think that i’m a bit of a connoisseur.

The Room (of sheer insanity)

When I was a younger boy, being taught the ways of terrible movies by the best – my uncle, coupled with the Mystery Science Theater 3000 cast – I would ask my uncle, “Al? Why don’t Joel/Mike, Tom and Crow make fun of movies like Plan 9 from outer space? It seems right up their alley.” The answer? “Well, my dear nephew, that’ would just be toooo easy.”

So, after much deliberation I’ve decided NOT to pick apart and openly mock this film, leaving the job to the professional of our group – our very own Niquish. She’s a film student and will tell the tale of this terrible televised travesty much better than I… But I will say this… I didn’t trust Denny.

He looked like the kind of kid that ate other kids.

Feb 202011

Get Your $40 Sea Cockroaches!

Last night was a very special G.A.D.A.M.N. night. Niquisha, Dreams, Maahk and I were joined by Jare, Banji, Leahg, Don and Dandy making last night the biggest G.A.D.A.M.N. experience ever! Hoates yes!

The choice of eatery was Niquisha’s to make and she chose Red Lobster.

But not just any Red Lobster – the Red Lobster on The Boulevard. You see, we all realized that Red Lobster ISN’T a God Awful establishment – like your typical Hooters or any buffet that prides itself on it’s low prices. Therefore, to make it truly awful, we decided to pick one located in an area that strikes fear into the hearts of normal, true Philadelphians. No, I’m not talking about New Jersey. I’m talking about “The Norfeast” (or “NOR_HEAST,” as the sign on the mall across the street proudly displayed).

The only member upset about Niquisha’s decision was Dreams. Not because he hates North East Philadelphia more than anyone else in the group, but because he had, until recently, spent the majority of his adult life working as a fishmonger (a word I’ve always wanted to use in a sentence – sorry Dreams). Dreams’ taste in seafood is nothing short of a cut above since he’s had it all. One of my greatest pleasures in life is hearing Dreams about fish with someone who thinks they know what they’re talking about. Like the people who think the best sushi in the world comes from the Mexican bodega down the block. It was actually the inclusion of the horrid location that finally won Dreams over. If he would be forced to eat shitty seafood, it would have to be at the shittiest place we could find.

Alas, the only shitty part of the night was the wait, which was a little over an hour, but that wasn’t their fault. We were a party of nine on a Saturday night at a fine eating establishment – what would you expect?

Truly, I’m having a hard time with this post since there was virtually nothing to bitch about…

The Top-Shelf Long Island Iced Teas Jare, Banji and I enjoyed were only a dollar more than the Yingling Lagers that Maahk and I had enjoyed while we were waiting for our table. The Lobster Nachos were incredible and the lobster cheese sauce they came coated in was a perfect complement to the already-cheesy-as-hell biscuits that they just didn’t stop bringing to us. By the time the entrees made it to us, I was totally stuffed on cheesy cheese and cheese soaked bread and cheese and more cheese. First came Leahg’s snow crab legs, then Banji’s Steak-n-Shrimp, then the Spicy Cajun Chicken Alfredos for Niquish and Maahk, Jare’s Steak-and-Lobster, Don’s Angels on Horseback, followed by Dandy and Dream’s shrimp plates. The waitress finally brought my entree over saying, with a big smile, “and the best for last! The Steak and Seafood Oscar!”

Now, I had thought that I had made the right choice in ordering before she had said anything, but that confirmed it. She knew. I knew… and now the whole table knew – I was the man. I was the man who ordered the best food. I was that guy. This guy was that guy.

Yeah. Suck it.

Truthfully the presentation was awful. It looks as though one of the busboys in the back had been sneaking portions of seafood all night until he had gotten sick right on top of my plate, but oh my god, vomit has never tasted so good! What you’re looking at is a medium-rare, 14 oz NY Strip Steak laying atop a bed of mashed potatoes, soaking in a buttery slather of creamy butter slather, complete with shrimp, lobster and string beans. The first bite was an entire dinner in itself, but I managed to fuck it up, royal, and clean my plate.

Wholly satisfied, we paid our ~$260 check and left, stopping by a Wawa in order to procure coffees, a box of Nerds and an Entimen’s Raspberry Danish Twist – the most fucked up, sweetest thing I have ever eaten.

