My Love

If I was forced to eat one food and one food only, it’d be chicken wings.

Some Mexican food lovers might think that prior statement is blasphemy, and it would be except for the fact that chicken wings are the greatest thing ever. I’m actually serious about them being the greatest thing ever. I fucking love chicken wings.

Besides tasting amazing, you usually eat them at a bar. Being at a bar is always a plus. Being at a bar with sports on, while eating chicken wings is one of my five ideal days. I’m in love with chicken wings. I mean, I’m really in love with chicken wings. It’s unclear to me where the love exactly started, but I know I don’t have to worry about it ending.

My love is borderline unhealthy, alright it’s completely unhealthy. When I was a freshman in college and was on a diet I got one day off a week. I picked my day off around the day the cafeteria served Buffalo Chicken Sandwich. I have once eaten 52 wings in a single sitting. That’s more than anyone else I know. Once during my junior year the only food I had for four straight days were chicken wings. It’s safe to say I really am a fan of the chicken wings.

I bring up chicken wings because my consumption of chicken wings are about to dramatically increase with football right around the season and this excites me greatly. I have high expectation for both the Tigers and the Chargers and thus I find solace in the fact that there will be chicken wings waiting to help me deal with the disappointment.

I’m off to go eat some wings.