In high school my buddy Mark would dare me to eat weird things he came up with, whether it was 6 packets of bucket on a Hershey bar, or mix a bunch of crap into a drink and offer me $1.00 to drink it up. Depending on the level of nastiness I would consider, and normally I would have no problem being a brave soul for him and downing something normal people would run away screaming from.
Because of these experiences I have an iron stomach. Just like the old cast iron pan your grandmother has used for 30 years my stomach is perfectly seasoned and can handle anything you throw at it. I've had food poisoning more than a few times, and I'm sure if my stomach was of lesser strength and fortitude I could be the walking poster child for Salmonella.
But I'm not. I've endured a lot and I imagine through the years I'll go through even more.
Today I almost met my match. In an effort to be a more spending conscious fellow I opted to buy some $1.00 lunches from the grocery store. Normally mine are twice that, sometimes more, and lunch for the week should cost me about $10. I figured I'd try them out, see what happens, and go from there.
Now, normal people might try one, maybe two, but they don't hurry up and buy half a dozen like I did.
The other day I tried one, and it was dry as hell, and was so small I was starving after. I've never had a meal out of a box that was that astoundingly small. I just didn't get it.
So I changed it up today and brought two. I figured that would work out well, and I brought some other good stuff to munch on too. I nuked both of them, brought them back to my desk and noticed a couple things:
The first thing I noticed was the food on the cover looked nothing at all like what I was about to eat. The cover food looks sooooooo delicious with layers of ricotta cheese (and allegedly, 4 other cheeses), and some nice mozzarella cheese on top. But that's not what I got. I could barely see any cheese on top, it wasn't 5 layers like it looks like it is on the box, mine was extremely orange, and it tasted like what I imagine Uta Peppig's diarrhea would have tasted like when it ran down her leg during the Boston Marathon.
After that car accident, I got back in the car and figured you can't screw up noodles, chicken and alfredo sauce. What the fuck was I thinking.
Again, not as advertised. Funny thing, it says it has chicken in it. The only chicken I found was a piece the size of my pinky fingernail that you can see in the top left of the box sitting by its lonesome. Other than that no "chicken" or "chicken products" or "by products" were found. And neither was anything that resembled something tasty. This shit was nasty. Imagine what it would be like to boil some noodles, melt all of your G.I. Joe guys in the microwave and coat those noodles with your newfound plasticy goodness. Now you know what I just ate.
I couldn't finish it. That's the true sign of something nasty, when I don't finish it. In fact, I wasn't hungry for anything after. For a while. I'm actually still not.
I would also like to know what the fuck "Chef Inspired Recipe" means. At first thought I figured it could be a prison chef and how they slowly try to kill inmates with the food, but their food is way better quality than this. I'd love to know what chef inspired that dogmess. I'd love to meet him and bitch slap him.
Worst $2.00 I ever spent in my entire life.
