{"id":48871,"date":"2016-05-29T09:00:38","date_gmt":"2016-05-29T14:00:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.toiletovhell.com\/?p=48871"},"modified":"2016-05-29T05:34:40","modified_gmt":"2016-05-29T10:34:40","slug":"clash-of-the-hybrids-pizza-vs-burgers","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/toiletovhell.com\/clash-of-the-hybrids-pizza-vs-burgers\/","title":{"rendered":"Clash of the Hybrids<\/i>: Pizza vs. Burgers"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Pizza and burgers. The kings of the Western food world. Atop the food pyramid these titans sit, locked in a sort of perpetual truce. Should one of them\u00a0be snubbed in favour of the other on one drunken Friday night, they care not. For they know that the battle runs long. A\u00a0single weekend matters not in the\u00a0struggle eternal. In the past, humankind has naively\u00a0tried to merge the bloodlines. The results, unsuccessful. As with their attempts to fuse other apex predators, the offspring<\/a> proved<\/a> sterile<\/a>, or just<\/a> outright<\/a> comical<\/a>. When will we learn?<\/p>\n

Last night was a big one. You drank things. You know this. Partly because your brain is thumping profusely with every millilitre of poisoned blood being forcibly pumped\u00a0through its complex labyrinth of capillaries. Partly because your tongue is firmly cemented to the roof of your mouth. Or maybe it’s because your wallet is empty…and happens to be sitting on the kebab-stained back seat of a taxi somewhere in the city. Either way, your state of opprobrium is deserved.<\/p>\n

It’s now 3pm on a Saturday. Your abused stomach tentatively gurgles. Surely the punishment will not continue?! It hasn’t heard a rumble from old mate\u00a0liver all morning. He\u00a0was up working all night after all, poor dude. He didn’t ask for this. There’s only one thing that can get all your organs back on your side. In search of\u00a0a peace offering, your mind scrambles. Pizza? Burger? No. You’ve gone too far this time. You really\u00a0need to pull something out of the proverbial hat. “I’m going to make pizza burgers!” you exclaim as the pitiful sack of skin you’re confined within awkwardly rises from the foetal-shaped trench you’ve habitually carved in your lounge. Is this really the best idea to attempt in your current state? You know when your wife, currently deep into the third trimester of pregnancy, says upon your proposal “Ok…but you are<\/em> an idiot”, that you have problems<\/del>\u00a0are on the path to glory.<\/p>\n