Here at Kitchenette, we love comically bizarre foods, and nowhere will you find more misplaced creativity than in the Fast Food industry. Jezebel Night Editor Rebecca Rose joins us to talk about some of the weirdest, grossest, and most laughable fast food items we could find, both nationally and from around the globe.
Rebecca: Hey!!! Is this thing where we're going to talk about the Vodka convention?
C.A.: No. There is no such thing. Pretty sure you made that up.
Rebecca: What? Awww — but, wait. Who did I give all that money to for VIP passes to the convention floor, then?
C.A.: *sigh* We're here to talk about all the gloriously bizarre fast food menu options that corporate America has gifted us with. Remember?
Rebecca: Oh. Well. Are we at least going to have some Vodka?
C.A.: It's 9:30 in the goddamn morning.
Rebecca: Yeah. It's 9:30 AM — in this dimension.
C.A.: Let's just get on with this, before I lose my mind.
Rebecca: You know how some places are like "hmm should we put sausage or ham or bacon on this breakfast biscuit, hmmm…." well Hardee's is all FUCK IT, LET'S PUT ALL OF THEM ON IT. AND HERE'S SOME CHEESE AND EGGS AND SHIT TOO. I bet if we asked nicely, they throw a deep-fried turkey on that thing.
C.A.: I'd be interested to see if they could manage a turducken. What's the over/under for heart attack lawsuits aimed at Hardee's specifically listing these in the case notes? Gotta be at least 5, right?
Rebecca: There is no end to what meats Hardee's will put on a buttered biscuit. I heard Richard Branson had them make him a Unicorn Werewolf Turkey Bacon Egg Beaters one. Egg Beaters because he watches his cholesterol, I guess.
C.A.: It goes without saying that he asked for it gluten-free.
Rebecca: For those who can't tell, those are literally Kit Kat bars just smothered in pizza dough. I think if you eat these things, you have to officially change your name to "Uglyface McFartqueefs" so people know up front the kind of a person they're going to be dealing with.
C.A.: "Uglyface McFartqueefs"; is that a French name?
Rebecca: Actually, it's a family name—it goes back generations. The Earl of Queefs, Sir Edmund de Sharts, was my great-great-great-great grandfather.
C.A.: Yes, you certainly come from a prestigious family line. Your grandfather would be proud of me, then, because this shit just caused me to google "does Pizza Hut deliver from the Middle East?" Not even fucking kidding.
Rebecca: Now you're probably on some FBI list. Not a terrorist list. Just a list they keep of assholes who like crappy food. They print it out and laugh at it at meetings sometimes.
C.A.: If I wasn't already on that list after Kitchenette's first month, the FBI has been seriously slacking.
Rebecca: I've actually had this. I don't remember ordering it or how it tasted. But apparently that same night I left nine messages on the official Domino's Pizza Facebook page telling them how much I loved it and asking if they knew how how to make it come to life and sire my children. So I guess it was OK.
C.A.: I...may have had a similar experience with it. Only mine involved the window of the nearest Domino's, a distinct lack of pants, and a public indecency charge.
Rebecca: Hang on a sec; I'm trying to place an order for this right now.
Rebecca: This is the only logical reaction to this item. Is it a burger that I'm supposed to eat or is it trying to lick me?
C.A.: Can't it be both? I'm tempted to just say "oh, Japan," but this is creatively weird even for them.
Rebecca: Japan? I thought this burger was made on Mars. Or one of the realms in an alternate dimensions of space and time where high tech cyber Vikings rule over lesser worlds.
C.A.: You're talking about the movie Thor, you know.
Rebecca: Yeah, my entire knowledge of physics and astronomy comes exclusively from Tom Hiddleston movies.
C.A.: Well, I'm not sure what I expected.
