My (Future) Coney Island Hot Dog Adventure

In four and a half days, roughly 10,000 people will ascend on the corner of Surf and Stillwell Avenues to witness the something amazing, something bizarre, something larger-than-life, something slightly nauseating. And it doesn’t involve a circa 2003 Anna Nicole Smith (or even the modern day version). Of course I’m talking about the Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Championship on Coney Island in Brooklyn, New York. Otherwise known as the World Series-meets-Super Bowl of competitive eating.

Heather and I will be there. She’s nice enough to accompany me on my occasionally misguided trips to watch or participate in some IFOCE and non-IFOCE sanctioned eating contests. This time we’re getting a hotel. Making a weekend of it, if you will. She’s still nowhere near as excited about it as I am. She also not excited about the fact that we’ll be staying in an Econo Lodge in New Jersey. (Hey, we’re saving for a trip to San Francisco in the fall! I thought I was doing us both a favor by cutting a few corners, but I guess there some corners that are better left uncut. I think she mentioned something about bringing our own sheets and towels.)

In my head I’ve been going over the itinerary of our 36-hour trip and I think it’ll go something like this:

MONDAY, JULY 3

11:30 am – Depart Harrisburg, enroute to Ebola Lodge in Elizabeth, NJ.

12:45 pm – Stop at Wal-Mart in Allentown to buy towels and sheets that we forgot to pack.

3:10 pm – Arrive at Ebola Lodge. It doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would! The sheets and towels look clean, but we change them anyhow. Heather reminds me that hotels only wash blankets about once every four weeks. Could’ve done without that. Forgot to bring pillow cases. My Ramones t-shirt becomes Heather’s pillow case.

3:35 pm – Leave Ebola Lodge to explore Elizabeth, New Jersey.

3:55 pm – Back at the Ebola Lodge. Not much to do in Elizabeth. Beginning to wish I’d spent an extra 40 bucks for a place in Brooklyn. Watch TV. Fiddle with temperature controls on noisy air conditioner. Is that water supposed to dripping from there?

4:45 pm – Leave Ebola Lodge for Keyspan Park on Coney Island where the Brooklyn Cyclones are playing a game against the Hudson Valley Renegades.

5:20 pm – Park on Coney Island. With an hour-and-a-half until game time and our tickets already purchased we decide to take a stroll.

5:25 pm – Arrive at Nathan’s Famous hot dog stand, a mere two blocks from the stadium. Order six dogs (and one for Heather). Ask teenager behind the counter where the stage for tomorrow’s eaters will be placed. Stand in approximate location where Kobayashi and Joey Chestnut will devour a combined 100 hot dogs and eat my own six franks.

5:37 pm – I’m full after four-and-a-half hot dogs. Feed remaining half to stray cat. Keep last one for the ballgame. Heather says they won’t let me take food into the stadium. I ask if I can put it in her purse. She says no. I vow to do my best to conceal it under my shirt and prove her wrong that I can indeed sneak a hot dog into the stadium.

6:15 pm – Get tired of carrying cold hot dog. Eat hot dog and feed bun to seagulls. I could’ve snuck it into that damn stadium.

6:40 pm – Buy two beers and find our seats in the park. Breath deep and soak up the ambiance of a beautiful minor league baseball stadium.

7:27 pm – Middle of the second inning. Buy a hot dog, soft pretzel, one beer and one diet Coke.

10:05 pm – The Cyclones win a close one and the post-game fireworks are over. Depart stadium, stop at Nathan’s for two more hot dogs before leaving Coney Island.

10:45 pm – Back at Ebola Lodge. Wow, it’s friggin’ cold in here! The air conditioner is set at 66 degrees? Who the hell did that?

11:50 pm – Catch some Z’s. Dream about giant seagulls dropping hot dog bombs on me as I run frantically through the streets of Elizabeth, New Jersey. Duck into a seedy bar where I play beer pong with Crazy Legs Conti, Eater X and Anna Nicole Smith. Kobayashi comes in drunk and tries to bench press the pool table. Giant seagulls taunt me through the window. Crazy Legs disappears with Anna Nicole.


