I like food.  Maybe that's the best way to preface this entry.

About four months ago, Deanna and I went to Cheeburger, Cheeburger, a new eatery here in Princeton.  For those of you who've never had the privilege/horror of eating at said establishment, Cheeburger, Cheeburger resembles a Sake n Shake and serves basically the same menu.

So we're sitting in our little booth checking out the menu we I notice the Cheeburger, Cheeburger challenge.  "The Pounder".  Actually, it's 20 ounces, not 16.  But it wouldn't matter if it was 40 ounces, it was an eating challenge and I'm all about eating challenges.  The reward wasn't truely great, either.  A picture of the eater and a giant foam burger would be hung on the wall of fame for all to see.  Sign.  Me.  Up.

So I'm eating the burger and doing pretty well.  You know, making a mess, cheese and bun sliding off one side, ketchup spilling all over the plate, rings of onions and lettuce mangled from my greasy fingers.  But I chocked down all 20 ounces, finish off my order of onion rings and drank my lemonade.  A few minutes later the waiter notices I've made a pig of myself and brings over the giant foam burger and camera to fulfill his end of the obligation.  I couldn't have been happier.

Then he calls for the attention of everyone in the restaurant to look at me and my bloated self.  I wasn't counting on public humiliation while still in the diner.  That wasn't in the agreement.  That stipulation doesn't appear on the menu, and believe me, I looked.  I'm fine with my picture being my legacy, but not so cool with the immediate attention.  All I could do was sheepishly grin and try to hide behind the foam tomato and lettuce.

BUT, my mug shot can now be found on the wall at Cheeburger, Cheeburger of Princeton.