So I think everyone has heard of the KFC Double Down by now. The first time I saw the ad on TV I thought 2 things.1. Is this a joke?
2. Is that Matt Bushell?
Of course about 2 weeks went by before I finally got around to researching whether or not that is, in fact, Matt in the commercial. Several people emailed and texted me to tell me that they thought it was him and honestly, that just warms my heart. I wish Matt appreciated his awesome fans. Obviously he doesn't since he is neither on Twitter nor a follower of this blog.
*ahem*
So anyway, here's the commercial. Matt's the bald dude with the striped shirt.
What's more disturbing is the whole concept of this "sandwich" and the reasoning behind Matt appearing in this commercial. How does that work? Does his agent call him and say, "Hey Matt. KFC is coming out with this AWESOME new, uh, thing, and I think you would be a great spokesperson for it. Plus your cable bill is due." If that's how it went down, then I think that Matt needs to find a different agent. Thanks to IMDBPro I have the contact info for both Matt's agent and his publicist and I'm thinking of sending them both letters asking if they are specifically setting out to ruin his career.
Anyway, as a special treat for all of you, I have a first hand account of someone who "survived" a DoubleDown. She said she was gonna try it, and I didn't believe it until I saw the picture. Ladies and....ok, just ladies, I present to you HoudinisBox!
As soon as I heard about KFC's new menu item - the Double Down - I knew I had to try it.
"Don't!" My friends, co-workers, and Twitterbugs begged and pleaded. "It's so bad for you! You'll die if you eat one! Please don't do this."
It felt good to know that these people cared so much about me that didn't want to see me die, but I had a mission. And I rarely back down from a mission.
Shrugging off their warnings, I headed to the nearest KFC on April 12th - DDDay.
"One Double Down please. No sauce." I said, handing the 16 year old cashier my ten dollar bill. "And...a biscuit. To go."
I had to get a biscuit, ya know 'cause biscuits are good.
"Coming right up," she responded with a squeaky, yet bored voice.
Ten minutes later(yeah, they're slow), I was out the door, my KFC bag in hand.
I waited until I got home to unwrap what could possibly have been my last meal - bacon and pepperjack cheese sandwiched between two thick, golden fried chicken breasts. The smell alone caused my mouth to water and my stomach to impatiently growl.
I took one bite.
And in that moment, I was touching the hand of God.
And I'm an Agnostic.
It was glorious. It was terrible. It was heaven. It was hell.
It was everything my heart desired, but my stupid brain kept screaming, "HEART ATTACK! HEART ATTACK! HEART ATTACK!"
Shut up, brain.
Pushing all thoughts of dying alone in my apartment aside, I forged ahead.
The chicken was succulent and juicy. The cheese was creamy and spicy. The bacon - well, when is bacon ever anything but salty and delicious?
It tasted just like Peter Facinelli looks - absolutely DELICIOUS.
As I chewed, my heart and brain reached a compromise, and I allowed myself to eat 2/3s of the DD before I sadly tossed the remainder into the garbage.
I had done it. I sat down on my bed to send emails and tweets of my glory.
I had conquered the Beast and won.
Or so I thought.
About an hour later, I felt sick. Not "puke all over the cat" sick - more like, "what have I done?" sick. I curled into a fetal position, overcome with fear and self-loathing and drifted off to a restless sleep.
So, in the end, was it worth it?
Hell yes.
But I will never, ever eat another one as long as I live. I compare the experience to having unprotected sex with a complete stranger - it might be fun at the time, but it's a miracle if you escape with no permanent reminders of your recklessness.
Practice safe eating kids. I ate the Double Down and lived to tell the tale, but you may not be so lucky.
"Don't!" My friends, co-workers, and Twitterbugs begged and pleaded. "It's so bad for you! You'll die if you eat one! Please don't do this."
It felt good to know that these people cared so much about me that didn't want to see me die, but I had a mission. And I rarely back down from a mission.
Shrugging off their warnings, I headed to the nearest KFC on April 12th - DDDay.
"One Double Down please. No sauce." I said, handing the 16 year old cashier my ten dollar bill. "And...a biscuit. To go."
I had to get a biscuit, ya know 'cause biscuits are good.
"Coming right up," she responded with a squeaky, yet bored voice.
Ten minutes later(yeah, they're slow), I was out the door, my KFC bag in hand.
I waited until I got home to unwrap what could possibly have been my last meal - bacon and pepperjack cheese sandwiched between two thick, golden fried chicken breasts. The smell alone caused my mouth to water and my stomach to impatiently growl.
I took one bite.
And in that moment, I was touching the hand of God.
And I'm an Agnostic.
It was glorious. It was terrible. It was heaven. It was hell.
It was everything my heart desired, but my stupid brain kept screaming, "HEART ATTACK! HEART ATTACK! HEART ATTACK!"
Shut up, brain.
Pushing all thoughts of dying alone in my apartment aside, I forged ahead.
The chicken was succulent and juicy. The cheese was creamy and spicy. The bacon - well, when is bacon ever anything but salty and delicious?
It tasted just like Peter Facinelli looks - absolutely DELICIOUS.
As I chewed, my heart and brain reached a compromise, and I allowed myself to eat 2/3s of the DD before I sadly tossed the remainder into the garbage.
I had done it. I sat down on my bed to send emails and tweets of my glory.
I had conquered the Beast and won.
Or so I thought.
About an hour later, I felt sick. Not "puke all over the cat" sick - more like, "what have I done?" sick. I curled into a fetal position, overcome with fear and self-loathing and drifted off to a restless sleep.
So, in the end, was it worth it?
Hell yes.
But I will never, ever eat another one as long as I live. I compare the experience to having unprotected sex with a complete stranger - it might be fun at the time, but it's a miracle if you escape with no permanent reminders of your recklessness.
Practice safe eating kids. I ate the Double Down and lived to tell the tale, but you may not be so lucky.
So there ya have it folks. Think Matt even tried that hot mess? I doubt it. So it's time for him to really step up to the plate. Join Twitter, do a guest post here, and eat a Double Down. In that order. You know how to reach me baby.
