Monday, March 19, 2012

One time I ate 50.

I'm not a super human. I'm just a man. I put my pants on in the mornings just like all of you do: I tie one side to the door with Red Vine licorice and the other end is held by Golden Globe winner Peter Dinklage, and then I jump into them from atop a stack of Korean phone books (from Special Self-Governing Province (特別自治道 특별자치도 teukbyeoljachi-do)). I decided that the time has come to put my body on the line, to truly test the limits of human endurance. I am going to eat 50 McDonald's chicken McNuggets.

I know what you're thinking, 50? Really? Those are probably meant for like 2 or 3 people, or maybe a few meals. That's the kind of thinking that caused Soviet Russia to lose the space race (like a whole bunch of commie bitches). I'm as American as apple pie, I know that Mr. Ray A Kroc would never wish to do me harm. If he hadn't intended one person to eat 50 of those fried hunks of mana he wouldn't have put it on the menu.

Preamble: I order the 50 McNuggies from some twenty-something who clearly is disappointed with his lifechoices. I inquired after the perfect blend of spice and flavor and he recommended the "Hot" mustard. I accepted and then his McTraining kicked in and he tried to offer me a soda and fries, to which I replied "Dude, I'm eating 50 McNuggies." "Oh, ok yea that should be enough," he responded. I have to wait a few minutes for all of the humble McWorkers to build a heap of chicken gristle.

McNugget 1: By the gods, this has to be the hottest and freshest McNomnom I've ever had. Perhaps even too hot.

McNugget 2: I crack open the "Hot" mustard. Not spicy. Not dijon. "Hot" mustard. The flavor is smooth and it mixes with the MSG and seaweed filler paste in my nuggies to make a happy feeling in my mouth. This was a good decision.

McNugget 10: One box down. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. This thing is in the bag. I move on, still with a full head of steam. The nuggies are hot and still moist, they slide down easy.

McNugget 17/18: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS. Some kind of hideously malformed giganugget has met my grasping hand. Two nuggets joined together like those two broads that have all the freaky Siamese twin specials on Dateline and stuff. Fun Fact: Those girls were offered a hefty sum by the goons over at to make a sexy tape. They came up with a total of $42.15 and the girls declined.

McNugget 20: Normally a stopping point, but not today. Slowing down a bit, but I'm not one to be bested by a lump of polyhydrogenated surimi paste with chicken bits.

McNugget 30: Phew. Losing steam here. Feeling strong though, powerful like Michael Dudikoff from American Ninja. I am out of "hot" mustard, so I have moved on to the Buttermilk "ranch". A potent oil based lubricant, all the better to slide those nuggers on home.

McNugget 33: Still driving and enjoying my 50 slices of Americana. The headlights going the opposite way on the highway sting my eyes. Is that sting pride... Fucking with me?

McNugget 40: I arrive at my apartment and pull into my parking garage. It seems even shittier than I remember and all of the graffiti in the elevator greets me like an old friend. I'm pretty glad for the respite. I heft the bag full of the final ten tenders and more napkins than that drive thru gives to a dozen customers. It feels like regret, ponderous like a middle aged overweight black lady's breasts. I reach the safety of my apartment and my stomach feels strange. I eat.

McNugget 42: These nuggies have grown cooler and the texture now resembles that of an ice hockey rink that has not bee zambonied in a month (rough). You know when you eat like 2 reef pipes and then smoke 6 bowls of Captain Crunch and your mouth gets a serious sandpapering? That is the joy that I am now experiencing. Except I don't smoke the reefer. I am stone cold sober and eating a gross metric ton of Chicken McNomgets.

McNugget 45: I get up and walk around a bit. I feel like a pregnant woman trying to hasten her delivery. There is a food babby growing within me. It is not friendly.

McNugget 50: Like Lance Armstrong with twice as many balls! Like Rocky but with fewer swollen eyeballs. I am pretty fucking terrific.

To recap, this is what I did this to myself:
  • 145 Grams of Fat
  • 25 Grams of Saturated Fat
  • 120 Grams of Protein
  • 35 Grams of Cholesterol
  • 5,025 Mg of Salt
  • 1 Gram of Riboflavin
The question is, are you a bad enough dude to try it yourself?