Zardoz: The Terrible

The movie chosen for the night was the 1974 Sean Connery film Zardoz. It was picked simply because of the following picture, which I’m sure that you’ve seen in your travels through this great wasteland that we call: the internet.

You know what? The picture says it all… That’s all I have to say about that movie. Truthfully, nothing happened – at all. It wasn’t even one of those goodbad movies. It was a badbad movie. If you’re curious about it, then i implore you to watch it. It’s something you should see, but it’s something that you won’t enjoy. At all. If, on the other hand, you are not curious, then you should at least watch this fake opening screen for ZARDOZ: THE VIDEO GAME!

Feb 192011

Friends! Gather around!

Tonight is the night! The next location the GADAMNers chose is Red Lobster, but not just any Red Lobster – a Red Lobster on The Boulevard in the North East: where the women sound like broken fire alarms, the men are dumb assholes and the children are far below average.

Tonight Niquisha, Dreams, Maahk and myself will be joined by a very special guest, Jare!

Edit: … by very special guests, Jare, Banji, Don, Dandy and Leahg!

Jan 212011

Hooters: New Jersey Style

It had been a busy week. A good chunk of it was taken up by a visit from my friend Y2Keith (this guy) who had come down from Queens for a three-day visit. We laughed, recorded at The Sex Dungeon (this place) and just had a grand ol’ time. We also ate. Boy how we ate. The first night we ended up getting Subway AND Taco Bell for dinner before coming home to Banji who was making home-made macaroni and cheese. The next night we got a veggie platter, pita and hummus (seriously) then topped it off with 4 boxes of more macaroni and cheese, THEN topped THAT off with soft pretzels dipped in 7-11 chili and cheese. Keith and I understand something about gluttony and excess that few other people understand – it’s an unspoken constant of our friendship – if you’re going to do it, do the fuck out of it… then fucking do it some more.

That being said, Keith left on Wednesday and my deepest bowels gave out a big, stinking sigh of relief. “Now I can go back to my regular food-intake level,” thought I, “what joy!” But my joy was premature. I had forgotten about The Good GADAMN.

Last month, during the Pizzeria Uno fiasco, Dreams had suggested that the next GADAMN eatery be a Hooters… but not just any Hooters… a Hooters in New Jersey. Of course we all concurred, I mean, how much weirder can you get without going to a Hooters in Utah where the girls are required to wear thick, woolen turtle-necks and unflattering Dickies work pants? The answer: not much weirder… or so we thought.

Niquisha seemed pretty excited to arrive. I, on the other hand, was gripped with extreme fear as soon as I exited the vehicle. I don’t know if it was the “All You Can Eat Wings on Tuesdays” banner nailed to the outside wall or the fear and anxiety of being a Hooters virgin, but something certainly felt amiss in Maple Shade.

I pushed through the fear and mustered the courage to enter the door directly underneath the orange, glowing sign that seemed to proclaim “you are morbidly overweight and entirely alone.” Upon entry we were told, by three different members of the wait staff to sit wherever we would like. We chose the table that was shaped like New Jersey, complete with the obligatory indication that YOU ARE HERE, in beautiful…

… as though we needed a reminder. Everyone started flipping through their menus. Milton wanted the Fried Chicken Cobb Salad with a side order of curly fries; Maahk, a cheese burger with a side of “naked” chicken wings; Niquisha, a grilled cheese with boneless buffalo wings. All appropriate choices. Good, healthy American choices, no less.

Dreams and I, on the other hand, never made it past the first page of the menu. “50?” he said to me. “Only 50?!” I replied. After some back and forth decided on fifty wings, pickle chips and tater tots, plus the obligatory order of celery and blue cheese with an extra cup of blue cheese. Oh. And beer. Pitchers of beer.

After we placed our order, we sat and observed our surroundings. We had noticed that, much to my disappointment, our waitress didn’t seem interested in us what-so-ever. There was another waitress running around, wrapping her blue business shirt wearing customers around her little finger. She even honed in on the beanie-wearing stoner Jersey kids sitting by the front door… what did we get? Nothin’! She didn’t even go after Dreams, the looker of the group!

Look at him! I mean COMMON! I wanted some serious awkward situations! I wanted to feel some honest-to-god shame for how I chose to spend my Thursday night… But if Hooters taught me anything, it was that I should be careful about what I wish for.

