Well, here it is. My doughnut of shame.

Most people wouldn't attempt to eat a very large doughnut in under 80 seconds after consuming several enchiladas, a considerable amount of refried beans, a basket of nachos, a few margaritas and another doughnut covered in M & Ms. But, as we all know, I'm not most people. Most people possess things like common sense and a rationale desire to avoid making themselves puke on random surfaces like, say, hipsters.

I took the "Tex-ass Challenge" at Voodoo Doughnut on Cinco de Mayo and failed more spectacularly than anyone else who has ever undertaken it, I'm sure. The challenge requires a participant to consume a glazed doughnut the size of five glazed doughnuts in under 80 seconds. Those who succeed probably come down with "the dia-beet-us," as Wilford Brimley would put it but, on the other hand, they don't have to shell out four bucks for the doughnut. 47 hours later, I still have yet to finish the damn thing. The half I couldn't manage to stuff down my throat is still siting in a paper bag in my refrigerator.

To get a better idea of how big these things are, click here.

I still say I deserve some sort of prize for even attempting such a Herculean task, given the contents of my stomach at the time. While I managed to avoid regurgitating a full Mexican meal and lots of deep fried dough all over the person working behind the counter that night, I woke up the next morning feeling like I was 20-months pregnant with hippo quintuplets.

So now the bar is set. I'm scratching "graduate from medical school" off my bucket list. One evening, it could be tomorrow, it could be three decades from now, I will return to Voodoo Doughnut and successfully consume one of those very large glazed baked goods in under 80-seconds. It may take years of training and years off my life. I may have to gain 200 pounds or lose 70 (the winners of eating contestants always seem to weigh, like, 90 pounds) but this is something I've got to do for reasons I can't quite explain.

Oh. Right. Stupidity. That's it, good old fashioned American stupidity. I think I should make this my new "five year plan."

Also...

Is it wrong of me to think "Wow, Brimley's only 73?" after reading his Wikipedia page? It seems like he's been over 70 since whenever Cocoon came out.

Labels: failure, fried foods, stupidity, Wilford Brimley