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Funniest Blog I’ve read, so I had to copy and post

This is copied verbatim from this site: http://www.yelp.com/biz/prince-of-wales-pub-san-mateo

I hope there are no copyright infringements, but just HAD to share. This is a review of the (now closed) Prince of Wales Pub located in San Mateo, CA written by Omid T.. They had the world famous Habanero Burger, and if you ate it all, you’d get a bumpersticker to show off for it. Enjoy:

I wish I never signed that release form.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to the PoW, but this story bears telling.  So grab yourself a drink – it’s a long one.

see, a Scottish buddy of mine had a penchant for hot foods. Probably
the only Scotsman in existence who likes super spicy stuff, although I
could be wrong. One of the hottest peppers in the world is called the
Scotch bonnet, after all.  But I digress.

So Scotty tells me and
my crew about the Guinness record holding hottest hamburger in the
world, served up at the PoW. "Ye sign this release form, then ye eat
this ha-ba-nye-rrro berrrrgar, and when ye finish it, they give ye a
sticker. Ye might get yer picture on the wooooll, too!"  Fueled by
testosterone and numerous beers, we couldn’t resist a challenge.

rocked up to the bar and placed our orders, signed our release forms,
and waited for our hell on buns.  Scotty didn’t order one.  "Hey, man,
no habanero burger for you?"  "Once is enough, my man, once is enough."

A pint or two later, our burgers arrived. There’s habanero in
the meat. There’s minced habanero on the bottom of the patty. There’s
minced habanero on top of the patty.  "This can’t be that bad, right?"

rrrrrules!" Scotty said with an evil grin. "Ye kin use whatever
condiments you want, and ye kin drink all the beer ye want, but nothing
else."  Fair enough…

We all lifted our burgers, toasted each
other, and took a bite… "Hey, this isn’t that – MOTHER OF GOD!!!"  If
I were a masochist, I’d have been so turned on. But other than a light
spanking, I’m not. So I was in hell. The exclamations from our table
had the pub regulars in stitches.  "Who the hell eats this!?" one of my
friends wailed through a wall of tears.  "Dude, I can’t feel my tongue
anymore!" another pal exclaimed.  "I can do this, man, I can do this,"
I tried convincing everyone, even though my eyes revealed I was lying
through my capsacin-coated teeth.  The most fun to watch and
commiserate with was James, who went in stoically, and then simply went
silent throughout the experience, wearing only a grimace throughout the
whole ordeal.

We got to the halfway mark and I had the ingenious
idea to ask the bartender for some ranch sauce. I covered my patty in
ranch and continued to eat. There was ranch dripping everywhere – on
the table, on my shirt, on my chin –  and it was still barely cutting
the habanero. If anything, all it did was make me look like a money
shot. A really miserable, pained money shot.  

This made one of
my friends laugh. In fact, he laughed so hard he choked on a little bit
of his burger, lodging a habanero-infused hunk of beef in his windpipe.
 His entire face turned beet red as he was making strange hacking
sounds and ran to the bathroom. Luckily, he coughed out the piece, and
through tears he told us that his inner throat is burning.  "Give me a
cup of that ranch sauce."  Like a trooper, he downed a mouthful of
ranch, washed it down with beer, and continued on with the official
sandwich of the Marquis de Sade.

We eventually finished and put
our macho faces back on… "It wasn’t that bad.  Right, James?"  James
remained silent, but his grimace had turned into a slight smile of

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst of it. Hell
awaited all of us for the next two days each time we went to the
bathroom. It was so bad, the only thing we could do to distract
ourselves from the pain was to violate a cardinal rule of guy-dom. We’d
call one another from the throne, hoping to get moral support as we
toiled.  "Dude, it’s so much worse on the way out!"

Since then,
my digestive tract has never been the same. I used to be an aficionado
of all things hot and spicy. Now my stomach reacts violently and my
sphincter recoils in horror if I have anything more than moderately
spicy.  So as I pass by the PoW every day on the train, I look in its
general direction and think, "Screw you, Prince Charles. Or whoever the
hell you’re named after."

