Last week I wrote an article outlining IHOP’s all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast, so naturally, I attempted to eat as many as I could today. I obviously smoked a fat bowl before I attempted this challenge, because there are no rules about performance-enhancing drugs in eating competitions with only one competitor. Fellow Foodbeaster Peter Pham joined me for this adventure.
Here’s how it all went down:
10:36 am – Pete and I arrive at IHOP. The bowl I smoked in the shower this morning is now in full effect, and I’m starving.
10:38 am – I take a trip to the bathroom to release my bowels from the clutches of yesterday’s evils. The walls in here are adorned with frightening phrases like “help me” and “I’m dying.” Am I in a Walking Dead episode? I order my pancakes and am shocked at the price.
11:04 am – I finish my first plate of 4 pancakes, along with my bacon. The woman on the table next to me has a child who keeps throwing his food on the floor. Your child is a h8er. When your child grows up, he will likely be a Sith Lord.
11:07 am – I ask our waitress Brenda to inform me what the current franchise record is for most pancakes. She doesn’t know. She asks her manager, but he doesn’t know either. What DO you know? I commission Brenda to inform everyone in the kitchen that I intend to fuck shit up today by breaking records. She smiles and winks at me. She wants the D, but I only want the P. Pancakes.
11:09 am – The second order of pancakes arrives, putting me at six total. I use strawberry syrup because I’m kind of a thrill seeker. I immediately regret my decision, strawberry syrup is hot ocean poop. I’m starting to feel my stomach stretch, but I’m not even close to finished.
11:17 am – I order my next plate of pancakes. Brenda won’t stop feeling me up with her eyeballs.
11:25 am – Two ladies are sitting next to us with a child. I ask them questions about their all-you-can-eat experience. One lady says she only got two pancakes and called it quits. I want to berate her mercilessly for bringing shame to all-you-can-eat enthusiasts everywhere. I want to do that thing where you kick the back of someone’s knees and they fall. Instead I opt to just say, “haha, cute kid.” Alas, it was not a cute kid.
11:31 am – I have now eaten 8 pancakes. I continue drinking soda in the hopes that I get that one huge burp that’s so profound that it gives me “second stomach.”
11:42 am – It’s someone’s birthday on the other side of my booth’s partition. Brenda and her roving gang of pancake peddlers go to sing songs of jubilation to the young patron. I stand in my booth and join in and become more vocal and animated than any of the employees. Some would call that leadership. It’s whatevs.
11:48 am – IHOP is playing 50’s pop songs and they’re kind of terrifying. Maybe it’s my high brain, but they’re the kind of songs you’d see in horror movie trailers, where the sound is fun and light, but the image is of some mutated serial killer slaughtering a group of idiotic high schoolers.
11:49 – Pete cuts my pancakes for me, heart him ❤️❤️❤️
10 Pancakes In…
11:51 am – I’ve now eaten 10 pancakes. I’m not crazy full, I feel like I can eat a lot more. Brenda keeps dropping DJ Khaled references. I know our love is forbidden, but she’s making it hard (that’s what she said).
12:03 pm – Just finished two more pancakes. I’m starting to feel bloated. Is this what pregnancy is? Because it’s not beautiful, it’s awful.
12:05 pm – I just ordered more, a strong feeling of hatred towards myself brewing in the pits of my belly. I’ve rolled up my sleeves and unbuttoned another button on my shirt. DJ Brenda Beatz just informed me that the record is actually 22 pancakes. The manager warns me to be careful if I try to beat the record. I warn him to get the funk out of my face before I eat him too.
16 Pancakes In…
12:16 pm – More pancakes arrive. I hate everything, 16 pancakes is insane, I quit. I’m also so disgusted with myself, when normally, I turn me on. Not today.
12:29 pm – B brings more pancakes. I don’t quit, quitting is for quitters. The back of my eyeballs hurt, and my throat feels swollen. I wonder if I am dying. I bet I could sweat pancake batter right now.
12:38 pm – I’m 16 pancakes deep now. I hate pancakes. I contemplate puking in the bathroom. Pete requests that I not be a “punk bitch” in his presence. His enthusiasm reenergizes me. I plunge deeper into the pancakey abyss. The shirt is off-er than it’s ever been.
18 Pancakes In + PeePee Break…
12:52 pm – I take a peepee break. Somebody is using the stall and has been in there for 15+ minutes. I see him leave the bathroom, and my new bathroom buddy Eddie points out that this filth human never washed his hands. We then see him go back to the kitchen and back to work. We agree that he is hot garbage and part ways. I will miss Eddie.
1:01 pm – 18 pancakes deep. My organs are rupturing on the inside. For some reason I think of Ben Affleck playing with animal crackers on Liv Tyler’s belly in Armageddon. I want that. Ugh, whatever. A boy can dream. Clearly still high, btw.
1:24 pm – I continue high fiving every IHOP employee here for their great work. Except poopy hands. No high five for him. He’s a nasty, nasty boy. My boss suggests that I start doing stretches, so I do them.
1:30 pm– I finally tap out at 19 pancakes. I am disgusted by the sight and smell of them now. I can’t stop scowling at everything. Except Brenda, she is my rock. The bill is $23, but I leave $40 because she earned it. I just found out David Bowie has passed away, so now I’m bloated AND sad.
1:41 pm – We are leaving IHOP. Pete asks, “So what are you doing for lunch?” I tell him to fuck off, with all due respect. I roll around on the ground for a few minutes because I just can’t even right now.
1:51 pm – I finally roll my limp, useless body into the car and get my fat ass home. I’m done with food, FOREVER.
2:06 pm – I ate some cookies at the office. Now I’m really dead.