Would you look at that? I got my wish! That platter is made up of wings and “drums,” as their referred to in Hooters Land. I did the math on this one. If each living chicken has, at most, two wings and two legs and if the proportion of wings to legs in this picture are equivalent, then twelve and a half poor, little chickens were harmed in the making of this platter. I just hope Dreams’ human hand does justice to the size of what we had set out to consume, and if it doesn’t just let me drive the point home…

WHAM! Needless to say, we immediately regretted everything. We ordered enough food for 10 people, easily, but since there were only five of us. We were going to have to work overtime.

Very quickly, Dreams and I learned that these wings were about a 1/4 lb each. They were breaded, so the deep fat fryer was able to infuse the meat with grease, then seal it inside the breading making each bite, as Maahk put it, “like eating a Gusher filled with canola oil.” I maybe put down 13 before I had to stop and go stand outside. Dreams managed an extra two on top of what I had eaten. Together, we had realized that the hardest part of the feat was breaking through “The Wall,” which made swallowing the food almost completely impossible. We ate as much as we possibly could, before we started paying close attention to our gag reflexes and were forced to put the food down and stop.

The shit-kicker of it was that I was still hungry but the sight (and smell) of fried food was making my stomach turn. I decided that being hungry would be much better than throwing up all over the filthy toilet in the men’s bathroom, so I officially chose to bow out. We got everything that we didn’t eat on the table boxed. The box that held the wings was exponentially heavier than the three others that held the tots, fries and pickle chips. It made me wonder how the waitress wasn’t struggling in the slightest when she brought out the platter in the first place.

It was time to leave, and thank god for that. We paid the check and left. I almost threw up in the parking lot, but managed to keep it down. We all piled into the car and I, thankfully, was designated to be the navigator and was able to sit in the spacious front seat. Alas, this also meant that I had to sit with the food, the smell of which was overwhelming to my senses. I may have been done with Hooters, but Hooters made it clear that it was in no way finished with me. As i climbed into the passenger seat, I thought I heard a rip followed by the sharp sting of the night air. That’s right. I had split my pants.

Split them wide open, I did. So this trip, in addition to costing an arm and a leg, also cost me the only pair of pants deemed acceptable enough to wear in public. You won this round, Hooters!

During the car ride, I managed to keep the nausea at bay by breathing through my mouth and getting plenty of fresh, freezing air into the car via the window I had opened wide. We had made it back to Philadelphia with a “little” piece of New Jersey in tow.

Taller than my toaster oven. Barely fit in the fridge. But enough about the food. I don’t want to remind myself that I have 10 lbs. of boxed grease downstairs. I kind of just want to haul my refrigerator outside and set it on fire in the street, effectively putting the whole experience behind me forever.


The movie we had chosen, in lieu of Milton joining us on this glorious outing, was a movie that previously had only been suggested in jest. The joke typically goes something like this.

Milton: “What do you want to do tonight?”
Curdo: “I don’t know, man. Wanna watch a movie?”
Milton: “Yeah, fuck it. What movie?”
Curdo: “What about CUBE2: HYPERCUBE?!

Then we laugh and laugh and laugh… but tonight was the night. Tonight, we would finally watch…

It was more incredible than I could have ever imagined it to be. You see, in the first “Cube” a group of seemingly complete strangers wake up inside a cube. Duh. They find out that each cube connects to six other cubes, except the more they traverse the cubes, the more each cube kills off each character them until one final character is left, the character who is mentally handicapped… He crawls out through a duct in a cube and into some unknown white light just before the movie ends. It’s great. It’s just totally, totally awesome.

This one started out almost identically. A few strangers in a cube. They all meet up and are confrontational at first, but then begin to start to help each other through the cube, perpetually looking for an exit. They all at some point realize that everyone in the cube has something to do with a weapons manufacturer called IZON and think that there might be a connection between IZON and the cube. Pretty much the same old song and dance, my friends.