TUESDAY, JULY 4

6:30 am – Wake up to alarm. Yes, I intended to get up at 6:30 am, though I’m not happy about it at the moment.

7:35 am – Check out of Ebola Lodge. Forgot the sheets and towels. I knew we would.

8:15 am – Arrive at Nathan’s Famous hot dog stand on Coney Island to get “a good spot.” With four hours to go before the contest, good spots are abundant. Unfold tiny chair and have a seat.

8:50 am – Finally finish Horsemen of the Esophagus. Wait for other competitive eating fans to arrive. Heather leaves to take a stroll around Coney Island. I reserve her seat by placing my book on it. (As if a total stranger would suddenly swoop in, sit down and refuse to move after arguing that it wasn’t taken.)

9:00 am – Nathan’s opens. I buy three hot dogs because I feel weird just sitting there.

10:33 am – I think I see George Shea and Ryan Nerz, but I’m not sure. I do see Liz Kellermeyer of Urban Honking fame. We meet, chat, and agree that I woke up way to early for a hot dog eating contest.

10:55 am – I definitely see George Shea and a man who looks like Hungry Charles Hardy, but isn’t. Wait…yes, it is indeed Hungry Charles Hardy. I point out to the guy next to me that the man standing next to the other man is the commissioner of the International Federation of Competitive Eating. “They have a commissioner?” he asks incredulously. Two TV crews begin setting up in the media area directly in front of me.

11:05 am – More media begin assembling right in front of me. Not happy about it, but at least I’ve got the best seat in the house. Begin wondering if a seat near the corner of the stage would be better. I think I can smell hot dogs.

11:20 am – Crowd begins forming at an alarming rate. More eaters show up – Sonya Thomas, Pat Bertoletti, Rich LeFevre, Badlands Booker – too many to count. I’d greet them, but I don’t want to lose my spot and at this point, I don’t think putting a book on my chair will save it.

12:02 pm – George Shea and Charles Hardy do a live interview with the ESPN crew. The questioning centers on the now red-hot rivalry between the defending champ, Takeru Kobyashi and Joey “I-Can-Eat-50-Hot-Dogs-In-12-Minutes-Too-Bitch” Chestnut. Shea plays up the Japan vs. American angle and picks Chestnut in what he calls “the greatest upset since Jesus Christ himself rose from dead.” Charles Hardy calls the match “too close to call.”

12:15 pm – The introduction of the eaters is underway. Chestnut and Kobayashi make brief eye contact before settling into their positions next to each other at the center of the stage. A seagull watches from a lamp post overlooking the stage. Damn seagulls.

12:25 pm – The contest begins. The crowd gasps as Kobayashi grabs six hot dogs in each hand, squeezes them into a brown, meaty paste and gulps them down in the first minute.

12:31 pm – At the halfway mark, Chestnut leads Koby 32 to 30. Sonya Thomas is not far behind with 25.

12:34 pm – The meat sweats set in at the 9-minute mark as the eaters begin showing signs of slowing. Chestnut clings to a 41 to 40 lead.

12:36 pm – With 30 seconds left, Kobayashi attempts a “nasal ingestion” technique he learned while on a trip to Thailand. Despite some difficulty with the left nostril, the risk pays off. Kobayashi and Chestnut are tied with 50 dogs apiece.

12:37 pm – The contest ends. Over 500 hot dogs were consumed by the 18 eaters, 104 of which were downed by Chestnut and Kobayashi. The score appears tied at 52 each. But wait! There, on the south-eastern quadrant of Chestnut’s plate lies a single partially eaten hot dog and bun. Somehow in the mayhem of the previous 720 seconds it had wriggled free from his grasp. Chestnut has brought the mustard yellow belt back to American shores by a mere one-quarter of a frank. Kobayashi smiles, sneezes, and holds Chestnut’s hand above his head to acknowledge his young challenger’s victory. Humble Bob and Sonya dance a spirited jig. Eater X’s hair blows wistfully in the breeze and high, high above us all, the seagulls circle and search for their lunch.

