Let them eat timbits! and other things I’d say as a benevolent Queen.
Posted by L.A.
Once upon a time, on a blog far away, Poof wrote a story that would be one of those stories. Everyone has those stories — the ones they tell over and over because they’re just that good.
I love to tell the Zamboni tale, or the time that my Dad accidentally left my sister and me at a gas station, or the time that VS parallel parked my car on the curb. Because the point was that the car was all in the space.
These are the stories that are still funny, or if they aren’t, then I either probably hate you or love you, depending if you’re still laughing.
I went onto timehop today, and came to the realization that there was a story that had gone untold. Two years ago today, I would give up doughnuts. Specifically, cake doughnut holes.
In real life, I tell this all the time: whenever the JumboTron gets mentioned or someone offers me a doughnut hole and thinks I’m completely cracked out because who does not like a tiny hole made of doughnut?
This is the story of the Doughnut Queen
Once upon a time, Poof and I made plans to go to a hockey game. We had a group of girls, a ridiculous amount of Sharpie’d posters saying phrases that probably shouldn’t be allowed around children, and a hotel room for the night. We had the capacity for ridiculous things to happen.
In true form, Poof and I began our day overly excited and exposed to social media.
Twitter: where all things good and wonderful happen.
After all, ever since she and I had both ridden the great bright ice cleaner that is the Zamboni, I’d been crazy gung ho to have Zambattle 2012 happen. Who doesn’t want to see two girls strapped to the top of Zambonis with light sabers battling it out?
That question was clearly rhetorical. Because not long after Poof and I had begun our early morning banter, we had received notification from “the social media guy”.
Everyone likes the idea of a Light Saber Zamboni Battle. Except apparently, safety regulations and the like – which meant that on this day, we might not be able to Zambattle, but we would be fighting on a completely different battlefield.
@AyronattheWings offered us in exchange for our light sabers and souls, a Timbit eating contest. It sounded simple enough. Here is a box of doughnut holes.
Thus, we accepted.
It’s the first intermission. Poof and I have spent the first intermission trash talking each other about our eating abilities and downing whalebones. We’d been approached at the beginning of the game, and we knew that at some point during the intermission, someone would come fetch us for our shining moment of infamy.
The exact phrase was they’ll come for you.
Doughnut holes should never sound so ominous.
We’re standing in front of a camera with a woman brandishing a microphone. We’re wearing Tim Horton’s shirts that were given to us, because everyone also loves free advertising. We’re movie star waving to our adoring fans as the woman tells the crowd that we’ll have one minute to eat as many doughnut holes as possible.
Start the clock.
Within the first three seconds, things go bad. Bitches gave us powdered sugar. Poof and I both had the strategy of shove as much into your mouth as possible [insert jokes here] because we only have one minute.
We had one minute. We did not have enzymes.
My mouth is full of powdered sugar and cinnamon and doughnut and I have no saliva left.
It’s like the Sahara Desert in here, and I. Cannot. Swallow. [insert more jokes here].
I glance at Poof. She’s looking at me. There are tears in my eyes and I don’t know if they’re from laughing or crying. The woman with the microphone is still counting down and I’m debating if it’s acceptable to drink alcohol on the JumboTron because my whalebone is RIGHT next to me and liquid would be perfection right about now.
Poof eats another doughnut hole. I debate which I hate more – losing or doughnuts, and losing wins. The next doughnut hole was a terrible idea.
Poof and I make eye contact again and a combination of laughter, doughnuts, booze, and peer pressure overload my senses. I hold the box up to my face — more free advertising for Tim Horton’s — and pray to the hockey gods.
For the love of all things holy, please don’t let me throw up on the big screen at a Red Wings game.
And then, in the best display of multi-tasking I’ve ever done, I managed to swallow [jokes], not choke, dodge a doughnut hole thrown at me by Poof, and not throw up on the Joe Louis Arena version of national TV.
They count the remaining doughnut holes. I have two. Poof have four.
I’m simultaneously thrilled and nauseous. I’m both proud of myself and mentally swearing that I’ll never eat another doughnut again. The arena is cheering at the spectacle of it all and I scream out,
“I AM YOUR DOUGHNUT QUEEN.”
As I celebrate, the woman gives me my prize.
It’s a gift card.
About L.A.Mom Life/Engaged Life/Blog Life/Love Life
Posted on February 25, 2014, in Merriments, PSA, The Good Ol' Hockey Game and tagged Detroit Red Wings, Doughnuts, eating contest, Hockey, Light Sabers, Social Media, Tim hortons, Timbits, TimeHop, Twitter, Zambattle. Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.