However, the plot and progression of this Cube movie differed from the original on a few key points:

  1. This cube did a piss poor job of trying to kill them. One room had some kind of false wall that fried a guy. One room has a hypercube-turned-hypersphere that chopped up the first Jerry into little pieces (more about the Jerrys in a minute). One room sped up time to a point where the two young “actors” in the “film” died while making sweet, sweet love in anti-gravity.
  2. This cube was chalk full of parallel dimensions, which didn’t do much of anything to the plot nor to the characters themselves, other than allowing the same character to “come back from the dead” when the writers felt it was convenient. We did see, however, in one parallel dimension, the knife-wielding character Simon (more about Simon in a minute) referring to the old-lady character, Mrs. Paley, as a “cunt” mere moments after stabbing her in the back, just before his head was removed by a crystalline structure that protruded from the walls of the cube he was in. That was a pretty cool alternate dimension.
  3. This cube had a partially German, extremely stabby, cannibalistic Private Eye character named Simon who, when he realized that the cube was full of parallel dimensions started stabbing and eating all of the Jerry’s that he could find… but he didn’t stop at Jerry’s. Oh no, no, no. He found another, completely random character in the cube named Rebecca (or “Idiot Face” as we all referred to her while watching the movie) who he also hunted, stabbed and ate as many times as he possibly could. Each time a Jerry would be eaten, he would take and wear the dead Jerry’s wrist watch as a trophy. Each time a Rebecca would be eaten, he would adorn his jacket with another one of her her clip-on IZON-employee laminates. So by the end of the movie, from where I sat, he had eaten a total of four Jerrys and six Rebeccas.

Now cannibalism has always been an “interesting” topic to me, at the risk of quoting George Carlin. Typically, I gauge all cannibalistic activity that I hear of against the most epic cannibal I’ve ever read about, Albert Fish. Albert Fish kidnapped, murdered and ate a 10 year old girl. He then wrote a letter to the mother of the child and delicately explained that it took him 10 days to eat her daughter. An average, healthy weight for a 10 year old girl is somewhere between 65 and 80 lbs. A full grown Jerry was, roughly, 250 lbs. while Idiot Face must have been close to 200 herself!

Based on Fish’s rate of consumption, a full grown man can eat about 5 – 7 lbs of human flesh a day. That would mean that it would have taken Simon approximately 30 to 40 days to consume a single Rebecca, and 35 to 50 days to eat a Jerry… meaning that, during Simon’s stay in the cube, he spent between 300 to 440 days eating human remains. That’s eating human flesh pretty much every day for a year, if not more! Fish also mentioned in his letter that his meat was cooked whereas Simon did not have the luxury of a campfire or conventional oven at his disposal. 300 to 440 days of eating raw, uncooked human flesh while you’re trapped in a cube of unknown origin. Fucking incredible.

This, of course, brings me to my conclusion. I think that they should make a Cube3: ULTRA MEGACUBE (which would technically be Cube4, since they already made a Cube Zero – precursor to the original Cube) where the story just focuses on Simon, living inside one part of the Cube, stabbing and eating anyone who dared enter his cube.

I’ll just leave you with that.

Dec 192010

I’ll be honest. I wasn’t looking forward to this one. Pizzeria Uno was selected to be our next adventure out into the universe of terrible food and sold to the group by Maahk during our “dinner” last month at Ruby Buffet. Mark had said, outloud to us all, that “I don’t think that every place we go should be considered God Awful. I think that we should, maybe, go to a place that we know will be a good place to eat at so that we have something to look forward to.

So he suggested Pizzeria Uno, or – excuse me – UNO Chicago Grill. The same Chicago grill that has an appetizer called “Steak-on-a-Stick.” At the time I had easily agreed to the proposition and truthfully, brother, after having “eaten” at The Ruby Buffet I was willing to go eat at Grover’s Outdoor Dirt Emporium, right off Rt. 66 in Rambo, Pennsylvania.

Dreams had confided in me, before Maahk arrived to pick us up, that he hadn’t “eaten anything you could truthfully refer to as a meal for two days.” That’s the way to do it. Starve yourself. Make yourself want it, then cram yourself full of thick mounds of melted cheese and sauces on everything. I had to take out money at the local 7-11®© and decided to buy him a bag of Doritos™ Brand flavor-blasters… at 8:47PM. That’s his silhouette over there. He’s eating one right now!