Shoofly Pie II: Rebaked

My friend Jeremy took some awesome pictures of last weekend's shoofly pie eating contest. Check 'em out here. Below are a few of my favorites.

Steakbellie and his fans

Humble Bob in the zone

Me raising a toast...to finally be done!

Eater X, Humble Bob, Crazy Legs and Subich in mid contest

Pizza, pizza! (Pizza...pizza...pizza...pizza...)

From one type of pie to another, the IFOCE has added the Three Brothers Pizza World Pizza Eating Championship to its list of upcoming events. The contest will be held on August 12 in Greenbelt, Maryland (just outside Washington D.C.) and packs a healthy $5,000 in prize money, including a rare payout to the fourth place finisher.

Maybe this is my event. Liz herself told me that I picked a tough debut food with shoofly pie and I have to agree. From shoofly pie to pizza pie? I mean, how can two foods be so different yet so similar? Both are pies, both have crusts, both have gooey centers, and both are adored by the Amish!

Despite their similarities, I have to think I'll have a better chance in this event. I've eaten entire large pizzas (with extra cheese and pepperoni) on several occasions with room to spare. The same can't be said of shoofly pie (I've done that...once). I've even eaten whole pizzas while not under the influence of alcohol or other substances!

Actually, if anyone can win this, it's Humble Bob or Eater X. The pair became the first duo ever to finish the 28-inch meat lovers Pizza Challenge at Paulie's Pizza in New Brunswick, NJ. Bob himself has a good set of photos here. Other contenders include the 62-year-old ageless wonder himself, Rich LeFevre, who holds the IFOCE pizza record with 7-and-a-half extra large Bacci pizza slices in 15 minutes. It's hard to say how large those slices are, but you can bet they're probably the size of traffic cones...if they were flat and covered with cheese and a zesty blend of herbs and spices. A year prior, Sonya Thomas set the women's mark with 6-and-a-half slices. Here's some pics of that event.

In fact, it's pretty much a guarantee that Sonya will be at this year's pizza contest. The event is, after all, taking place just 15 miles from her place of employment on the Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland. Hell, she can do it on her lunch break.

SHOOFLY CONTEST: Humble Bob destroys record by 3+ pounds, some random guy takes third

Shoo fly, don't bother me! That's how the song goes at least. Shoo fly is definitely bothering me right now, two hours after the end of the shoofly pie eating contest in Lancaster. My first ever appearance in an IFOCE sanctioned event resulted in a 2 pound, 7 ounce finish. That's pretty much exactly one pie in 8 minutes.

I would've gotten much more accurate results if I had been observing and not eating, but here's how the top three finished:

1. Humble Bob Shoudt - 9+ pounds ($2000 prize)
2. Tim "Eater X" Janus - 8+ pounds ($500)
3. Some guy making his pro CE debut - 5.75 pounds ($100)

Needless to say, Janus' record set in last year's competition (6 pounds) was demolished. The performance of "some guy making his pro CE debut" was pretty astounding too, considering other ranked eaters in attendance included Crazy Legs Conti, Brian Subich and Brickhouse Braunstein. Steakbellie, coming off a 19 HDB performance in the QVC Nathan's qualifier just two days ago, was also there.

(UPDATE: "Some guy making is pro CE debut" is actually Nathan "The Cincinnati Kid" Kunce. He travelled all the way from Cincinnati -- just over 500 miles...one way -- to compete in the contest. I was eating next to him, and I can only say his technique is scary. Good use of the Kobayashi bounce and lots of animal-like grunting and yelling. Oh, and one helluva mess.)

I can't say how happy I am to have finally competed in a pro event. Even though I fell short of my 3 pound goal, it really makes me appreciate the accomplishments of some of these eaters (NINE POUNDS!). Unbelievable. You would've thought Crazy Legs would've placed higher than he did. According to his rousing introduction, he's got plenty of pie experience as the conquerer of "key lime pie, cream pie, and hair pie."

