Smyth Disappoints

Would You Like Fries With That: In an Unprecedented Eating Challenge, Smyth Disappoints

Updated: August 30, 2006, 02:18 PM ET

(Somewhereland, US) Just one day after consuming 10 Yodels in 8 minutes, Gregory Smyth failed to impress in his second eating challenge of the week.

As would be expected, there was a handful of GregFat participants with varying degrees of interest in Smyth, who was victimized by a challenge that he had a very slim chance of winning. Those long the market considered this a step toward an impressive December number, while those who remain short watched in relief as he failed to finish the ten McDonalds cheeseburgers. This incomplete may be indicative of reduced food intake and a possible diet. This is supported by his choice of honeydew melon for breakfast and salad for lunch, but is refuted by his gravitational pull toward meat-loaded pizzas and willingness to consume mass quantities of junk food the instant a glove is thrown down daring him to do so. It’s also possible that his ability to mass-consume food is limited to snack cakes produced by a duck with a chef’s hat on.

Even with permission to take more than the allotted 15 minutes to finish the burgers, Smyth admitted that he would have been able to finish one more, at best. “I just hate to disappoint the fans, ya know?”

A panel of judges ruled that he had 15 minutes to complete 10 cheeseburgers, and would be allowed to pair this meal with a beverage to decrease the danger of choking. Several bets were placed, and the event commenced at 12:37 p.m., EST. Spectators of the Cheeseburger Challenge should have predicted a failure to complete when, during the first burger, he commented, “That’s a LOT of bread!” Still, he ate the first with relative ease, finishing it in 50 seconds—well below the necessary pace. Burgers 2 (1:10), 3 (1:20) and 4 (1:13) were a breeze as well, but soon afterward, he appeared to hit the wall. Several mysterious burping noises escaped, and he was warned by one bettor that “(his) incessant mumbling has cost me 20 seconds” and to knock it off. Another concerned bettor recognized that perhaps it was a pseudo-cry for help. If this was the case, the cry went unanswered, and he trudged on, consuming the 5th in two minutes.

“Do they still TASTE good?!?” heckled a spectator.

“Can you smell the pickles???” hollered another.

“You’re ALL going to be smelling pickles in a minute!” he threatened. The threat was taken seriously and precautionary steps were taken. Two trash receptacles were moved next to him in the event of an emergency.

He took on an even whiter pallor than normal as the paparazzi captured the last painful bites.

“HE’S LOOKING PASTY! TURN THE HEAT ON!!!” someone cried. “EVERYONE START SWAYING LEFT AND RIGHT!”

“You already are,” he mumbled between bites before finishing Burger 7. Rather than subject his fan base to a Gallagher like explosion, he distributed the remaining three patties to a few lucky spectators.

A former 140-pounder from South Windsor Connecticut, the large-and-in-charge Smyth has been on a steady incline since, including a 15+ pound gain since November. His best showing in the Eating Challenge arena remains the Yodel massacre that occurred on August 29, 2006.

The next eating challenge has not yet been announced, but it is anticipated that it could occur on any given day during the next week.


***

Would you like fries with that?

A new challenge is upon us!

Another day, another pound. Today's GregFat Challenge: can he eat 10 McDonalds cheeseburgers in less than an hour? Details are being hashed out, and Paul has offered to sponsor the event. Greg will be allowed a beverage on account of the buns, and it seems as though the time limit will hover around 40/45 minutes.

If successful, Greg will have consumed:
3100 calories (almost the equivalent of one pound of fat - 3500 calories)
120 grams of fat (190% DRV)
60 grams of saturated fat (168% DRV)
7400 mg of sodium (310% DRV)
and a whopping 10 grams of fiber (50% DRV)

This is a great investment for the long GregFatsters. Odds will be accepted for a variety of bets, including whether or not he can keep it all down. Sean seems to think that this is an impossibility, and has recommended that I pick up a bucket in addition to the burgers (an absence of barf on the floor is the only thing separating our "professional office" space from a frathouse). Rich said that he'd get better results if we installed a pole. Allow me to explain: Back in the fall, the guys took Greg out for his bachelor party and he managed to vomit on a stripper WHILE receiving a lapdance. This infamous event is brought up at every opportunity in conversation, and Rich has informed everyone that he isn't above referring to the burgers as "Cinnamon," "Aura" and "Mystique," if nature doesn't force a backlash this afternoon.

