There’s this thing.in pizza hut called the “roman feast” where you pay like 14 bucks and have all the pizza you want. We used to go therr after school ocassionaly when i was in highschool, once i ate something like 22 slices.
Likely it was sushi. My gf and I go to a place that features a sushi dinner for two served on a wooden boat. When we get a boat we usually both skip breakfast and lunch, and barely finish eating all the sushi.
One time we placed our order and my gf started telling me about how hungry she was. Good, right? Nope, she wasn’t feeling hungry, she was feeling ill. Food came and she barely finished her soup. The boat came and she turned green.
She left and headed for home. I stayed and ate as much as I could. Nearly finished it, too.
When I was a heavy drinking frat boy in college I’d make quite a few poor food decisions. When I got drunk I liked to eat, a lot.
On one occasion (of many), we hit up the legendary La Bamba burrito joint on campus along with what seemed to be 75% of the rest of campus. They serve “burritos as big as your head” for those of you not familiar with the place. These “Super” burritos are giants, typically as long and thick as a construction workers forearm. Just above every guy would get one and finish it and feel terrible afterwards. One night I was on a roll and was still hungry after the first one. I ordered a second “Super” and was nearly finished with this before some people had finished their first. At this point my large group of friends found this pretty amusing and dared me to eat a 3rd one. Being a drunk meathead I of course accepted the challenge and started in on a 3rd one. Half way through it I started feeling really miserable but my ego kicked in and I polished it off. In that sitting I probably put 6 pounds of burrito on top of a solid 15 beers. We were on campus last weekend and found that Bamba had apparently closed down, we were very disappointed.
Another time me and my g/f at the time were out drinking with a mixed group of friends. Afterwards we’d returned to the dorm and everyone started retreating to their rooms except the single guys who had found another room to goof around in. I, of course, needed to eat something before heading to bed with my g/f for festivities. In retrospect this is silly because she was scrumptious, and a few my friends at the time pointed out that I was a dumbass, but nonetheless I ordered 2 large Papa Johns pizzas. One for me and one for her. Naturally, she passed out before the pizza arrived. Once I’d eaten my pizza I looked over at the second pie which I’d thoughtfully laid at her side in bed and decided that she wouldn’t mind if I had a few slices. Smash cut to 15 minutes later and I’m passed out along side her with 2 large pizzas in my belly and us surrounded by garlic sauce.
This wasn’t a volume issue, but on another trip to La Bamba I’d been dared to do shots of their hot sauce which was served in a 2 ounce condiment cup. It was pretty hot by burrito joint standards, not quite habenero hot, but enough to make you sweat. This was no big deal since I usually went through two of them with a burrito and had occasionally done shots of them before to get a rise out of people. Things went a bit differently this time. For some reason someone told the story of my hot sauce shooting and I was challenged to prove it. I did, but people kept egging me on. Being pretty drunk at the time I happily obliged. Snap forward to the end of the meal and I’d done a shot of every single hot sauce on our tables, maybe 20 ounces of the stuff. I REALLY regretted that about 2 hours later.