Oh, the Philadelphia Eagles cheerleaders were also there. A very nice touch that made for lots of great double entendres and "when did I take that?" photos. Before the pro contest, about 14 amateurs faced off for a $250 prize. The winner of that event ate 3.75 pounds of gooey molasses baked goodness. Not bad for a minor league showing. The combination of the two contests (a little over 30 eaters total) made the entire affair the largest IFOCE eating event ever.

Below: Beau, me and Jeremy hanging out with the locals. My flickr photo stream of the event here. Steakbellie has a photo stream of the event here, including pics of the Eagles Cheerleaders. (I don't think they did a single cheer, but they sure did a nice job of standing there and looking good!)

A competitive eating double header

A couple of weeks ago a co-worker forwarded me a link to an events listing for some kind of street festival here in Harrisburg. On it was a sign-up for an eating contest. All it really said was "Sign up for the eating contest! How much can you eat?!" with a space for your name and e-mail address. So I signed up and waited for a response.

Well, today I got a response. Turns out, it's a hot sauce eating contest and it's tomorrow at 5:30 pm. For those keeping track, that's five hours after the IFOCE shoofly pie eating contest that I'll be participating in just one hour away in Lancaster. So basically I'm pulling a double-header -- three or four pounds of sweet molasses pie for lunch and a bottle of hot sauce for dinner. To use another baseball analogy, it's like getting called up to the majors, playing a day game, and then finishing with a night game back in the minors.

This is how they roll in the IFOCE

Got an e-mail from Kate at the IFOCE, just reminding those of us who are eating in this Saturday's contest about some of the specifics of the event, including the rule that liquid cannot be poured directly onto the pies. She also mentioned that the eater's have their own greenroom-like, air conditioned suite set up adjacent to the staging area and the Philadelphia Eagles cheerleaders will be on hand "to keep up morale."

Air conditioned green rooms, blondes in tiny skirts and half shirts...I guess that's how it is on the pro eating circuit. Now I know what it's like for a minor leaguer when they get the call-up to the big leagues. It's like Crash Davis said of his 21 days in "the show" in Bull Durham: "You hit white balls for batting practice, the ballparks are like cathedrals, the hotels all have room service, and the women all have long legs and brains."

It's gonna suck to go back to the minors!

Shoo-fly pie and monkey crap

Went to Dutch Haven on Sunday to pick up not one, not two, but three shoo-fly pies. Since they're the provider of the goods for this Saturday's competition, I figured I'd better practice (but not at home!) with the real deal. After my first trial run -- a two minute sprint -- I now realize that buying three two-pound pies was a mistake. Probably because I've got two-and-a-half pies left and I'm pretty damn sure I won't be eating them before Saturday.

To be fair, the pies are two pounds, four ounces each, so I ate just over one pound. At that rate I'll eat somewhere north of four pounds, but assuming a significant second half drop-off, my expectations lie somewhere in the three pound range. Nowhere near the rate I need to be at to challenge Eater X's record of five and change, but there's still a few practice runs left, so who knows what will happen.

On the consistency of the pies, I can only describe it as very thick and syrupy. After removing a single piece for a picture, the innards had already begun oozing onto the plate (see right). Makes sense, I guess. The pie box clearly states, in big handwritten lettering: "Shoofly Pie - It's gooey!" And when the crumbly crumb topping and crust mix with this glue-like filling it creates one helluva mess (not to mention what it feels like to try to swallow it). It also has to be one of the messiest, most disgusting looking foods to watch someone eat massive quantities of. By the end of my sprint, my hands, face and water glass looked like I'd just lost a poop-throwing contest with a cage full of monkeys. I guess that doesn't explain the mess on my face or why I felt it necessary to drink water during the showdown, but you get the point.

So all in all, it was a so-so training session. And, even though I said earlier that there will be others, there probably won't be. To prepare, I didn't eat anything all day (which I hate to do) and then, to be over and done with my dinner in 120 seconds is kind of a bummer. Okay, maybe one more session on Thursday, but the results of that one will be strictly confidential.