I don’t blame him. I was hungry too. In fact, we all were. Maahk had had only an Thompsons® English Muffin©™ and Niquisha and I hadn’t eaten a thing all day. We were all pretty excited to be going to eat, especially pizza. I mean, common. It’s pizza, the greatest invention in human history.

If you loved Pizzeria UNO, you’re gonna really love our bold, fresh new branded logo and name; UNO Chicago Grill. Now, when i think of Chicago, i think of my visit during the Chamomile / Skeletonbreath tour. I think of how we played in a weird rock bar in the back of a Mexican restaurant with the Sass Dragons and some dirty hippies and i was sick as a dog after having eating a Burger King®® Quadstacker™° mere minutes before we played. We watched those hippies hug a fucking tree later that night. Bats flew out of the tree…

So now you know, i have negative connotations toward the word “Chicago” going into this. If you didn’t realize, the Quadstacker is, as described so appropriately by Milton, “bun-meat-cheese-meat-cheese-meat-cheese-meat-cheese-BACON!!!-bun.” I mean, seriously, fuck that sandwich.

I digress. We were here and there was no turning back now.

We sat down. Our waiter, the afore-depicted “Johnny” gave us his name on a napkin as if to tell us to be sure to call for him, by name, in the event that one of us required medical attention due to our unbridled hedonism during our stay in his care. We ordered large sized beers from this man, and he had brought them to us. A toast to Johnny.

Ah, the beers. What paramount. The best decision of the evening.

We rifled through the stack of menus presented to us to find we each had a specials menu, a desert menu, and a food menu plus the tiny menu that stands up on the table. We all stared at the menus in starved bewilderment for a few moments, until we eliminated all menus but the most normal menu we could find; the regular food menu. Glorious regular food goodness.

The plan was for each of us to get an appetizer and for us all to share one Deep Dish pizza, and yes, we laughed about how hungry we’d still be after eating all of the food. I remember someone at the table say something like, “Oh, haha! Can you believe it? We’re going to feel so good after tonight’s dinner! Man, we should get doughnuts after we eat! Hahaha, tra-la-laa!” How we laughed and laughed and laughed.

Do you see that? That’s what is what people mistake for potato skins! It’s a fucking pizza! It’s a fucking pizza filled with mashed potatos and melted cheese, sprinkled with bacon and encapsulated in greasy toast. All topped off with a “fuck you” sized dollop of sour cream. It was exactly what i would imagine people think sex is like. You heard me.

We also ordered nachos and two forms of chicken intake. Here’s the list.

That, my friends, is a grand total of 4640 callories and that was before this bitch…

This, my friends is “Numero Uno,” Uno’s deep dish pizza with “the works.” Weighing in at a whopping 3840 calories by itself. It rests atop a grate which is made to separate the crust drippings from the rest of the meal, and yes, the crust drippings were plentiful. We each had one slice a piece and saved two for Milton, for later. You’re welcome and I’m sorry, Milton.

After the meal, i needed to get outside – and FAST. While i was recuperating from the horrors i just made my body withstand a younger boy came outside of the grill while on his cell phone. “No, Angie is at the Arby’s. No no, I don’t want to stay here eating this garbage pizza!” the boy proclaimed and i wholeheartedly agreed. We got our check and managed to make it to the parking lot and even into the car itself.

But did we go home? No. We didn’t.

We actually went to Dunkin™ Donuts™. We actually bought six doughnuts from the drive-thru. James and I got coffee too, which helped my body forgive me for what i had done. The coffee also gave me the temporary ability to think once more, and we started tossing bad actors names around in the car to try to come up with the perfect movie to complement what had just happened.

Chuck Norris won.

Chuck Norris’ 1994 directed-by-his-brother-Arron feature-length motion picture “Hellbound” won.

Shatter (Chuck Norris) and Jackson (Calvin Levels) are two Chicago police officers. They are investigating the brutal murder of a rabbi and are summoned to Israel for questioning. Shatter and Jackson travel to Israel and continue their investigation. They realized that are trying to catch a supernatural being, Satan’s emissary, Prosatanos, who tried to keep control of the world in the time of crusades, but he was stopped by King Richard for centuries. King Richard had broken the scepter of Prosatanos (the source of his power) into nine pieces. They were sent to the nine holy places in the world and kept there until to the end of the 20th century. In the second half of the 20th century Prosatanos came back. He collected all nine pieces and restored the sceptre. Detectives Shatter and Jackson must fight with him.

