Results tagged “wingbowl”

Thanks to Brendan Skwire for the tip!

If you're a fan of getting drunk at 5:30 in the morning and seeing lots of uncovered (what's the medical term?) boobies, then there is no chance you WON'T want to go to 610 WIP's Wing Bowl on Janurary 30th. Tickets go on sale at 9:00 a.m. Monday and Philly.com has info on all the different ways you can get your drunken perverted hands on them. Assuming for just a moment that the Eagles won't be in the Super Bowl, this may be the most fun event of the weekend. With a chance to see a competitive eater named "The Acidic Jew", there's no way we're not going all-in on this.

Why wait for January when you can watch this video now?

If you weren’t there, you missed “a critical turning point in our culture,” not to mention an early morning buzz and heartburn. The results are in from Wing Bowl 16, and two-time defending champ Joey Chestnut defeated the mighty El Wingador, who came in third. Chestnut downed 241 wings, setting a new Bowl record. El Wingador was the favorite (at least crowd favorite) to win, and the disappointment was made worse by his announcement that he is retiring from competitive eating. It is truly a dark day. Chestnut had previously said that win or lose this would be his last Wing Bowl, but apparently the thrill of victory reminded him why he got into the sport in the first place (or something), and we may be seeing him again.

If you haven’t noticed, the Philadelphia sports climate is pretty bleak these days. The Sixers suck. The Eagles are golfing. The Flyers are irrelevant. And the Phillies are currently nickel-and-diming perhaps the greatest slugger in a generation, hoping that an arbitrator will make him play for a relative pittance. So there is pretty much no reason to go to an arena or stadium near you to watch our local pituitary cases compete in the games of chance. And yet, on February 1, the lowest common denominator of our fine city will flock to the Wachovia Center. They will begin tailgating at 4 a.m. Come 6 a.m., they will enter the building, whereupon they will take their seats and longingly ogle the “Wingettes” in their bras and panties. They will buy $8 Bud Lights from the concession stands, and will be completely wasted before many of us have stepped in the shower. They will stand and cheer at fat losers as they stuff their filthy gobs with artery-clogging Buffalo wings. When the spectacle has concluded and a “winner” is announced, these fine gents, fresh from the most intimate contact they have had with a woman in eons, will file out of the doors and head straight to the nearest strip club to further sate their throbbing libidos. Bear in mind that this will probably be the most intellectual activity that these fellows will have indulged in all week. At the end of the day, they will vomit in the public common and drunkenly drive their vehicles home in a treacherous version of “Commuter Roulette.” Sound like fun? Then, by all means, head over to South Philly for the 610-WIP-sponsored Wing Bowl 16, “The Showdown in the Hot Sauce.” (To tailgate. This flimsy excuse to get wasted actually sold out a major sports arena... AGAIN.)

Wingette Leslie McKenna

Between fake terrorist alerts and scandals big and small, this just might be the Best Best of the -ists ever. We're exhausted just thinking about it.

My elementary school had two janitors: “Day Bob” and “Night Bob.” “Night Bob” was a tiny older man, who we built a throne and held a special assembly for when he retired. “Day Bob” was younger and larger. He wore zebra stripe pants everyday, and they never fully covered his keister. He was always around, but other than the fact that he fished a ring of mine out of the bathroom sink when I was in sixth grade, I didn’t have many memories of him.

Editor's note: It's rare that we step out of our collective voice/pants to let someone steal the spotlight. In our history, we've only done it when (a) the Pope did a guest spot in our 30 Days of Easter series, (b) we put up a "Day as Phillyist Editor" for bid and Singularist won, (c) we just felt like wingin' it. Today, we let Tom Durso, the newest member of our team, don the slim-fit pants before diving into the big waistline that is Phillyist.

The camera moves in slo-mo over the rowdy, cheering crowd at the Wachovia Center. Scantily clad 'cheerleaders' move into view. No, this is not a movie about the Philadelphia Soul arena football team -- it's a flick about Bill "El Wingador" Simmons, the darling of this area's premiere competitive eating competition, the Wing Bowl. And it could be coming to a theatre near you. We know what you're thinking: Finally -- a movie that will show off Philly as a classy city! Crowds flock to the Wing Bowl every February for the frat boy atmosphere, the strippers, and the possibility of someone's stomach exploding. El Wingador is their king. He retired this year from competitive eating, having lost his title briefly last year to Sonya "The Black Widow" Thomas. He goes out on top, possessed of that gritty Philadelphia spirit present only in such local greats as Rocky, Wilt Chamberlain, and now El Wingador. So why not make one of those inspirational sports movies about El Wingador? Simmons tells NJ.com that producer Michael Tollin (think Varsity Blues and ) informed him, "You're Philadelphia's favorite son. It used to be Rocky, but that's not a real story. You're a real story." Be on the lookout for a giant statue of El Wingador to replace the Rocky statue in South Philly any minute.