I write to you today a broken and pitiful man. My head has spent the last 6 days in my hands and my dreams lay broken at my feet. In what was to be a digestive alley-oop, it was found last Wednesday that I cannot buy a bucket. My friends, I was burgin.
Before I go into details, I'd like to talk about what burgin is and, more importantly, what it isn't.
Have you been thinking about getting a few burgers for dinner ever since you woke up? You are burgin.
Did you just decide on a whim to pick up a combo meal for lunch today? You are NOT burgin.
Do you have the urge to eat burgers until your jaw gets tired, and have you felt this way for days? You are burgin.
Does a burger sound kinda, halfway, sorta-ish good right now? You are NOT burgin.
Have you been doing that thing where you're talking to somebody and they begin to look like a burger to you? And you go to compliment them on their shirt and you end up saying something about lettuce? You are burgin. HARD.
The real beginning of this saga was around June 20, when I asked SA's baron of big words, Dr. David Thorpe, if he was burgin at the time. Despite being a completely made up word (or condition, depending on who you ask), he immediately knew what it meant and we spent about an hour talking about the most burgers we'd ever seen, the best burgers we'd ever had, and trading the largest images of burgers we could find on the Internet. Around this time, he confessed to me one of his dreams: Getting a bunch of burgers and stacking into a pyramid. By then it had come to a head, so he, our friend Bruno, and I all took off for the nearest Carl's Jr. restaurant. We sat down with our food, and as our new psychological needs were being satisfied, hardly anything was being said. Probably because nobody needed to say anything.
This behavior continued for weeks. When word began to spread, folks from the SA Forums shared their burgin tips, stories, dreams, and perhaps most importantly, video blogs, with everyone else. Vile, in the video to the right, took the world on a burgin field trip to prove that he wanted to get that burger in him more than anyone else.
He wasn't the only one hit by an irrational need for "dat burg". It was slowly resurfacing with me like some kind of herpes you could eat. Caught off guard by Bruno's claim of eating 3 McDonald's double cheeseburgers and 1 Filet-o-fish in one sitting, I knew I had to do it. I had to make David's dream (which by now was also mine) a reality: I had to conceptualize, design, and participate in...
~THE FIVE BURGER DEATH CHALLENGE~
The rules were quite simple:
and, after all the other objectives are complete,
After a trip to the nearest McD's (which was quite surreal aside from my burger kick, since the place had no drive thru and a homeless guy with 2-inch fingernails was doing these weird, groany push-ups right next to me inside the store as I was waiting to order), I had my work cut out for me. Arriving back home, I was the proud owner of 5 burgs containing 10 all beef patties.
Let me preface this by saying I'm not a 400-pound guy like you'd see on TV or anything, and this is by no means my normal diet. About a year ago I had 2 of these things and fries and couldn't stand to look at food for a good while after, and couldn't stand looking myself in the eye for a good while after that.
SO LET'S BEGIN!!!!!!!!!!
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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