I will keep you posted.

Yodels as a dietary supplement?

I’d like everyone to know in advance that yes, I’m writing this in Microsoft Word and yes, upon completion, I will be posting it onto the blog site. Thank you for your wisdom. Or for reminding me that I continue to employ half of my brain, at best.

The summer continues to drag; so does the job. I’ve considered quitting my blog for fear of its discovery and the likely fallout that would result. Remember, I can’t get fired until January 1, 2007. The only way around this issue is to blog from home. Unfortunately, I’ve been getting some intense headaches at work, so staring at a computer screen when I return home from staring at three monitors all day is less than appealing. I’m attributing these annoying headaches to work-related stress (or, from pondering the correct pronunciation and implications of "moral turpitude"), and am going to ask for worker’s comp.

UNFORTUNATELY, I’d say that my chances of receiving it are as likely as Sean losing weight, but he has been doing so successfully as of late thanks to the Nutrisystem diet. For those of you who don’t have the pleasure of watching CNBC all day, every day, a commercial is played for Nutrisystem during every single commercial break. The two ads seem to alternate between Dan Marino* and this brunette woman who will be lucky if I don’t javelin her size two body into the nearest brick wall if I run into her on the street. Basically, she spends the entire commercial giggling and holding her waistband while reiterating, “This is a two! Tee-hee!” For reasons I may never comprehend, her flaky laugh and bimbo voice is painfully irritating to me, and I can’t help but cringe each time she touts the wonder that is Nutrisystem. This is the second most annoying commercial ever**, and I would resort to dire dieting methods including (but not limited to) Atkins, cabbage soup, leeks and even *gasp* good old-fashioned exercise before I gave these people any money. I guess it’s fitting that Sean selected Nutrisystem for his dietary supplement, and despite my hatred for the advertising, he has lost a total of 7 pounds in 11 days or something, which would be the equivalent of a normal person losing 4 eyelashes, maybe 5. He has quite a way to go before we can refer to him as “Skinny” without being reprimanded for our sarcasm, or before he can fit into a Size 2 (XXL). Regardless, his attempt to avoid a massive coronary is in my best interest: He drops, we drop and it's time to find a new job (prematurely). This is one of 3 diets he claims he will be testing (doctor’s orders, I presume) for Greg to go on no earlier than January 1, 2007 (Sean is really, really long December GregFat).

Greg has claimed to be on a diet himself, but adamantly refuses to start weighing in until the GregFat participants begin actively trading his pounds. He has been consuming honeydew melon for breakfast and salad for lunch lately, but I believe this to be a show as he doesn’t appear to be losing any weight whatsoever. He’s either maintaining (or gaining), or has stepped over to the dark side and is helping Katie smuggle the larger playground balls out to her car. He cannot resist temptation, and today exemplified that.

It goes without saying that I work with a competitive bunch of 12-year-old boys. In retrospect, I should have checked to see if they would be participating in the Little League World Series. Anyway, Greg has no willpower, so when Rich challenged him, “Betcha can’t eat a box of Yodels in 20 minutes,” it was go-time, and the various bets pooled in from around the desk. A similar contest was held back in April, but he had to eat as many Devil Dogs as possible within 15 minutes without any sort of beverage. Based on data gathered at this previous event (he ate 6.5 Dogs before nearly experiencing the dreaded “reversal of fortunate”), it was predicted that he could consume 6 Yodels in 10 minutes without a drink. Greg scoffed at his doubters, and Paul (of all people) took 20 whole minutes off of the desk to track down Yodels at Stop and Shop (I should note that side bets were taken as to whether or not he had the capacity to find them as there were doubts he’d ever been in a grocery store, period), and at 12:53 EST, the contest commenced. We watched curiously as he blew through the first 3 2-packs within 4 minutes, but then he slooowed down. The last 4 were painful to watch: It appeared as though Greg ran out of saliva, and actually had to chew each snack cake rather than counting on being able to swallow them whole (with assistance from the chocolate coating). Still, he pressed on and at the 8 minute mark, all that remained were 5 mangled packages. Theoretically, he consumed 200% of his DRV of saturated fat, but he claims that he’s double the size of a normal person so it’s practically normal. This line of reasoning, my friends, is how you hit 275 pounds. Surprisingly, it all amounted to a mere 1400 calories. Upon dissemination of this info, the desk scoffed at the size of the “puny” Yodels, claiming that “they used to be much bigger.” I’m sure there’s some truth to that—if I had to walk uphill both ways in the snow to get snack-cakes, I’d expect them to be the size of bricks as well. After some debate as to whether or not Greg’s feat should be considered legitimate due to the size of the diminutive Yodels, everyone paid up and prepared for the metals close as though nothing had ever happened.