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Unlucky Day

Where to start. 74\
Hmmm. Well. Apparently S’Arge wanted to add something. Anyway. This morning was a late one, getting up around 08:30. We were going to go to an estate sale less than three miles away from home. Now. I am not directionally challenged, neither do I have problems reading directions to a driver. On the OTHER hand, Tish is, how can I put it politely, not quite as talented in that department. We left at about 09:20 with me driving, and I should have realized then that it was going to be an adventure. Blessedly, I only had to turn around twice after going the wrong way. By that time, I had the directions IN MY HAND and was guiding myself. We finally made it to the street the sale was on. It was a one lane private road, and I think I walked in poison oak (narrowly avoiding it) on the hillside to get out of the car. We arrived at 09:40, yes that is correct, it took twenty minutes to get there. They didn’t open the doors for another twenty minutes.
We had a game plan. We were there for dinnerware. They had advertised Denby, Mikasa and Noritake, and we were going to see if we could get ONE of those sets. Well, once the doors opened, were practically RAN to the kitchen. The Noritake was on the table, and very delicate. But the Denby… now that you would have loved. It is Denby Harlequin and is no longer made. 54 pieces total, and we  paid $125.00+tx. Average per piece to buy is probably $25, so we got about $1350 worth of stoneware. SCOOOOOORE!!!!!!
Next, how to get it out of there. We hadn’t thought of bringing boxes or storage to bring it home. Tish went back to the car to drop off a couple of pieces. There were two women near the car, complaining that all the cars parked there was illegal and they were egging each other on, getting more and more angry. Tish told them that this was going to continue tomorrow as well. Well THAT sent them over the edge… They then started discussing towing cars away. When Tish came back, and told me, I thought, I gotta move that car. There was a great bit of parking in front of the house and thought, I’m bringing the car here! I headed out to the car, and one woman was standing there next to it. I was thinking, oh don’t you start on me… Well sure enough, she started. She said it was illegal to park there and we shouldn’t park there. I told her, I didn’t know and I’m moving the car. That didn’t stop her. She kept on talking at me. I told her AGAIN, I didn’t know and that I was moving the car!
I got into the car and headed over to the driveway, only to see a huge Explorer backing in to the driveway. I though, oh no. Please drive away, please drive away…. Well, he didn’t. Not only didn’t he, but he took up a HUGE amount of space. No way could I park there, and there was a LOT of stoneware to carry. Now my options were limited. Do I back up and park where I had just left, 50 feet away, or do I do the honorable thing and park a couple hundred yards away and travel all that way, back and forth with all this heavy stuff? Of course I did the honorable thing, cussing all the way to park quite a distance. All this time, Tish was standing over the stoneware, hissing at people to keep them away, as they kept eyeballing our newly found treasure. I ran back toward the house and make it to the driveway. ‘Lo and behold, I saw the wretched man with the Explorer getting back IN to the car!!! I ran back, blood thundering in my ears, chest heaving all the way back to the car, blessing the parents, grandparents and great-grandparents that begat him. I got to the car, did a u-turn that didn’t make it, finally making it around, HOPING nobody came through and took that all important spot!!
I made it to the private driveway and saw the cars leaving. And then the woman showed up, the same woman that was telling me off when I got back into the car. The woman had planted herself in the middle of the road and was not letting people through. I rolled my window down, and she starts telling me I can’t go in there. I KNEW she recognized me. By that time, I had had enOUGH of that crap. I told her in the sternest voice I could muster, "I KNOW that ma’am. I am just driving to PARK IN THEIR DRIVEWAY!" She had no words, and I took off. Fortunately, the spot was still open. After quite a few trips, we got the car loaded and on our way! After one wrong turn going back, we made it home. I went upstairs for the cart with wheels to try to bring it all up in one trip.
I opened the door and the boy, the darling little sweet boy ran out and took off. I ran after him, the whole building shaking, me hollering at him to stop and did he?? NooooOOOoooo. He ran all the way down the three flights and directly to the opening under the fence. I knew that I couldn’t let him make it to the hole. If he had, I’d have had to crawl after him. I grabbed him at the last moment and scolded him all the way back up the stairs, gasping for breath yet again. I got to the top of the stairs and there the little girl iwas, rubbing all over the walkway in front of the apartment. I hadn’t had time to close the door after me after the mad dash and she certainly took advantage of it! I picked her up and dumped them both in the bathroom to await our return. I grabbed the cart and headed over to the elevator. Opening the door, I kind of slid in, as the floor was a bit more slippery than normal. I hit the button to go to the first floor and the door closed. I took the sunglasses off and looked down. It turned out that the vomit I had seen last night just so happened to be the tail end of a long trail that apparently started IN the elevator!
Now, I have never claimed to have a strong stomach. If you throw up, I am right there with you! Side by side, we will vomit together! This elevator, it is not the best elevator in the world. It has this delay thing it loves to do. It will arrive at the floor you want to be on, and the door will stay shut for an extra 5-6 seconds. It KNOWS the art of antici—————————pation. I started gagging. I gagged from the third floor, through the second floor, eyes watering, fingers pinching my nose shut, hand covering my mouth. I tried not to breathe. The elevator was taking too long. I was still out of breath from chasing the boy. My outlook was not great. Finally, as the doors were waiting to open, I had to take a breath. The doors finally opened and I stormed out, holding back my coffee from the morning. Tish is at the bottom near the parking lot, looking at me. She asked, what happened? What’s going on? I continued to gag and slowly explained to her.
We got the stoneware all packed up into the cart. I told Tish that we could put the cart into the elevator, walk up to the third floor, call the elevator up to the third floor and pull the cart back out, thus avoiding the toxic odor of gastric juices, pasta and alcohol. That is exactly what we did. Once we got up to the third floor, there was a man standing by the elevator. I was about to walk right by, completely forgetting all about the stoneware waiting for us. Fortunately, Tish was with me. Now she remembered. We got the stuff out, all the while complaining with the guy about the nastiness of humans.
Once inside the apartment, I loaded all the stoneware I could into the washer. As Tish prepped the lunch we were going to have, I decided to do one more thing. One more thing to feel productive. In all this stoneware were a salt and pepper shaker. They had not been emptied, so I decided to empty them in order to wash them. Well. The stoppers on the bottom were just a tad stubborn. I got a bit forceful. The salt got anxious. The combination of the two results in salt all over the floor and carpet. Once I got the salt all cleaned up, I SAT MY ASS BACK DOWN AND AM NOW REFUSING TO MOVE FOR THE REST OF THE GODDAMN DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The end
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