Hammond, Indiana-On Thursday something special happened in Hammond Indiana. A family decided to break their tradition of Applebee’s Neighborhood Bar & Grill, in favor of the newly opened and somewhat controversial Ruby Tuesday. The shift in casual dining option was initially met with the same unrelenting skepticism as anything else threatening to disrupt the minutiae of the family wading through an uneventful life.
But as the meal progressed, the cynicism eroded, the family exchanged knowing glances and grins as they each unbuttoned their jeans to allow room for the Chocolate Goblet Sunday which they sheepishly ordered from the waiter. By the time the bill came, the family was baptized in a quiet contentment only found at fast casual establishments.
“Very reasonable,” said Roy Taylor patting his belly on the way back to the car. “I’d go back, I would definitely eat there again,” he continued in an exhilarating state of relief.
“Service was great, never had curly fries like that! Can’t believe they serve Blue Moon with an orange! I’d go back!” chimed in Nancy Taylor looking back at her kids who nodded in silent agreement.
Realizing that the majority of the country has no chance of actually making it to Friday to seek refuge in their customary garbage piles of bogo knuckle steak jammers, jalapeno shooters, nummy chicken nubbbies and vodka mudslides, TGI Fridays has launched TGI Wednesdays.
Described as “a midweek, strip mall orgy on a budget,” TGI Wednesdays hopes to provide a haven for the majority of the country that require getting blacked out and eating shitty food on a Wednesday to maintain sanity in the otherwise brutal state of humanity.
There will be some certifiable psychopaths in tow, as is the case with any TGI Fridays location, but for the most part TGI Wednesday will cater to the disgruntled after work crowd who have spent the entire day churning out digital waste comparable in quality to the shoddy décor in a Wednesday themed bar and grill.
With a menu that encourages gorging your sadness into oblivion, the feeling of being uncomfortably full will soon distract from what ails you. The TGI Beef Fingers, a 60-40 mash of ground chuck shaped into a knotted human hand, deep fried Barefoot Rose’ and garnished with ostrich feathers are certain to loosen your worries and tighten your waistband.
Wash it down with a frosty mug of cocktail award winning Puckered Brown Eye and watch your cares melt away like the ice your stagnant cup of nutria infused Sour Apple Pucker. Forgetting about family and loved ones and knowing only the unique warmth provided by a franchised casual dining establishment.
The slogan for TGI Wednesdays has been confirmed as “Fuck it, it’s Wednesday”. So treat yourself with a full blackout for making it halfway through another forgettable week.
Reports documenting how lunch meat is made have ruined the cold cut buffet culture at strip clubs. Videos showing how Gummy Bears are made transformed an adorable candy into a tiny bear shaped sack full of crushed animal skin and bones. And now the shredded raccoon carcass caked on the side of the highway, which serves as a great low carb snack on road trips, may have a similarly perverse origin.
Raccoon meat is known by most as the filet mignon of vermin. A tender, delicate meat, best enjoyed fur-on, medium rare with a glass of earthy Sutter Home. Which is why the yearning for that old familiar taste is so consuming as you pass the crumbling corpse on the side of the road.
What most people don’t realize is that the tire treads and collapsed skull, assumed by many to signify a peaceful passing by natural causes, are anything but. In over 50% of cases these can signify contact with a moving vehicle, which can contain bacteria that most humans are intolerant to! Can anyone say upset tummy?!
And that sweet taste of highway medium raccoon flesh, almost bordering on acrid, that lures you back time and time again like a sirens song is actually the meat spoiling further between every chew. If you catch it even a day too late, it can cause severe nausea! Yuck! Who would have thought?
Knowing that the raccoon filet swarming with flies in the hot sun could have possibly been struck by a car AND might be rotting is a total bummer…but NOW YOU KNOW!
Little Chute, Wisconsin-Jack’s Pizza has been making moderately edible pizza for over sixty years. A flimsy mechanism for delivering your daily recommended dosage of Hidden Valley. With toppings that whimsically drift inches above the pie itself and vacate onto your chin with even the tiniest nibble. Shedding the scolding hot cheese and pepperoni like a snake molting in the middle of June.
There’s really only one way to eat Jack’s pizza and it involves coming home out of your mind on well-whiskey and whippets, turning the oven to 600 degrees, neglecting the preheating process entirely, and hastily throwing the pizza in the oven with the cardboard still planted steadfastly beneath it. Though as the whiskey eases your brain into a slow rolling Jacuzzi of ether and the siren song of the couch grows ever more persuasive, the likelihood of you actually waking up to retrieve the pizza out of the oven decreases dramatically.