My IFOCE pro eating debut

Well, it’s official. I’ll be making my professional, IFOCE-sanctioned competitive eating debut on June 24 at the World's Greatest Shoo-fly Pie Eating Contest in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

Needless to say, I'm pretty excited about it. Those who know me are excited too…or at least excited for me. Those who don't know me or don't follow competitive eating just think it's kind of weird. At least until I mention the prize money and then they say, "Oh, SNAP!! How do I get in on some of that sweet shoofly action?!" (Actually they usually say something lame about being able to buy a lot of TUMS.)

I registered for the event a while ago and didn’t think I made the cut until I got an e-mail from Kate Westfall at the IFOCE last week. In her email she asked if I’d like to compete against the pros or if I’d like to square off against the amateurs in a preliminary contest held right before the main event. Needless to say, I chose to go up against the big dogs.

Here’s my rationale. It has nothing to do with prize money ($2,500 for first versus only $250 for the amateur winner). I hold no illusions that I’ll come in first, second or even third in the pro contest. Okay, I like to think I have a shot at third, which packs a $100 prize (just enough to cover training expenses), but there’ll probably be at least three pros in the contest so that might still be a lofty goal. Besides, if I were motivated by money, I’d be better off in the amateur event because my chances of winning are much greater.

No, what motivates me is the competition and the fact that I might never have an opportunity to compete in an IFOCE event again, so why the hell not, right?

So I guess I’d better get my ass in gear and get ready for this thing. Eater X is the world record holder when it comes to shoofly pie with six pounds in eight minutes during last year’s competition. Big Brian Subich and Beautiful Brian Seiken also competed.

In case you’re wondering, shoo-fly pie is a dessert with Pennsylvania Dutch origins made with a veritable shit ton of molasses. It comes in two varieties: wet bottom (sweet, gooey molasses throughout) and dry bottom (with more of a cake-like consistency). I’m heading to Lancaster tomorrow to visit Dutch Haven, a co-sponsor of the event and the provider of the pies that will be eaten during the contest. I’m sort of hoping for the thick, gooey pies. I’ve tried both this week and the wet bottom seems to go down a little easier. I’m sure it has something to do with the built in moisture.

While I’m at Dutch Haven, I’ll pick up five or six pies to practice with. Now I know the IFOCE opposes “at home training” on the grounds that it can be dangerous and all that other stuff. I respect that judgment. That’s why I refuse to train at home. I just won’t do it. Instead, I’ll train at work on my lunch break (or at least eight minutes of my lunch break). I might also go to the Rockvale Shopping Outlets – which is where the event will be held – and train there. You know, just to get a feel for the lay of the land and the environment. They say eating outdoors is much different from eating indoors (for example, at one’s desk or in the conference room.)

So that's it. I'll post again on Sunday with reports and pictures of the pies. In the meantime, I need a nickname and maybe some sort of stage persona. But nothing too over the top. I am, after all, just a lowly rookie.

Kobayashi website up and running

Hey, look who's decided to join the conversation! Trencherwomen broke the news on this, but the great Takeru Kobayashi finally has his own website. Just in time to ride a wave of buzz into the Nathan's hot dog contest on Coney Island just three weeks from now. Unfortunately, I tried downloading the Japanese language pack to translate the site, but that worked about as well as if I had done nothing at all.

Don't forget to check out the cool "Kobayashi Famous" logo on the blog portion of the site (modeled after the Nathan's Famous logo). The site gives props to Koby's United Food Fighters Organization, but a Google of the group revals absolutely nothing. I'm assuming it's because whatever's written about it is in Japanese. I'm also assuming that "Food Fighters" in Japan means "Food Eaters of Great Quantity." Eating or fighting, it doesn't really matter, because it would freakin' awesome to see Koby and his crew kicking the crap out a giant lobster dumpling in some dark Tokyo alley (and then devouring it as it lay dying in a pool of its own blood).