Diet, my ass. I encourage everyone to buy December contracts between 265 and 275.

No other new and startling news, really. Jessica turned the big 3-0 today, and seemed to take it in stride. She complained that a few of her girlfriends had been bitter on their 30th and sent her emails/cards trying to induce the same effect, but she was having none of that. We did our part by singing a much more spirited version of “Happy Birthday” than normal***, and she praised our effort before indulging in a piece of cake (which, by the way, Greg couldn’t eat as he was feeling quite ill from the box of Yodels).

That’s all, folks. Until tomorrow. At 7:30 a.m. Oof.


*Who, thanks to Nutrisystem has lost 22 pounds and claims, “I’ve gotta new nickname: Skinny.” Yes, that’s the kind of award-winning acting you would expect from one of the “Ace Ventura” stars. As an aside, does anyone ever remember a FAT Dan Marino? Please provide a convincing photograph.

** Please see the most annoying commercial ever here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hyIXAYTOryQ . Watch it more than once, and you’ll want to apply a gun directly to your forehead.

*** There was a birthday practically every week in May and June, and the birthday song was reduced to nearly inaudible mumbling by the time July rolled around. This “Unbirthday Song” was a common occurrence at CX, as no one had quite caught on to the fact that maybe 55 birthdays really weren’t special enough to necessitate splurging on 55 individual Baskin Robbins cakes and forcing whichever unfortunate employees were present to sing to someone they may have only spoken 5 words with.

After an hour of blogging, Firefox erased the whole damn entry.

So screw it. I tried. My browser ate my homework.

quite possibly the best bumper stickers ever

For the guy who intentionally parks his hot rod in two parking spaces. For the guy who intentionally parks his car in two spaces, but tries to make it look like an accident. And for the guy who parks in two spaces because he's an idiot.

www.iparklikeanidiot.com

And feel free to slap one on my car if deserved.

on why my license should be revoked

I almost hit a wild turkey today. Almost. See, I would have, but I only hit stationary objects.

Think of every single negative behavior associated with female drivers (spacing out, an inability to park, the tendency of getting into a disproportionate number of accidents, etc.). I lend some serious credibility to this stereotype. A small segment of my impressive driving record includes: hitting various objects including (but not limited to) a squirrel, gas station post, countless shopping carts, countless curbs/medians, 3 parked cars, 1 boulder( next time you notice something that's dented, it's safe to assume that I've marked my territory), running out of various fluids necessary for operating the vehicle (windshield wiper fluid, gasoline, transmission fluid) and perhaps my claim to fame: I once drove 15 miles on the highway, going 65-70 miles per hour with three tires. The fourth wasn't flat. It was gone. When I arrived home, all that remained was the wheel and some rubber that had melted onto it. And no, I didn't notice while on the road.

Yep, I suck at driving. It's not something I'm proud of, but I will admit it. I've heard that's the first step to recovery in some circles, but I think driver's education is probably the appropriate solution in my case. I try to drive as little as possible in an effort to avoid a mishap and perhaps more importantly, the ridicule that usually follows such an incident. I took the train when I worked at CX, and relocated when my lease was up so that it was within walking distance. I gave up that commute to work at XXX. At the time, it seemed like the right move (ha!), and the drive was something I'd be willing to do to advance my career (HAHA!). Regardless, the roads haven't been the same since.

