Go to Arthurhungry.com and check out this story:

http://www.arthurhungry.com/archives/2004/01/pho_bich_nga.html

Some people think Pho Shizzle could be a fake. I’ll give you the arthur hungry guarantee that Pho Bich Nga does in fact exist. It’s in Vancouver, on Kingsway, and I took the picture myself! We didn’t actually try it though as we were there at like 4pm in between meals. That will be for another day…”

This is cash.  We love the Super Bowl so much that we…eat…EVERYTHING!!!

7-Eleven stores say their antacids sales increase by 20 percent the day after Super Bowl. 

Six percent of all working Americans will also call in sick the next day.

15 tons of potato chips…15…tons.

Most importantly, on Super Bowl Sunday, Americans drain an estimated 10.5 million barrels of beer, roughly 17 times the nation’s average daily consumption.

…and it’s a school night.

Mix in these filthy beasts:

…and you’ve got all-out hedonism. 

U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

Read more:
http://www.theeveningleader.com/content/view/68738/27/
http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/features/20080201-9999-1n1beer1.html

“Huckabee challenges Romney over fried chicken”

http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2008/01/28/huckabee-challenges…

I ain’t no Republican, but even if I were, I wouldn’t be votin’ for nobody who doesn’t know how to eat KFC. Hell, I’d rather vote for Jabba–we know he can get it done.

Who better to lead a nation of husky people than someone who can house KFC?

Huckabee is certainly justified in going after Romney on this.

Shit, I’m surprised he didn’t order a Snacker. Bro Taguchi will certainly show Romney how to order–and to destroy–some KFC. I’m sure Pumpkin has strong views on this, as well.

Just goes to show you how strong Romney’s tea is:

All this has made me very hungry. And very, very cranky. I hope Romney gets a rating of zero Taguchis.

-Spanks

Since we like to get husky at the Trumpet (or some of us do–some of us don’t eat dessert), I think this is $$$:

http://slice.seriouseats.com/archives/2008/01/a-list-of-regional-pizza-styles.html 

Whoever came up with that is a damn genius.

I’m soooo hungry right now.

-Spanks

The Germans are really crazy about swine. It’s almost unbelievable. Check out a small portion of the swine we encountered in our travels:

Found in the fridge: Pig fat - to spread on your bread!

“Have you had your swine today?”

Schweinshaxe (pork knuckle) “Beijing style.”

My Schweinshaxe (pre-destruction photo).

Post-destruction.

Get it!

No related posts.

Man, I feel like Pumpkin, Taguchi and I all missed out some kickass husk-it-up party, because a bunch of dudes have been gettin’ their husk on.

-
First up: GORE. Gore has been tearing it up at the buffet, obviously. Taguchi would have no love for this dude, but he just might give a silent nod to the massive pile of mashed potatoes Gore has been rockin’ lately, before Taguchi would get back to his own mashed pot. I have no idea how Pumpkin would react. (Pumpkin is off the radar, lately). Shit, Gore’s probably been rockin’ out the fourth quarter at Old Country Buffet with cheesecake, choco-vanilla swirl ice cream with sprinkles, and maybe even some choco pudding after he snuck in a slice of their high-school-cafeteria pizza.

_

Next up: RAMBO. Sly is gearing up for another Rambo movie, and by “gearing up” I mean he’s been feelin’ husky a lot. You know damn well Sly can eat. Don’t get me wrong–there’s a lot of muscle on that dude, but in this picture, it looks like he’s thinking about a backup-trip to the local BURRITOVILLE in order to tack on a steak burrito to the bucket of KFC he just snagged and destroyed.

-

Next: This is just a picture of two dudes enjoying some ice cream. Maybe they’d like to be husky. Don’t know. I think the dude on the right is named Bush or something.

I was in the grocery store the other day, getting a few things when I heard the wheezing and grunting of a rather large, stout fellow shuffing his way… no… morphing his way to the deli counter, like Jabba the Hutt working his way into his throne. This strapping lad was about 400 pounds and sweating like a high school freshman on prom night in the back seat a the limo. His shoes, those poor Wal-Mart brand sneakers, the soles looked like they were ready to blow out like Janet Jackson during the halftime show.

