Tag Archives: competitive eating

We Like Sportz

If you have to refer to yourself as an athlete, you’d better make for damn sure that your sport of choice is actually a sport. (Sorry, skee ball “champions.”)

What is a sport? According to the dictionary in my head, a sport is any type of competitive physical activity that requires some amount of skill and/or expertise. Need examples? Of course you do:

  • Football = sport
  • Basketball = sport
  • Tennis = sport (even though it is often played while wearing a skirt)
  • Golf = not a sport (because driving a golf cart and drinking are not sports)
  • Baseball = sport (even though there are only 32.7 combined seconds of actual action in the entirety of a baseball game, it takes some skill to hit and/or throw a ball)
  • Competitive eating = sport (it takes training and is very physically demanding)
  • Spelling bees = not a sport (that’s mental activity, not physical, and it should not be on ESPN)
  • Running = not a sport (because unless you’re actually running against other people, you’re just some dude who likes sweating and wearing spandex)
  • Race car driving = not a sport (because being a little dude in a hot car and turning left all the time doesn’t qualify)
  • Cheerleading = sport (but I’m only talking about what they do during the games, ifyouknowwhatimean)
  • Darts = not a sport (because no one in the history of the world has ever done it sober)
  • Soccer = sport (even though it mostly just involves kicking other people in the shins)
  • Poker = not a sport (and if you think it is, I will throatpunch you)
  • Pool = sport (arguably more mental than physical, but I’ve had to contort myself into some odd yoga-like poses to get the balls where they need to go, so it totally counts)
  • Video games = not a sport (the only physical activity is moving the Doritos from bag to face)
  • Bowling = sometimes a sport (let’s be honest; it depends on who’s doing it)

So go out there and be an athlete, instead of just an athletic supporter.

Recreational Ridicule

If you have to make fun of someone’s hobby, make sure it’s not awesome according to everyone else. Did that make sense? No? Here’s a hypothetical. Let’s say that I have an awesome hobby, like competitive eating or something. Let’s also say that there are a couple of insufferably awful women (of COURSE they’re women) at work who go out of their way to tell me how stupid, evil, and awful they think competitive eating is.

Being mean to me for being good at competitive eating is much like ridiculing a football player for being good at playing football. I’m good at it, I have a blast doing it, I get free food, my friends and family have a great time cheering me on, and I have awesome stories to tell. Unlike Mr. Football Player, however, I don’t have to endure hours of practice a day, deal with a jerk coach, go to a gym, or wear an athletic supporter.

Awesome stats:

1) The Vending Machine Challenge: This one was big on Wall Street a few years ago. The challenge? Eat one of every item in the vending machine: a bag of M&Ms, a 3 oz. bag of Cheez-Its, a huge iced cinnamon roll, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, mini Oreos, a Butterfinger bar, a bag of peanuts, etc., etc., etc… 25 items in total, in the course of a business day. (Sounds easy, right?) Well, 7845 calories later, I had crushed the challenge. (Ask me about what happened afterward if you’re curious and you have a strong stomach.)

2) A two-pound burger: The challenge was to see how quickly one could eat the burger and the huge bun. I attempted it first just to see if I could get it down. No problem. I ate it (while conversing with friends) in 18 minutes. Some coworkers challenged me to eat it in 12 minutes or less. I accepted, and in front of an audience of a dozen people, I finished the two-pound burger in 6 minutes and 33 seconds (absolutely destroying all previous records, thankyouverymuch).

3) A one-pound burger. Twice. The challenge was to eat a 16 oz. burger (after cooking–it’s 22 oz. before!) with a half-pound bun. Easy. …Well, I ate two. Boom. I’m the only woman who has ever done that at the restaurant that offers the challenge.

So… if you have to make fun of me, make fun of:

a) my huge feet (size 11)

b) the fact that I can’t reliably pronounce the word “February”

c) my inability to turn left on a catwalk when runway modeling

d) the fact that I don’t know how to apply eyeliner

e) how ridiculously excited I get about new socks

f) my undying love of SpongeBob SquarePants

I mean, really…