The drive consists of 40 minutes worth of windy, hilly roads--most of them in a heavily wooded area. So in addition to the typical obstacles (squirrels, trees, guardrails, children), larger objects come into play. These bonus objects tend to consist of deer (lots and lots of deer), turkeys (also growing in numbers) and felled trees. The deer issue can be attributed to the fact that the towns en route to work don't believe in culling them. Why do something humane like shoot them, when you can hit them with your car? I hardly think death is instantaneous in most cases, and then there's the obvious damage to the car and possibly to the car's occupants. The turkey issue is beyond my comprehension, but it does answer the question, "Why did the turkey cross the road?" The possible answers are, "To piss me off,"To cause cars to parkin the middle of the road to admire the fowl" (these are the same people who oppose deer-hunting) or "To necessitate swerving and/or braking hard," rather than, "To prove he wasn't chicken." As for the trees, I guess they just don't make 'em like they used to.

I spend a majority of this daily commute on autopilot (not much different than my work day). When someone asks me for directions, I respond with a blank stare. I have no idea which streets I navigate, which towns I'm passing through or even notable landmarks. I remember stupid things. I could tell you that each morning, I pass an Asian man walking on the first non-highway leg of my trip. I could tell you that this guy picked up a walking partner this week, and didn't wear his visor. I could not, however, tell you the name of the street he walks (and I drive) on. I could tell you that I pass a house that puts hats on the fir trees in their front yard. There are five of these trees, and this week they are wearing Robin Hood hats (feather and all). Last week, it was birthday hats, and for most of the month of June, mortar boards. What I can't tell you is the name of the town the hat-wearing conifers hail from. I pass a newly built house on my right each morning, and the realtor representing the property is Tom Thomas. I find his name annoying, but I couldn't tell you what color the house is. I also pass a cranberry-red mustang every day, and I use him as a guage of how late I'm going to be.

Somehow, I get to work.

On day 1, my coworkers urged me to pay close attention during my morning commute as this is when the deer are running amok. First of all, paying attention to anything that isn't either within hitting distance of my car (as in it's too late! smash/splat/whatever) or completely weird (trees that wear hats???) while driving is going to be nearly impossible, as I'm the stereotypical woman driver. Secondly, paying attention to ANYTHING in the morning is asking a lot. In addition to closely monitoring my surroundings, you expect me to do so while my eyes are half shut and I'm trying to apply mascara with one hand and alternating unwrapping a granola bar and fiddling with radio dials with the other? I've actually gotten into the shower with socks on before. Fortunately, my experience has proven otherwise--the fauna tend to creep/jump/trot across the road on my way home since I'm usually running a little behind in the morning. This works out best for all parties involved, as I'm caffeinated and focused (sort of) on the road as I want to get home ASAP. The only thing to get between me and the comfort of my bed is nature, and today was one of those days. Ahab had the great white whale, I have the ugly-ass turkeys. More and more of them are lining the streets and consequently slowing down the Jetta's voyage home. Theoretically, these things can fly so I'm convinced they're doing this out of spite. These birds are immune to horn beeping (not that my honk is overly intimidating--it sounds like Roadrunner), and as ugly as they are, I can't bring myself to hit one on purpose as I'm an animal lover (an animal lover who happens to believe in culling deer), and there's the added danger of strength in numbers. I'm reduced to brooding in my car as Tom Turkey struts his stuff, shakin' those tailfeathers and bobbing his hideous head. Today, however, Tom launched a sneak attack and emerged from some high grass as I drove up, forcing me to swerve or smack him. His surprise offensive startled me and caused me to risk life and limb to avoid 18 pounds of feathers (this, despite the fact that I was armed with 2800 pounds of steel). I swerved, and it was a blessing that there was no oncoming traffic.

If nothing else, I learned today that the turkey has proven itself to be the superior species. That, and perhaps I have no business driving.

And just like that...

It was August. August 8th. So much for consistent entries.

New Year's Resolutions:
1. Find new job
2. Blog regularly--wait a minute, please refer to #1

I'm blaming part of my inconsistency on the fact that I'm afraid to blog at work (God forbid I get fired!) and the other part on my tendency to get easily distracted (wow, is that cursor BLINKING???). Anyway, for what it's worth, my apologies.

