Toledo Tales

Guest editorial by Brian Danziger,
food economist

You know, the folks at HomeTown Buffet have been real nice to me, in spite of the fact that I put away at least $140 worth of food for every $12.99 all-you-can-eat ticket I purchase. They never roll their eyes or make snotty-ass comments under their breath when I show up, unlike those jackasses at Golden Corral.

But look: I'm 'bout to thrown down on this here buffet, y'all, and it would be best to stand back when I hit that bee-atch full force.

Now, you understand I'm a smart eater at the buffet. I stay away from the bread and stuffing and mac-and-cheese that weighs you down with inexpensive bulk, and I plow my face into the baked chicken, sliced ham, and fried shrimp. You know, the fine-dining and high-class shit.

And don't get within elbow room of me when they start carving up the Cajun sirloin, 'cause I can scarf that motha faster than they can chop the shit with a machete.

I also have what I like to call my "secret strategy" at HomeTown Buffet, which involves a half-dozen of those quart-sized plastic bags hidden in my coat, my pants, and my toque. Each of those bad boys holds about two plates of shrimp cocktail or fried chicken, and I can usually walk out of that joint with four or five big-ass meals for the next day.

Yeah, I see some of those self-righteous pricks making smart-ass comments, but remember this, dickweeds: I get my money's worth out of this place, and if not for me, the buffet price would probably be about $9.99.

Boo-yah!