Rebecca: How did that meeting go? Honestly. Who's the guy in the executive boardroom that doubted the Pizza Hut visionary who came up with this? On what floor of their corporate offices do you think he's cleaning toilets in now? Wait, does Pizza Hut have corporate offices? Or do you think they just operate out of the back of the CEO's mom's ex-boyfriend's van?
C.A.: I just can't stop fixating on the fact that it looks like something out of a nature special about the Mariana Trench. Like, can't you just picture one of these devouring an Anglerfish whole? Because I'm pretty sure I'll be seeing that in my nightmares.
Rebecca: "Hey, we're Pizza Hut. How are we going to cater to the kinds of drunks who order our pizza, but are lured away by their discerning palettes which yearn for a cheeseburger from Jack-in-the-Box?I KNOW! We'll smash a bunch of meat juice and cheese into the crust."
C.A.: To be fair, "just smash together some meat juice and cheese" is the core business model of like 90% of fast food cuisine.
Rebecca: First of all, pouring a bunch of crappy barbecue sauce on something does not make it "Western." This is culinary bullshit. That needs to die in a fire, food industry. Also, America—stop putting the shit that's supposed to be your side item into your burger. Onion rings? French fries? You're like my crazy Aunt Joan who used to put her spaghetti on her salad (so the lettuce wouldn't feel "lonely").
C.A.: Never come to Pittsburgh. Their concept of haute cuisine here is basically "yinz just throw some french fries or pierogis on yer heeeooooeeeeeegee." They seriously can't help themselves. The first step is admitting you have a problem, yinzers.
Rebecca: There is a dollar-off coupon for this thing on the Carl's Jr. website, if anyone wants to try it. Kitchenette will not reimburse you for any medical expenses incurred if you do so, nor will we compensate you for the lifetime of sorrow you will likely have to contend with after sampling it.
Rebecca: I'm not lying. I would kill every single cherished loved one I have if it meant I could live alone on a deserted island with an unlimited supply of Taco Bell's steak nachos. We would live like two teenage lovers, embracing each other under the slow, warming light of each sunrise and spend our days dancing in the surf.
C.A.: Is "dancing in the surf" code for "incurable diarrhea?" Because I'm pretty sure that's all you're going to get from something called "XXL Steak Nachos."
Rebecca: Shut up. You do not understand true love.
C.A.: Yes I do, I've seen your life-size cutout of Daniel Craig.
Rebecca: I'm not allowed to bring that to Outback Steakhouse anymore; did I tell you about what happened?
C.A.: No, and I don't want you to.
Rebecca: If you can finish this thing, they should give you your own small country to be king of. Because that's how BOSS it is.
C.A.: Sweet! I am now officially in charge of like six small countries. DANCE FOR MY AMUSEMENT, MOLDOVA.
Three days later, this was the text she received (not kidding, this actually happened):
C.A.: I'm about to eat a Baconator. YOU'RE MINE, LICHTENSTEIN.
Five minutes after that:
C.A.: HALP I AM DROWNING IN A SEA OF BACON.
Rebecca: What type of deadly human disease were they aiming for with this one? Diabetes? Heart disease? Rotting Gut Syndrome? Because it's obvious someone created this solely for the purposes of slowly killing people. Did a serial killer create this? I am asking seriously.
C.A.: Stop trying to tempt me into making a "John Wayne Icey" joke, Rebecca.
Rebecca: I guarantee you that will be a whole marketing campaign when some fast food PR weirdo sees this post.
C.A.: "Popeye's presents: Jack the Rippin' Chicken!"
Rebecca: "Try Taco Bell's new Extreme Fireball Ted Bundurritos! Can you handle the extremeness?!"
C.A.: "New from McDonald's: The David Burgerwitz! Comes with a side of hush puppies."
Tune in next time, when we review Pizza Hut's Squidza (a pizza with a live and extremely ornery squid located in the middle of it), Burger King's Western Beef Burger (which will contain nothing either "western" OR "beef"), and Roy Rogers's Holy Fuck That's a Shitload of Bacon Sandwich.