Friday, July 9, 2010

Competitive Eating, You're Doing it Right


As I mentioned a few posts ago, I recently took a trip to Topsail Island in North Carolina. Five friends in 2 cars, and I opted to ride down with two stinky boys. Seven and a half hour car ride. Longest. Drive. Ever.

My friend Joe picked me up at 4:30 in the morning. I managed to spill half a can of soda in his car; this is a guy who keeps no napkins in his car because I'm sure he thinks they junk up his glove box. Also? I'm pretty sure he could kick my ass.


I realize I look kind of like Zippy in that picture. About halfway into the trip, we stopped for breakfast. I sat next to my bff, Jane, where we proceeded to eat off each others' plates without asking, as we tend to do. So as we neared the end of the meal, Jane realized that I'd eaten a majority of her stewed apples. Those bitches were good, real good... the kind you only get at the most old-school of restaurants. She held up an oversized chunk of apple on her fork and yelled, "thanks for saving me this uncooked LUMP!"

It made me laugh, because she expressed absolutely no interest in them through the whole meal. Then, she asked if I wanted to split a biscuit, so I agreed. I grabbed one since they were closest to me, and used a knife to cut it down the middle. Even Stevens. I put half on her plate. Jane looked at it and says, "I didn't want it halved that way!" with such desperation in her voice, I thought she might start kicking her legs under the table, slapping her hands on the table top, burst into tears and then melt down into the floor.

So I said back, in a crazed low voice, "you didn't think you were getting the top half of the biscuit, did you? Because if you did, you're insane."

Then I realized -- we were fighting over a biscuit.

I don't have any siblings, so I never experienced this kind of thing growing up. My dad had 7 siblings, so he was a master at competitive eating. My mom and I would eat leisurely while he actively piled his plate with meat, sides, and went for vegetables last -- space allowing. He would eat in that order, too. I always did (and still do) start with the vegetables, saving all the best stuff for last.

But when I'm around Jane... it awakens a sibling rivalry I never knew I had. We are brutal when it comes to food. And if she thinks she's going to get the salty, buttery, delicious top of any biscuit of mine, well... she better be prepared to throw down.

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