following a note about how some people love to torture all in the quiet study lounge with foods that smell so strongly that stomachs either rumble in hunger or turn in disgust. i’m talking hobo power* of at least 5.
me: im one of those people!
me: i just brought curry chicken into the quiet study lounge, specifically to ruin the study agenda of all those around me
SY: Curry?? That’s like the chemical warfare of culinary faux pas. I would expect that from Saddam Hussein (go Baghdad U!) but not you! You just notched all the grade curves for this midterm season back at least five percent.
SY: Are you striking the study lounge again? Smells like someone is eating an armpit in here.
me: Hahah not me! This time. This morning though I had a disturbingly malodorous egg and cheese croissant from Kovler. It must have been the chemical ‘cheese’.
SY: I was always curious as to who buys that stuff… I mean I enjoy Aramark and Kraft’s idea of eggs, cheese, and croissants as much as the next person, I just have a hard time getting over the pang of guilt and shame when I do so much as to look at it. Breakfast of champions!
mmm… it sure was a breakfast of champions. it lasted me all the way through my 5pm senior citizen dinner time, so early that i caught The Special, aka pizza left sitting out since lunch. however, look closely below.
yes. i eat pizza with a fork and unpictured knife. pizza is messy, okay?
black beans, corn, grilled chicken, salsa, “cheese” –> nachos pizza = dinner of champions. QED.
kovler better patent this quickly before taco bell gets a hold of this.
and separately, do you really know the difference between a chalupa and a gordita? are those even spanish words, or is that from taco bell corporate? i probably asked the first time i went to taco bell, probably even googled it more than once, but now that i’ve learned that every menu item is in fact merely a permutation of the same rotating cast of processed protein + processed dairy + iceberg lettuce held together / shaped by a different type of white carb, i can’t be fooled into asking again.
now whenever i’m thrill-seeking, riding by the seat of my pants by not ordering a taco / burrito, i just order what i had last time that was just fine and so i’ve inadvertantly become a lifer for the chalupa over the gordita. i can’t get myself to switch even though switching costs are precisely zero. instead i worry about stuff like “what if the gordita shell is too floppy? what if the shell is a wrap? what if the wrap absorbs the dampness of the iceberg lettuce more than a shell?”
… doesn’t really matter anyway, since i know something is coming for dessert that makes up for any potential ordering snafu …
why ... hello.
* hobo power: i thought this phrase was initially defined by adam carolla, but googling, i can find no evidence. however, this person
sums it up nicely:
Over the years I’ve developed an intense scientific scale for grading the “funk” I’ll call it, of a particular stink. I have dubbed this scale the “Hobo Factor.” The hobo factor is based on the stink of the average unwashed homeless person in Washington, D.C. Why Washington you may ask? Doesn’t matter.
A smell of one hobo describes a funk equivalent to the smell of one hobo. Easy enough. Feel free to extrapolate from there, however, we have found that the scale seems to end at about ten. 3 hobo is roughly where the retch response takes over. Five is roughly equivalent to the smell of being locked in a hermetically sealed cabinet with a hobo of open air 1 hobo, or walking past 5 hobos. A stench of 10 hobo is too hideous to convey and should be avoided at all cost should the smeller attempt to remove their sinuses with a chainsaw (which at this point would have already been puked all over and the operator left with dry heaves). The chainsaw operator seldom manages to take out their sinuses, but the muscle spasms lead to terrible injury nontheless.
The interger scale of hobo factor is intended for intense bodily stenches and alleyway funk. However, for your average home stanks, feel free to employ the fractional hobo scale. The average pit stank of the occasionally washed friend seldom exceeds .5 hobo. Old refrigerator funk has been known to get toward .9 hobo (in one extreme case involving dead mice made it to 1.2!), but I think we can agree that the overall interger scale is too large for the home application.
The “Hobo Scale” is not intended to define smells.