Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Man Vs. Food - How To Lose Your Lunch

Man Vs. Food - How To Lose Your Lunch

While I'm a sucker for food shows and travel shows. It's when you put the two together and just go to the extreme like they do in Man Vs Food, it's something that I just can't sit through. Cause really, it's pretty goddamn gross.

So really, I just want to make a post about how gross this shit is and things he'd probably or did already say in the few episodes I watched. You know, the ones that I realized he wasn't Patton Oswalt after viewing:

"There is no 'I' in team, but there is 'meat'. There's also 'eat' and 'mate', both things I would like to do to this sandwich."

It really is sound advice for anyone who wants to die of a heart attack at the ripe age of 34.
I've eaten things you people wouldn't believe. 4 pounds of beef on fire off the Pennsylvania turnpike. I consumed 5,000 beans with glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those meals will be lost in time, like the beers... on my plane. Time to die.
Okay, that he didn't say. It's clearly far too poetic for him to say anything near that. But it would have made the episode where he's consuming enough shit to kill a small anaconda a whole lot more bearable.

"Whoa, Toni, getting a little fresh. I like it. Not only the ingredients are fresh here [points to jovial middle-aged woman behind counter]. I got my fries, I got my slaw, that runny egg right there in the middle."

"Oh yeah? Stop babbling! Let me get a word in, you hippie twit. Let me--this is my show! This is my show! Yeah now he clams up. Back to me dropping some wisdom on your trifling ass! Yeah, you call this a pizzeria? Well let me pizza-reiterate something for you, you couldn't even--"

"This has got to be worst month of my life."

"What is this ten pound monster?"

"When the hiccups started I knew it was the beginning of the end."

"Wait, that's Dave? I thought he was Dave. Oh there's two Daves? Jesus Christ."

"I'm in Sarasota Florida here at Munchies 420 Cafe, a place named to confuse the two people left on Earth who don't know that this is a weed reference."

"Look at the size of this god damn pizza! Holy shit! What could possess someone to even dream of making a pizza this big? What kind of even must have happened in your life to make you think, 'Hey, I'll just make a pizza this fucking big and try and market that as a challenge'? What must have happened to you in your life, that you would even consider this? This pizza is so big."

"The kid's got potential, but I need a partner with some serious chow-down cred."

"My eyes won't stop watering, and my tears burn. Oh!"

"At all hazards, a man must keep up appearances. Dignity, I say. Dignity above all, Governor. Hear, hear!"

You sort of expect him to be in a zen like state through most of these things. He must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. He will face his fears. He will permit it to pass over him and through him. And when it has gone past he will take another bit of this sandwich. His eyes and tongue may bleed from the pain but food must not win...

Man vs. Food.

Who will win? The man or the over-sized stuff crust pepperoni pizza? Stay tuned to this exciting battle of will and wits to find out!

Essentially the only good reason I could see myself watching this show is so that I can sequentially see him get fatter and fatter as episodes go on. Do it in one sitting and it'll trip you out. You can do a before and after shot and you too can grow with Adam.

At the very least he's not Guy Fieri. The day Fieri graces your establishment will be the ost money day of your life. But for Guy... it will be but a simple Tuesday. I mean, the guy's a total tool:
Fieri currently lives in Santa Rosa, in northern California, with Lori and two sons, Hunter (age 14) and Ryder (age 5)and has a summer home in Sterling Heights, MI. His 19 tattoos, including one dedicated to Evel Knievel,[3] are part of his look, which he describes as "kulinary gangsta".[9] By mid-2010 he owned nine domestic sports cars and a Lamborghini (later stolen[3] and replaced with a Chevrolet Camaro convertible).[10]
I know that when I need to escape the dreary industrial decay and gridlock of Sonoma County, California, I go to my bucolic summer estate in the Detroit suburbs.

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