He had 2 canes… these canes looked like they were bowing so bad in the middle, they’d snap like a disgruntled high school student making out his shit list at home while playing Everquest. They creaked like floorboards in a Victorian home, bent so bad, I don’t think the Arch in St. Louis is bowed in the middle that bad.

When I got what I needed, I stood there putting things in my cart when I heard the most ridiculous thing come from this guys’ mouth… “Six pounds of German bologna please. *wheeze, wheeze*”

Six pounds of friggin’ German bologna for a guy that probably craps out small animals and bundles of potted meat.

After receiving his truckload of bologna, he then ordered five, yes five pounds of cheeze. Velveeta must be racing through his former blood stream, I am thinking at this point. I said to myself, “Why not go behind the counter and grab all you can! Fit whatever you need in your arms and throw it in your carriage!”

After Fatty McGee got 47 pounds of death by deli, I stood there in disbelief. I am glad there were no children around, for they may have been next on the grocery list for Orca, the great Killer Whale. Then the guy shuffled off, grunting and groaning, leaving a trail of sweat, greasy hair smell and a puddle of butter in his wake.

For God’s sakes, if you’re that heavy, do you really think you need 47 pounds of deli meat? I think Slim-Fast, a diet of cocaine and heroin would be good enough, but this takes the cake. The Human Eclipse is probably going to be your next “750 Pound man” on the Discovery Channel, so we can see him in all his glory, airlifted from his bed, as they cut the roof of the trailer off, and then show him munching on pork rinds showing off all his platter-sized bedsores for the nation to see right around dinner time.

Someone send for Richard Simmons!

I emphasize that these are ghetto. Big time. But there are moments in which they can come through–when you come home hammered, for example. (Provided you’re coherent enough to operate the microwave without catching the house–or yourself–on fire). The ghetto burrito is not meant to replace or to surpass El Burrito Loco, El Ranchero, or even Taco Bell. The GB is Johnny Standby. Old Faithful.

1. Hormel chili.

2. Taco cheese

3. Azteca tortillas (the big ones that come in a pack of eight). You can’t mess with Azteca.
4. Hot sauce (optional).

Put a few honkin’ spoonfuls of Hormel chili on the ‘ tortilla. Sprinkle the cheese on that shit and nuke that sumbitch for 49 seconds. Rip that thing out of the microwave, fold it, and kill it.
If you add more ingredients to that burrito, you have dispelled its “ghettoness.” Doing so may be good, but I’m talking about the bare minimum ingredients that will keep your ass satisfied when you come home from The Field House in Iowa City. (Especially if you passed up those rockin’ shishkabobs on the way back).
Post your own burrito recipe as a comment.

-El Spanko Guapo

I think I’m staying with the old skool Frosty. Wendy’s Vanilla Frosty is just ok. Maybe it’s good but not good. The sugar is there, but without the choco, the Frosty is “like Harry Melvin without Bluenotes: you’ll never go platinum.”

I’m not the kind of dude that rocks a vanilla shake anyway. Now, Dairy Queen’s brownie batter Blizzard is the shit. You feel like you tacked on 30 pounds afterwards, but, damn, you feel like a rockstar. An over-the-hill, about-to-be-on-”Celebrity Fit Club” rockstar. Like Vince Neil just left Old Country Buffet with Pumpkin and Taguchi and they did full court press against him for 4 quarters.

Prognosis: not good. The vanilla Frosty will die an early death.

Check out a massive debate at junkfood.blog

-Spanky McGee, MD

Do yourself a favor and get some jello pudding. Make that shit. Every time you remember that there’s pudding in the fridge and you’re ready to snack, you get this super-awesome feeling.

Having pudding in the fridge is a funny thing. It’s trivial enough so that you’ll temporarily forget it’s there, but great enough to make you proud of your earlier self for having the foresight to take care of your present self. You’re your own best friend (”I’m a Mog”).

Now, I expect a post from Grown Pumpkin deriding the object of discussion here. We’ll see what he has up his sleeve.

-Spankomatic