Today will begin a two part entry detailing the second of many couple competition related postings (see Throwdown: 1978 vs 1979). The first competition revolved around birth year superiority and was a beat-down proportion, landslide victory for Megan. The second competition, undocumented to this point, was a good old-fashioned cook-off. I will provide further details regarding the cook-off in a future post, but, despite an impressive personal effort, I was again forced to admit defeat.
While reeling from two resounding losses, I was hoping to find something that could (potentially) grant myself better odds at victory. One night, at a local pub, Megan made a comment about having the capability of eating large quantities of food. Despite the cocky twinkle in her eye, her frail (nearly waifish) physique drew me to the conclusion that this just might be my opportunity to reassert some form of dominance in some category... any category (please?). While I have trimmed down to a weight not visited since early high school, my graduate school days were spent exercising my gastric system to possibly inhuman capabilities. In other words, I can still put it down, I just choose not to. I liked my chances, so I smoothly suggested the next competition in what will become a (likely) life-time long series of battles.
The challenge was accepted (with the only appropriate phrase to accept a challenge - "It's on bitch!") with the date and venue to be determined at a later time. Saturday provided the appropriate conditions. We had eaten an early dinner the night before, neither had eaten breakfast that morning and we had about three hours before the early NFL playoff game was to begin. The rules were determined on the way to the now-determined venue (Chili's). The competition would consist of three rounds* (see the note below for the reasoning behind the selection of the term "rounds"): the appetizer round, the main course round and the dessert round - which must consist of some form of ice cream. After each round is completed a victor is declared before the next round is to begin.
We hit an early snag when we arrived at our venue (camera crews and hundreds of fans in multiple city block caravan formation behind us) only to find that the Chili's had closed some time ago and was now a vacant building. And so, the search began for an alternate setting. Very little time had passed when Megan asked "what's Red Robin?". I slammed on my brake and made a hard left across four lanes of traffic - "It's where we're going" I replied. Had I known there was a Red Robin there, it would have been my selection of venue to begin with.
The competition had been defined, the venue selected, the time was appropriate. "It's on bitch". It's on bitch... indeed.
Check back for Part II tomorrow!
* We debated the use of "rounds" and "stages" as the appropriate descriptor. Stages - as in the Tour de France, as in a grueling competition that can be won with the mentality of longevity over sheer force. Or, rounds - as in boxing, where the beginning of each round signifies a period of knock-down, drag-out competition that can leave one or both competitors bruised and/or broken. We finally decided on "rounds" because the Tour de France is gay.