Competitive Eating

First things first, congratulations to the official release of “Last Goodbye” by BEAUTIFUL DISTURBANCE.

Having to wait until midnight for their acoustic music video was not so much the challenge, it was keeping my eyes for having tears again.

But its great music and its out now, so if you wanna know what I’ve been blubbering about, check it out:

So  on with the show now that the excitement is starting to calm down for the night.

COMPETITIVE EATING.

I have no idea why this came up to be a big thing with me as of lately, but one thing led to another I suppose.

I think that we’ve all heard or read stories on the news about how this contest was won by this person or how much this person ate and this record being broken. All done by competitive eaters.

For whatever reason, I’ve always been fascinated by this phenomenon. Because I don’t really know if I should call it a sport or a hobby or whatever.

I think though that for the people who do it, they would have to love food more than the average person. They would have to know so much about food and cooking to be able to be a better competitor.

I recall recently within the past few years a television program called “Man Vs. Food” and most of us may have heard about or have seen it. I kept thinking to myself even then… that I could do what he was doing. And to think that I could get PAID.

Until there was one episode where he was in different places that were local. Then he went to JUAN IN A MILLION. He took on the DON JUAN TACO CHALLENGE. Basically, he ate as many of the giant breakfast tacos that he could that was just stuffed and crammed full of potatoes and tortillas. And not a lot of anything else. I believe the record was seven. The host didn’t even come close!

And I thought that this was just a taco. Albeit huge. It was just a taco. I thought that for the longest time.

And then months later, my sister took me to JUAN IN A MILLION for a belated birthday lunch out. And that’s where I ordered TWO. Which I thought was a smart “test” being that it was only one-quarter of a goal to mark a new record.

I could barely finish 1¼ of a taco.

Sucker, that I was.

But I have pulled off other eating feats. I did swallow 62 Chicken McNuggets in an untimed and had no limits or rules. But I chunked down that many in approximately an hour and only ONE medium size drink. Give or take.

Never again. I didn’t touch another chicken nugget of any kind for two years after that. And now in 2014, my sister thinks I’m insane for ordering twenty.

A lot of people believe that the idea of competitive eating is a waste of food as well as unhealthy for the body.

So I don’t think that my career path is in this kind of eating. I’m actually an extremely picky eater to the point where people call me a bitch. Whatever!

It still fascinates me though. So I don’t mind watching the videos on the Internet.

 

Memorable Christmas Moments Of Youth

‘Like- Merry Christmas, and stuff!’

“Merry Christmas! Shitter was full!!”~ Randy Quaid as ‘Cousin Eddie’ in “Christmas Vacation” [1989]

 

Okay so I’ll write the disclaimer now. This blog post is not for two sets of people:

 

• Those who still believe in Santa Claus.
• Those who have a weak stomach.

 

But for the rest of us, I will share with you the top moments of Christmas from my own youth. There is some humor in it, if you can find it.

 

Growing up in a large family, myself being the third child out of four. Yep, I’m a middle child. Christmas was a bit rough when it came to buying Christmas gifts for everyone. Each one of us would spend time in the bedroom of our parents to wrap the gifts, place bows on them, and fill out those silly little Christmas TO/FROM: tags and place them on the present to each member of the family.

 

When it was my turn, my father was running out of time to help as he had other things to do, so instead of “helping me” wrap gifts, he wrapped them and then I would write out the TO/FROM: tags and then I would place them under the Christmas tree.

 

Finding just the right one was difficult. Or it could have been that I was just being difficult because I could never really choose which one I wanted to put on each present. I would go through many tags and then finally take the stickers off the paper and then place them on the present.

 

After the first one, I wrote “FROM: Santa Claus”. That went by unnoticed. The second gift however, was not so lucky in getting by passed by my father.

 

He noticed that I had written “Santa Claus” on two different gifts. It was a figure that was not celebrated in my youth. Before I knew it, the present was thrown back into my lap and then the authorative voice of my father booming out, “What’s this??”.

 

The moment I said the word “Santa”, I felt the full parental authority come down on me as I got my butt kicked. I went through a five minute lecture as to WHY we did not celebrate Santa Claus and was told to do the tags over again.

 

But it wasn’t over.

 

My mother heard the shouting and came into the bedroom to see what was going on. When she heard what I had done… well, I got it from her too. I would go on to say that if I or my siblings were disciplined by BOTH parents, that I would call it “Frequent Flyer Miles”. One parental backhand would send me sailing into the reach of the other parent and then I would be returned back to where I was standing by way of ANOTHER disciplinary action by the second parent.

 

It probably sounds a lot worse than what I am writing it out to be. There was no “time out” back then as a form of discipline. When you got in trouble– you got it from your parents!!