Mmmm...beer and monkey chow

You know how some old people eat canned dog food because they don't have any money left over after paying for their medication? Yeah, that's sad. Well this guy isn't poor or on any medication (that I know of), but he decided to live on nothing but monkey chow for a whole week. Each day he logged his weight, mood, poop, and "monkey-like attributes." He blogged it too. He said he's tired of people telling him he should've gone Spurlock with it by doing it for a whole month, but I have to agree...seven days isn't exactly pushing the boundaries of the human body.

The whole thing reminds me of the time when the great Crazy Legs Conti lived for an entire week on nothing but Guinness beer (his friends dared him to do it after Conti described how Guinness is packed with vitamins and nutrients). The man travels the world, works in a strip club, gets paid to eat massive quantities of food...how does he not have his own comic book by now?

The Generals Grant and Lee of the Philly cheese steak civil war

On the left is Geno's Steaks, housed at the corner of Ninth Street and Passyunk Avenue in Philadelphia. It's one half of what's called the mecca of cheese steaks, and it's not even the better half. While it may be bathed in glitzy neon lights with walls adorned with autographed photos of celebrity visitors, its fiercest competitor sits just a french fry's throw away in the form of Pat's King of Steaks (on the right). Pat's, in all of its unassuming, Coca-Cola branded, opposite-of-Geno's glory, is considered by many to be the better of the two cheesesteakeries. Not by a landslide, just better.

Both are open 24 hours a day, seven days a week and both offer simple menus anchored, of course, by the cheesesteak "wit" or "witout" onions. Word to hungry out-of-towners: Though you may have your choice of fancy-schmancy cheeses, Cheese Whiz is the only true way to adorn a cheesesteak. In fact, some say John Kerry single-steakedly lost the 2004 presidential election during a campaign trail stop at Pat's (he got that part right) by ordering his meal with swiss cheese.

Another word: You can't leave Ninth and Passyunk without trying both. You just can't. Unless you're spending more than one day in Philly or your commute is less than an hour, you have to walk the 150 feet and order up another steak. You might not be hungry, but you have to do it -- or risk pissing off your stomach and second-guessing your decision the whole way home.

Moose Tracks on the Appalachian Trail

Went camping last weekend at Pine Grove Furnace State Park, about one hour from our house in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The park marks the unofficial halfway point on the 2,100 mile Appalachian Trail, and is significant in megamunching lore because of the famous “Half Gallon (Ice Cream) Challenge.”

Each year, more than 2,000 hikers attempt to “thru-hike” the trail (covering the entire trail in one four to six month attempt), starting in Georgia in early March and ending in Maine some time in August or September (or vice versa). Only about 25 percent who start end up completing the trek. Needless to say, life on the trail is anything but an eater’s dream. Lots of protein bars, beef jerky, and instant mac & cheese. And, though there is the occasional pit stop at a small town buffet, many hikers find their digestive systems are unable to cope with the sudden influx of grease, sugar, or whatever else is eaten in gorging, all-you-can-eat quantities.

That’s where the Half Gallon Challenge comes in. As hikers enter the park, they make a pit stop at the Pine Grove Furnace Store where they pay $5.49 for a half gallon of Hershey’s ice cream, grab a spoon and begin a rite-of-passage they’ve no doubt been dreaming about for the past two or three hundred miles. The challenge is pretty simple: no time limit or “finish it and it’s free” financial reward, just the satisfaction of participating and an opportunity to reflect on the 1,100 miles already hiked and the 1,070 that lie ahead.

The interior of the tiny store is very simple, just a few shelves of basic camping gear, some canned goods, and an assortment of drinks. But just inside the door is an old slide top freezer where the good stuff is kept. Not a bad selection either. There's basics like chocolate and vanilla, but there’s also cookies & cream, cherries jubilee, mint chocolate chip, peanut butter swirl, chocolate chip cookie dough and the always drool-worthy, Moose Tracks.