Dude’s name is “Shatter.”

Turns out the movie ISN’T good. Blew my mind too. They had the typical formula for an interracial dynamic-duo cop action movies, but with weak attempts at humor and virtually zero action. There was a fight scene where Chuck Norris kicks a guy in the dick four different ways. That was pretty good. And the bad-guy Prosatanos, who from henceforth be referred to as Prostateanus, was creepy enough…

I kept forgetting there was a plot to the movie. I literally though it was just related scenes jumbled together with Chuck Norris being a ginger badass, and that it was made into a totally legitimate film somehow.

Thats pretty much the long and short of it, but before i go, i’d like to share a quote with you that really stuck with me through the duration of the movie, and it is: “Why don’t you cut my nuts off with a dull ass butter knife? I deserve some respek!”

Thank you.

Edit: I just realized that Hellbound takes place in Chicago. How’s that for coincidence!

Nov 192010

It Begins…

The evening began as many of my evenings do, drinking at 12 Steps Down, a local bar located at 9th and Christan in South Philadelphia’s Italian Market. I had been trying to nap while watching The Hangover when a barrage of text messages from my friend Sean rousted me out of bed and got me thinking about the drink. He was there with Dreams who, as you know, is a fellow soldier in the war against hunger, so I decided to numb my tummy a bit before the buffet-style gastrointestinal onslaught began. Maahk joined us a short while after I had arrived, beaming with excitement and anticipation for the incredible meal in which we were about to partake. Niquisha was the straggler, stuck at home and working diligently on homework until she could no longer ignore her hunger pangs.

The first official God Awful Dinner and Movie Night had begun.

High Hopes…

Brimming with emphatic exuberance, the four of us piled into Maahk’s Buick and headed to the shopping center located at Washington and Columbus, a mere eight blocks away and the home of The Ruby Buffet. The prospect of an all-you-can-stuff-in-your-fat-craw buffet-styled eatery enticed us all, especially after having received word from our close and trusted friend, Banji, that the place was far superior to what you would expect from other city buffets. Naturally, we had decided to make this location the first official G.A.D.A.M.N. dinner location.

The House of Diarrhea

The decor of the place was Asian-inspired with purple neon-light accents around the buffet stations – phenom! There was a dessert station, complete with a soft serve ice cream torture machine and various types of wee tiny cakes; a salad station which housed various fruit / fruit-based treats, and Jello (of course); three hot stations, overflowing with seafood, typical and atypical American Chinese food dishes, various types of white and fried rice, poultry, beef and pork dishes – even pizza and donuts!; and the one station that I was most excited for – the sushi station. The sight was breathtaking and I immediately began to tremble, feeling as though i might have fallen to my knees and wept, anxious beyond belief for the plentiful bounty I had just discovered with my three dear friends.

I cleared my bladder before dinner, to maximize capacity of course, while beginning a half-assed conversation with Dreams as we stood side-by-side at the urinals. Alas, it was obvious that neither he nor I were listening to what I was was saying – there was food to be eaten!

We all grabbed fresh plates and began piling on the hot mess. My first round, as depicted below, consisted of 6 pieces of sushi, a piece of garlic bread, two pork dumplings, a chicken… thing… on a stick, four cheese and crab meat wontons, a spring roll and the cutest crawdad I could find in the soupy, salted bile from whence it came.

... it begins.

Aside from being a bit more tasteless than I had hoped, the first plate went down just fine. Disappointments included the mackerel Sushi tasting like salted fish water, the pork dumplings being mostly pink, stinky meat and gristle, the cheese and crab meat wonton tasting neither like cheese nor crab meat, and the garlic bread which tasted uncannily like regular bread. All of this was nothing that a full two tablespoons of wicked strong wasabi couldn’t fix. I put it on literally everyone on my plate. The crawdad sat atop an intriguing throne of compacted rice, the contents of which was and is still unknown. It was, however, the most delicious thing on the plate – hands down.

I had won Round One, and had beaten all of the others seated around me to a clean plate. My prize? Well, more food, of course! I leapt from my chair and hauled off to the amass another mountain of “nourishment.” A fresh shipment of snow shell crab legs were brought out from the back room in our presence and we witnessed one man take every last one, as though to say “yeah, you saw me do it. Go ahead and try to take these away from me.” Dreams and I did not try to take them away from him.