 

But that year, I received a BONUS Christmas gift from my parents, that came a few days early by way of discipline. I would never dare mention or write the name of the jolly old elf again in the house. EVER. And it began my own belief system that there probably was no such thing as Santa Claus. But I would never go and ruin it for the other children who believed.

 

But the other story has a lot more humor to it than the first:

 

The memory is a bit vague as I was probably about four or five years old. But the day of Christmas Eve, I was with my mother and my younger brother inside a crowded shopping mall. The odd thing about it was that my brother and I were both sick from the day before with what would only turn out to be the 24-hour flu, because by the time Christmas Day arrived, we were fine. We were getting to feel better, but we weren’t out of the woods. But my mother couldn’t leave us in the house alone, we HAD to go with her.

 

Over and over again, we would pass by Santa’s little corner. It was the place where children could go visit Santa Claus and tell him what they wanted for Christmas. My brother and I pestered my poor mother to go get in line and tell him what we wanted. But my mother would refuse each time. Until we finally just wore her down and she gave in.

 

The mall was about to close, the line was a mile long in front as it was behind us when we stepped in line. Many parents who had seen that I was a disabled child, allowed my mother to cut in line to get to see Santa Claus a lot sooner.

 

For those of you who have seen A Christmas Story, it was very similar to the part in the film where Ralphie and his kid brother were in the back of the line and panic set in with Ralphie because he did not think that he would get there in time to tell Santa Claus what he wanted for Christmas.

 

My brother went first. He began to tell this man in a red suit and a white beard which had happened to be real, what he wanted for Christmas.

 

Suddenly, my brother stopped talking. The poor mall Santa wondered what was going on.

 

In a flash, my brother opened his mouth and proceeded to projectile vomit all over the place. That flu had gripped on to my brother and made its presence still known. It went everywhere! Stuck in his beard, down the front of his red suit.

 

The poor man removed my brother off of his lap and tried to take everything in stride. He was handed a towel before I was next to be sat upon his lap. My mother on standby in case my balance was thrown off. 

 

The bastard that was portraying the happiest and most jolly of elves began to grumble to me about the “little brat that threw up on him”. That “little brat” was my little brother! It didn’t please me so much that this person who was supposed to be so uplifting and a positive thing for children was calling my brother names.

 

I think that my body was ready to stand up to Kringle, and fight. As I was situated on his lap so that I would not fall, my body began to churn. I didn’t even get as far as to tell this so-called Christmas “go-to guy” what my first name was before I too…. had given him a baptism by vomit. And not only that. Everything that did not come out from the top, exited my body from below.

 

Santa Claus was given the double dose of vomit and diarrhea. This guy, whomever he was.. was covered in puke and shit. From his beard to his boot, he was NOT covered it soot. That’s for sure!

 

But you know what?!? Give me a break.. I was a child.

 

The Santa Claus began to scream obscenities in front of everyone. Clearly he was pissed off. I cannot say now that I blame him. And he closed up for the day. He was done and he left the mall, trying to dignify himself by “ho-ho-ho”-ing as he walked away covered in body debris. Those parents who had allowed us to cut in front of them probably regretted it. The long line behind us would not get a chance to plop their children on Santa’s lap that year. Unless they went to another shopping mall before it too, had closed.

 

I was covered with it too. Such embarrassment for a child to have crapped his pants and had to walk in it until we got into the car in the large mall parking lot, where luckily my mother had packed extra clothes for me and my brother and we did the best we could to change clothes and clean up in the back seat of the Matador station wagon.

 

But hey, as an adult? That story is funny as hell!!!

 

Gross and disgusting, but funny. After my teen years, I began to wonder if that guy ever was hired again to be a mall Santa. Or even if he dared to take the job after what my brother and I had done to him.

 

I think that though we all have our memorable Christmases. Some of us have received lavished gifts, others getting engaged or married around the holidays. And whatever else that could only happen during what seems to be the miraculous season of Christmas.

 

Some are heart-warming. Others (like mine) have humor to it. But give thanks that we can spend time with our loved ones and family during this time of the year. Some people don’t have anywhere to go this year. I’ve gone through that too, many times in the past decade or so.

 

So be sure to reflect and smile on YOUR special Christmas memories. And may THIS year bring even brighter and better memories to you and your family.

 

I am sure that since people have been receiving gifts early this year, that they will have no problem in sharing what they’ve received ON Christmas Day. Be sure to comment and share what you receive this year and what makes Christmas time such a special time for you. Yes, I would love to know.

 

To my subscribers, friends, family, and dear ones close to me: I love you. Merry Christmas!!

“May your days be merry and bright!!”.