That’s why Jack’s Pizza has partnered with Fireball Whiskey to create the Jack’s Fight Fire with Fire Party Box: Sometimes the Only Way to Put Out a Fire is to Start a FireTM. The box comes with a flame retardant pizza, a parliament cigarette the size of a breadstick and a signature Fireball marinara that will torch your ring piece but NOT your house.
You’ll wake up the next morning filled with delight, knowing that you haven’t been engulfed in a fiery tomb and can now eat an uncooked pizza smothered in Fireball whiskey. Let the Jack’s Fight Fire with Fire Party Box ignite the fire in your soul.
In a piece of shit world thirsty for any morsel of news or controversy, celebrity chef Guy Fieri made headlines confirming that he had his first solid bowel movement in over 2 decades. The rare feat happened on Saturday at approximately 2:00 p.m. Eastern Standard Time and was met with an obligatory ovation from Fieri’s hoard of Ed Hardy touting servants. “Shut the front door, these guys are what made it happen, they make a porchetta that you won’t forgetta…if yah catch my drift!” chortled a glistening Fieri in a near delirious state after feeling more human than he has in years.
It remains unclear what caused the fleeting glimpse at a healthy digestive tract, but experts plunging into the monstrosity like the sick triceratops scene from Jurassic park have confirmed it could either be the diseased raccoon tartare or tuna sausage consumed minutes prior. The act has caused universal outrage though no one is quite certain why.
“I’m used to it being radio silence down there or looser than creamed corn! That stool is so fresh it’ll slap ya!” continued Fieri being a nuisance and a health hazard in the kitchen with a piece of custom made leather toilet paper hanging repulsively from his camouflage Crocs.
As our stupidity evolves, examining celebrity shit will be a highly influential part in human culture.
By rule I don’t eat at any restaurant that doesn’t also have a presence in Fort Lauderdale, Cancun and or Mall of America. If there’s only one of a restaurant it’s because it’s not good enough to have more. If you can survive the black hole between Spencer’s Gifts and Gadzooks, than goddamnit, you can make it anywhere.
As is the case with Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. You think a culturally void restaurant franchise based off of a movie from 1994 got to where it was by locally sourcing ingredients or worrying about the relevance of Forrest Gump decades later? Fuck no. It got where it is by strong arming the movie Forrest Gump back into relevancy and giving people the perception that they’ve graduated from T.G.I. Fridays.
You go to Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. for the rustic southern atmosphere, the Forrest Gump replica memorabilia and to avoid conversations with family members by staring blankly at the loop of Forrest Gump playing on one of the thousand flat screen TVs. Most of these restaurants appear completely deserted, occupied only by a disheartened host or hostess touting a sheepish smile. Most people are too scared to enter, either because they haven’t brushed up on their Forrest Gump trivia (idiots) or because they feel uncomfortable when the host/hostess is forced to play guitar nude in front of the restaurant…just like Jenny. Nothing like biting into a steaming hot, garlic jumbo shrimp the size of your head and watching a painstaking guitar performance as scolding hot butter drips down your chin! Mm hmm! Yum!
But fear not! This list of handy tips and tricks will have you ordering like a clueless tourist in no time!
- Load up on over-embroidered, oversized Bubba Gump Co. t-shirts. Every family member should be wearing it tucked snuggly into their jeans. There should be tremendous bunching right at the crotch that causes a perpetual state of adjustment for the entire meal. After the purchase look for dad to stare perplexed and enraged at the receipt wondering how 5 shirts could cost $200.For extra fun, buy a trucker hat or visor and turn upside down or sideways, the wait staff loves it! You didn’t hear it from me…you may even get a free shrimp tail!
- Be sure to leer and mockingly scream Run Forrest Run! At the disgruntled wait staff as they wearily traverse the slick floor with a massive tray of loose shrimp and novelty cocktails. As a fun prank yell Stop Forrest Stop! To get them to look at you right before you break into a giggling fit with the rest of the family. A story that you can tell your kids to truly portray that you were just as big of an asshole then as you are now!
- Indulge in hilariously named dishes and cocktails like; Lt. Dan’s Drunken Shrimp and Lt. Dan’s Pomegranate Punch, which transform depressing alcoholism into charming novelty cocktails and unexceptional seafood!