I've been wondering where the hell my summer went, and I suspect it's hidden somewhere behind the 3 blinding Bloomberg screens that I have had the pleasure of squinting at all day long. It's sort of like looking at the sun, except that I'm 1) still pasty white 2) sitting in a totally ergonomically incorrect seat rather than, say, a chaise lounge and 3) I'm very, very bitter. Where's my margarita??? Where's my sunburn??? Has anyone seen the ice cream truck??? It seems as though I should be spending more of my days barefoot in the grass outdoors, listening to the crickets and cicadas and enjoying the extended daylight, but I have yet to construct a convincing argument as to why I should either be able to relocate my operations outdoors or take the remainder of the summer off. On the plus side, I did stay nice and cool during that oppressive heat wave last week as the office temperature is consistenly lower than our moral standards, necessitating the introduction of a sweater and blanket to my typical summer attire.

Everyone has been in and out of the office as a result of scheduled vacations, so things have been pretty quiet (work-wise). This hasn't translated into shorter days, but it feels as though there has been less chaos to deal with, even in spite of Paul's ticket-writing bender last week. He was on such a roll...and then I start getting tickets missing vital information, or with incorrect information. Examples: ticket doesn't indicate which commodity he traded, ticket has an options price but states that it was a future, wrong forward dates, wrong quantities--he's even screwed up his own initials! I know that a lot of the previous sentence may make no sense to you, so, in summary, he made a lot of mistakes and it took time to unravel them (which is what I'm there for). I cut him some slack as he is moving, and that whole process has given him myriad problems that I can't identify with (ah, the trials and tribulations of finding matching slabs of marble). He finally closed this week, however, so the grace period is over. No more mister nice guy.***

Greg is out this week, which means longer hours for Katie and I. I've actually been !!!EARLY!!! the past two days (disclaimer: "early" as used in this sentence and subsequent ones may mean "on time" and is subject to A's discretion) to ensure that the morning processes run smoothly. Paul noticed, expressed his gratitude and told me it wasn't necessary (though we both know it is). One of the models I've been setting up tracks the funds' various positions throughout the day. I know this sounds fancy, but basically involves cut and paste in an Excel notebook. Don't act like you aren't impressed. Still, I was shown this twice prior to Greg's departure, and the cutting/pasting process is somewhat complicated. The information this model supplies is very important, and I'm claiming the fact that it seems to be spitting out the correct information as a small victory. I have to get there early and throw it all together as Paul often asks me for another report that can only be run after this first model is set up. In a way, I wish someone would ask me for the information that the model produces rather than Katie since I DID set it up and would like to try and prove that I'm neither lazy nor incompetent. It's assumed that she sets it up, but what can you do. I've never been one to seek out attention or recognition for my actions, but it's getting to a point where I'm going to need Paul to vouch for me if anyone asks.

My "huh" moment occurred today as I passed Bill on the way to Stop and Shop and he gave me a high five. Completely random. An effective means of nonverbal communication, but I'm not sure what its workplace interpretation is, so I'm assuming it's, "YourulebutI'mnotsureyou'recutoutforfinancewhyareyoustillhererunrunlikehell!" I could be wrong. He recently returned from vacation and took tons of pictures, all of which I look forward to viewing. I figure a slideshow accompanied by a little blurb about each picture is bound to kill twenty minutes or so...maybe three, if he explains them all with a single high five.

If I hear that Paris Hilton song on the way to work again tomorrow morning, I'm finding myself a large tree to introduce to my Jetta.


***"Gal" sounds strange there, and I think I've been overexposed to testosterone during the day anyway. This has lead to several undesirable side effects including a failure to remember important dates, a craving for cheeseburgers and beer, an inability to multitask and an obsession with checking www.espn.com every 5 minutes. Please send "Dirty Dancing," "Sleepless in Seattle," a box of tissues, recordings of "I Will Survive" (Gloria Gaynor version) and "I'm Every Woman" (Whitney Houston pre-Bobby Brown/crack addiction), some Lindt chocolate, 1 copy each of Glamour, Cosmopolitan, and Marie Claire and a box of tampons posthaste. Actually, nevermind.