Firstly, I cannot believe I entered the place. The very establishment that is predominantly responsible for the obesity epidemic in the U.S. The complete opposite and equal to the bodybuilding lifestyle.
The home to the Chicken McNuggets whose composition baffles the mind. Food offered at low cost to the customer but sacrificing quality and taste in the process. Well, regardless of the nature of the beast I decided to make it my post-workout refueling station.
At my disposal I had Tubway (Subway but by the make-up of the patrons warrants the rewording. For a place oriented towards a healthy lifestyle I?ve seen more overweight people there than healthy normal people.) El Pollo Loco (El Pollo was fucking sweet the first, humm, 104th visits but after a while the crazy chicken just doesn’t do it for me anymore.
If I want chicken Ill go home and eat chicken.), and the mustached mass murderer of poultry, none other than the diabolical Colonel Sanders and his crack-tainted dirty chicken.
I knew perfectly well that I had better options but with my current mantra of mo’ mass, mo’ mass I threw reason out of my truck doing 90mph into the middle of rush hour traffic. I parked the rig and proceeded to my destination.
I waddled to the golden arches dressed in my gym gear. It was post leg-day so my binge was further justified. I opened the doors to quite a scene. All the senses were aroused by this alien place that I found myself in.
There was the scent of peanut oil, cooking meat, and body odor. I looked around and saw many a heavy user. Men, women, and children all merrily consuming 1-2000kcals in one sitting. All of them sharing their affliction: being overweight to morbidly obese.
“Eww, fat sex,” I thought to myself as I looked on. The guilt started to set in but I remained undeterred. I was going to eat here and really try to absorb the atmosphere and never return for another 10 years.
I usually look at the real menu with the macros when I eat out on this kind of place but this time I just jumped in. I walked up to the cashier only to stare at the lit menu like a deer staring at the headlights that almost guarantee its death. I didn’t know what the fuck to order. Everything said, “BAD, DONT EAT THIS.”
“Fuck it, I’m bulking, and I train my ass off,” I told myself. I now had a growing line of angry patrons and I knew that if I didn’t order soon they would more than likely band together and plan to overthrow me. I ordered: One Big Mac, 2x Hamburgers, and 6pc Chicken McNugget baby! All of them unmodified.
“Any fries, bro?” my pimpled Hispanic pusherman asked me. “Not tonight man,” I told him concluding our transaction. He placed my water cup on top of my tray with a handful of BBQ sauce cups and waited. I stared at him clueless to what was next.
“Do I sit down and you’ll bring me my grease?” “Why aren’t you giving me my food?” “What is going on!?” ?I hope my Jenna Haze video is done by time I get home? Questions and thoughts that flooded my mind. Within moments a pint sized Mexican man appeared from the back with the goods.
“Wow, he’s tiny,” I thought. My tray was loaded up and I was now my next destination was the beverage trough. I stood there waiting as other users were refilling there Large cups with their selection, staying away from the Diet Coke as if it were battery acid.
I filled my sissy sized cup with Diet Coke and sat down at the first booth made available. I made the mistake of sitting to close to the Fun House.
I usually like to eat in peace and quiet, but not today folks. I had kids jumping around foaming at the mouth covered in ketchup and various other random substances. Performing back flips off the highest point of the Fun House to completely miss the bin full of plastic balls and land on the semi padded concrete floor meanwhile yelling in tongues at each other as if possessed.
Some trying to break open the case that housed the no longer functioning Gamecube by beating it with their food trays. One of them was shirtless, laying unconsciously, deep within the belly of the bouncy room as if mugged and beaten by his fellow fiends or had been the victim of a massive heart attack only to be left to the elements of the Fun House.
A truly revolting scene. All of them were little blimps. Mini Michelin boys and girls. Revolting and sad because they are future and obviously the obesity epidemic isn’t shifting gears to slow down, and sad because within all of those chubby bastards I saw myself as a child. Truly sad, that most won?t find the path I did.
All the while, their parents consuming their food. Some arguing, others merely talking about each others day completely oblivious to the chaos their offspring are brewing. To my relief I was still wearing my Ipod and turned it on to find Benny Bennasi.
“I love my sex,” indeed I told myself realizing I was the most bangable male in the building. After momentarily feeling good about myself at the expense of others, I began to devour what was on my tray. The two little hamburgers were nothing worth consuming.
They were merely bread, mustard, ketchup, okay sweet dill pickles, and meat that was seasoned with beef flavoring. There was no complexity to them. I could season a turd better and it would probably offer me a better spectrum of flavors. They were after all only a buck each.
Not one to cry over spilled milk, I proceeded to assault McDonald?s flag ship: the Big Mac. Tragically, I met the same long deceased, one trick pony. The Thousand Island dressing was too vinegary for my taste, the shredded iceberg lettuce merely got all over my workout sweatpants, and the meat fancied itself beef.
Another dud, and at this point I was ready to pack up and dump the rest into the garbage bin, but decided to finish off the McNuggets. I opened the tiny container to meet six oddly shaped little pieces of breaded and fried matter.
I prepared the BBQ sauce in order to hide the flaws that I expected from the chicken nuggets. I proceeded to press any excess oil from the nuggets with a napkin to the disgust and confusion of my fellow patrons. Upon deeming the nugget worthy of consumption, I took a bite from my prey. To my extreme surprise, they were good. Very good. The grease was clean and the breading was seasoned!
I had to press pause on Global Deejays? ?The Sound of San Francisco? in order to fully understand the nature of the nuggets. I stripped one of them naked and found that underneath the batter was a solid chunk of what appeared to be white chicken meat.
Ambiguous in nature but I believe it to be breast meat. I quickly dispatched the naked nugget and began to inhale the rest of his brethren. I left the BBQ sauce unemployed. After I fiendishly consumed my nuggets I stood up and walked back up cashier and demanded a reload. ?Back for the fries, huh, bro?? the lad told me with a smirk. ?
No, you ugly stick beaten fool. I?m here for the nuggets,? I almost told the poor cashier in dire need of Proactive or Accutane. $2.59 and a few seconds later I had my tray refilled with another six rounds of breaded mystery meat goodness.
Feeling satisfied and honestly not guilty of I had just done, I stood up to dispose of my trash. Also feeling quite parched after my econo-feast I decided to refill my sissy size cup with more Diet Coke only to be derailed by a blonde haired porcine-like child with an even greater thirst than my own.
The mother, with arms the size of a Christmas ham, scolded the at least 180lb 8 year old and apologized for his rudeness. ?Not a problem,? I said looking at the fiend fill his large cup with at least 4 different kinds of soda flavors.
Finally refilling my cup, I walked towards my truck somewhat expecting the place to blowup behind me while Rage against the Machine?s ?Ghost of Tom Joad? played in my head. It was a certified cheat meal. Nothing that I ate, I would eat again. Not even my surprisingly good chicken nuggets. Not for another 10 years.