- Most importantly…reminisce and create new Forrest Gump memories with family and friends. The foundation to any great relationship is the movie Forrest Gump. So tear into a couple of shrimp that haven’t sniffed a deveiner and create memories of watching the movie Forrest Gump that will last a lifetime.
Roscoe Village conceptual brunch spot Endgrain has officially closed it’s doors to reconceptualize. Maybe when it comes back it will be more than just conceptual brunch and actual food will be served. It’s a risky idea that could be considered too corporate, but the exchange of services for money could pay dividends. I tried to go here three times with the same perplexing result every time.
1.) Walk into empty Endgrain around 9:00 a.m.
2.) Ask hostess if we can just sit ourselves or if she needs to seat us
3.) Hostess looks intently at blank piece of paper for 50 seconds to a minute, in complete radio silence
4.) Hostess looks up from sheet and studies face, purposefully sighs
5.) Smugly reports that there aren’t any openings until around 4:30 p.m.
The confirmation of no openings made the hostess so happy she could barely get the words out. She giddily looked at us as though we were escaped felons who had no business in the establishment. Fighting through tears of joy she finally gave us the news and relished in our disappointed looks. I’m pretty sure she smoked a cigarette after. I literally couldn’t be more certain that this place was selling the idea of brunch. If you had an ironic enough mustache you were seated, and got the opportunity to discuss imaginary food pairings. I’ll be damned if I give whatever pompous turd emerges from this a chance.
The glistening bacon sprawled gently on top of a considerable pile of orange chicken, resembling a slight but noticeable dew gathering on the grass blades of a freshly cut lawn on a spring morning in mid-April. Despite its damp exterior the pieces seemed weightless. Several drifting vessels sailing slowly but purposefully across a sea of orange. As my fork neared the sleeping beast, there was a certain reverence, an understanding of the damage that it was about to afflict on me. Eating a double order of Bacon Orange Chicken from Panda Express was spiritual and life affirming. A fast food vision quest.
The instantaneous runny nose was anticipated, it remains a standard and manageable side effect to eating at Panda Express. The supernatural richness and saltiness of the bacon however brought on a fresh onslaught of head-spinning consequences. About halfway through the disorientation set in. Beginning first with euphoria, I sat, laughing fully and uncontrollably at nothing in particular. Next was a slipping plastic fork, a tingling sensation signaling the loss of feeling in my left arm. This was a pretty unfamiliar feeling, I couldn’t tell if it was the orange sauce playing tricks on me or if I was about to have the big one. I sat wondering who had turned up the thermostat and hoped it was the former. Maybe someone wasn’t at the thermostat at all, in fact I’m not sure our building has one. I was on another plane of existence.
Through this feral state there was an unquenchable thirst that had awakened. The sodium had depleted every ounce of moisture my body had held. Cracked knuckles and dander had all but developed in the half hour of eating. Make sure to have plenty of moisturizer and anti-dandruff shampoo if you decide to embark on this journey. I drank about 100 oz’s of water throughout the meal and my mouth was still a sandbox the rest of the day. Also little known fact that once digested the combination of orange chicken and bacon creates cement. Or if not cement an unstoppable adhesive. After the fever finally broke I felt like a new man, both physically and spiritually cleansed.
The dim red glow was about as welcoming as it gets. That and the infinitely deep stare from the panda silhouette on the front of the building. The second “S” in the neon sign had a hypnotic flicker, it made the establishment feel dingy and cozy. A scent from a mysterious, and time old Chinese recipe wafted out of the doors through the cold and into my welcoming nose. This is what fueled Sun Tzu’s army. This is what turned Kanye completely mad. Double orange, half chow, half fried rice.
The paste that cradled the chicken could have been used as the adhesive to build The Great Wall. It’s sticky synthetic tasting goodness enveloped me making me momentarily full and happy. Lively conversations swirled about, politics, illuminati, love lost and the afterlife. The atmosphere was a catalyst for all things intellectual. The next president of the United States was eating a Panda bowl in the booth adjacent to mine. These are the building blocks of life. There are trace amounts of Orange chicken sauce on the Constitution.
After the last piece was devoured I felt an immense tiredness. I seemed glue to my seat, my arms glued to the table. I was talking to my friend though I can’t recall what about. I think it was a rather concrete plan to end world hunger, but I can’t be certain. I promptly stood up and staggered to the door. I walked dizzily back to my office and wrestled with heavy eyelids for the remainder of the day.