.png)
Our sponsored segment dives into the treacherous terrain of tummy-tumbling treats, colon-quaking courses, and diarrhea-inducing delicacies. Today: Buffalo Chicken Tots from Buffalo Wild Wings.
Our first corporate sponsor, Imodium, understands the struggle. You work a soulless office job for 40-50 hours a week, punctuated only by the tiny sliver of hope known as the lunch break. Because you're not a monster, you choke down a sad salad most days, dick around on your phone, read an article on a highly-respected website, maybe do a crossword or the Wordle.
But every now and then, your inbox looks like the Unabomber Manifesto, your supervisor is up your ass, and Hillary from the marketing team bricks the staff meeting with overly ambitious campaign suggestions. On those days, a sad salad simply will not do. On those days, you need to treat yourself to a couple thousand calories and a few desperate sprints to the secret one-seater bathroom on the executive floor.
You need a Loose Lunch. And our friends at Imodium have you covered.
Today's suggestion?
Buffalo Chicken Tots from Buffalo Wild Wings
2,110 calories, 144 g fat (51 g saturated fat, 6 g trans fat), 7,360 mg sodium, 147 g carbs (0 g fiber, 3 g sugar), 47 g protein
Yay! It's lunchtime. Pull up a chair and enjoy a plate of tots so generously loaded with toppings that it looks like downtown San Juan on the morning after Hurricane Maria. Don't you dare settle for potatoes alone. These bad boys also include shredded chicken, blue cheese crumbles, Fresno chile peppers, green onions, and a brackish river of ranch and buffalo sauces that gracefully cascade into greasy puddle of regret.
The 6 grams of trans fat alone are enough to make your bowels clench in fear, causing most of the liquid in your body to slosh through your small intestines. Anything left behind will be absorbed by sodium content that more than triples your suggested daily intake. By the end of this lunch you'll be more bloated than the North Korean garbage balloons floated over Seoul and more dehydrated than Kirk after our private tour of the Dad's Hat whiskey distillery.
Starchy potato binder is no match for the bubbling pool of four-day old fryer oil that coats these nuclear nuggets in a Castor-like lubricant capable of emancipating even the deepest and most entrenched digestive residue. One bite in, and you might feel a gurgle, like a distant thunderstorm brewing on a South Florida afternoon. Two bites, and your stomach starts sounding like a live performance of Stomp. By the time you've polished off a plate, you’ll already be in a full-on crisis, beads of sweat forming on your brow at a rate unseen since the time Dom almost decapitated you for that stink bomb prank.
Later, the office toilet looks like the aftermath of a frat house chili cook-off — chaotic, soupy, and unsanitary. And it's worth noting that this item is listed on the lunch menu as an appetizer, which means you've still got your main course of mango habanero wings to devour. Good luck.
I'd like to give a potent, watery thanks to our friends at Imodium for sponsoring this gastrointestinal thrill ride — just remember to have a Family Size bottle of it on hand, because you’re going to need it to stop the floodgates from turning your afternoon into a moist pair of boxer briefs! Thanks a lot, Hillary. Next time send a fucking email.