... enter: self loathing ...

More sushi, a secret pouch of sticky beans ‘n’ rice, crispy duck, bland potatoes, mystery meats, shrimp fried in what seemed to be sandy dirt, and a salted melange of boiled seafood. This round was much more difficult to get through. Pretty much everything tasted like the grease the cook used to fry it, except for the shrimp, which tasted like hell on earth.

But I couldn’t stop there. If I was paying $15 dollars for this meal, and I was certainly going to get my money’s worth. The third and final round was the dessert round, complete with Jello (of course).

... the resulting heart murmur

A disgusting rosebud painted bready red bean mush treat, Jello (of course), a bloody dick, banana graham cracker mash (of sorts), a wee tiny cake, a “kind” of “cheesecake” and coconut chicken – on Dreams’s recommendation. Everything was so sweet I could swear i tasted Type 2 Diabetes, and i quickly became too full / disgusted with myself to finish this plate. By this time I was so dizzy and sleepy I could barely lift the fork to my face. I needed it to stop. I needed it to stop for real this time.

Surprisingly, the coconut chicken was the winner of this round, far and above it’s plate neighbors, though the sauce had the consistency and aroma of hot, tropical semen. I immediately imagined a hulking, bronzed god with a head made from a coconut j’ing off on an entire platter before the server presented it to the unsuspecting patrons. The Jello fucking ruled. But all good things must come to an end – usually at the moment you begin to feel the cold grip of death take hold.

The Aftermath…

With about thirteen-thousand tons of food challenging my intestinal fortitude, I laid back in my chair (since sitting upright was far too painful) and gazed at the caliber of human that would patronize such an establishment for much longer than I could even possibly imagine tolerating. The sight was truly atrocious. From the obvious and blatant New Jersey couple who chose to stare longingly into each other’s eyes over a steaming hot pile of what would soon be explosive, painful diarrhea, to the brutal redneck party-of-four with the wife wearing the Kenny Chesney 2008 tour t-shirt and the sister who’s incredibly obese breasts occupied the majority of the table while she continued to eat – it was really quite something.

We slowly groaned our way to our feet and began to lumber over to the front desk in order to pay the check, which seemed much steeper after the food had already been inserted into my maw, and leave.

I made it as far as the bench outside the doorway before requiring a much needed rest. Niquisha, who was intelligent enough to avoid eating nearly as much as Dreams or I had, decided to venture into the Halloween store that neighbored the 7th circle of hell outside of which I painfully sat. When my strength returned to me, i stood up and ventured in after her.

I spent my time upstairs in the “adults only” area, staring longingly at this…

By this time I wanted to die, moreso than any other time in my life. The “food” was trying to make an escape, through whichever hole possible. I had to get home, curl up in a ball and die. Thankfully Maahk wasn’t taken with a festive sombrero or a chicken-through-the-head and was waiting patiently outdoors – presumably to use the restroom on the second floor of my home. Thank the heavens.

The After-aftermath…

Up to this horrible, horrible point we were all driven by the assumption that we had decided to watch the movie Cube 2: Hypercube for the evenings horrible, horrible movie. However, it was decided that it wasn’t right to watch without our fellow G.A.D.A.M.N. staffer Milton Suck-it Pony. We decided instead, on a whim, to choose to watch Mega Shark v. Giant Octopus, which turned out to be the perfect start to the most horrible idea ever.

Unfortunately, shortly after the scene where the helicopter pilot exclaims “oh crap!” before crashing into the side of a glacier seemingly for no reason, i passed out – partially due to the pain and partially because i had been awake for fourteen hours at that point. Niquisha sat next to me and was kind enough to howl with laughter each time a good part came up so I caught most of the highlights. Like the naval captain telling the Pentagon that the mammoth megalodon had been killed, and dramatically exclaimed “it rises!” when he realized that he was in error.

I’ll certainly have to watch the rest of it soon. Any movie that features a giant shark biting a commercial airliner out of the sky deserves another watch. Oh, and in case you were wondering, it is possible for a mega shark to bite a plane out of the sky. Heres how. And did you know that there’s a Cube Zero?

God Bless America.