After eating their eight pints of frozen goodness (that’s 3,200 to 3,500 calories for those counting), hikers record their impressions in a log book kept in an old wooden box on the porch of the store (that’s it next to the newspaper stand in the picture above). Also in the picture is Mr. Don Ray, the owner of the store and, from the 15 minutes I spent chatting with him, a man with a lot of great hiker stories to tell. Don said about 400 to 500 hikers complete the challenge each year and it’s not uncommon during the peak halfway month of June to find 15 to 20 hikers sitting at the wooden picnic tables outside the store, chowing down on ice cream, playing cards and swapping trail stories.

According to Don, the most popular flavors are chocolate and vanilla and the ONE GALLON record is 33 minutes. Not long after the gallon record was set, one aspiring record holder downed a half gallon in just four-and-a-half minutes, but fell short of the record when the magnitude of his feat hit his digestive system about half-way through the second serving (he ended up finishing in just under one hour).

My own purchases at the store were two bottles of orange juice for breakfast the next morning, but when I return in August, a few friends and I will attempt the challenge as unofficial participants. While there, I managed to snap a few pictures of the log book. Below, in their own words, are the personal accounts of some of the most recent eaters. Unless you have super hawk-like vision, you'll probably need to click to enlarge and read.

Cop wins doughnut eating contest

I've been meaning to write about my camping trip last weekend but I can't do it without posting photos (the photos tell the story...literally). Unfortunately, Blogger has been "dealing" with some "glitches" in the photo uploading portion of their software for the past week or so. It's really frustrating and it appears as though I'm not alone. Oh well, guess I'll just have to wait it out. Anyhow, on to the megamunching...

Came across this story about a Maine police officer that won, of all things, a doughnut eating competition! It's the second year in a row he's won the contest. To be fair, the contest was only open to police officers, perhaps because no one else could beat them. Turns out, contests that feed off the cop-eating-doughnuts stereotype have been done before. Here's one sponsored by Dunkin Donuts called the World Cop Donut Eating Championship.

(Wait, is it "doughnuts" or "donuts"? Let's see...Google lists 4.4 million listings for "doughnut" and 8.2 million for "donut." Okay, guess that clears that one up. Sort of.)

Anyhow, wouldn't it'd be funnier if it were a bacon eating contest? Ahh, two oh-so-deliciously-fattening breakfast foods and two great stereotypes. Insulting cops never tasted so good!

Oh those crazy KFC folks!

Talk about a megamunching sensory overload. I was watching a Mets game on TV this weekend and a commercial for the new KFC Cheesy Chicken Mashed Potato Bowl came on. Look at this thing! It's Thanksgiving leftovers all rolled into one foodgasmic, blissful bowl.

To be honest, as the commercial progressed I laughed out loud because I had flashbacks to that Taco Town commercial spoof on SNL in which an announcer keeps interrupting the guys to add more layers and more ingredients to their tacos. The end result is a crunchy all beef taco smothered in nacho cheese, lettuce, tomato, and special Southwestern sauce; wrapped in a soft flour tortilla with a layer of re-fried beans in between; wrapped in a savory corn tortilla with a middle layer of Monterrey jack cheese; wrapped in a deep fried gordita shell smeared with a layer of special 'guacomolito' sauce; wrapped in a corn husk filled with pico de gallo; wrapped in an authentic Parisian crepe filled with egg, gruyere, sausage and portobello mushrooms; wrapped in a Chicago-style, deep-dish, meat lover's pizza; rolled up in a blueberry pancake; dipped in batter and deep fried until it's golden brown; and served in a commemorative tote bag filled with spicy vegetarian chili.

Anyhow, that's what this KFC Cheesy Chicken Mashed Potato Bowl reminded me of, except it's real. Imagine if other fast food restuarants did this? Wendy's could unveil the French Fried Chili Frosty Triple Cheeseburger Salad. Burger King could take "Have it your way" to a whole new level by giving you access to all the ingredients on the menu and then, after creating a heaping plate of meat and cheese and hash browns, you hand your creation over to the kid behind the counter who then dips the whole thing in that awesome french fry batter and plops your bowling ball-sized lunch into the fry cooker. Wouldn't that be great? Oh, you bet your sweet cholesterol level it would!