Shocking as it may be, we do not make a habit of frequenting biker bars.
Now, calling Kuma's Corner in Chicago a "biker bar" might be a bit of a stretch, but we have no better name for a place which features a smattering of motorcycles out front, a seemingly strict "employees must be covered in tattoos" rule, and cartooned nudity masquerading as "art" on the walls.
In essence, this is not really our kind of place.
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"Red and white," she answers.
Asking for elaboration on what exactly the "white" or "red" varieties taste like (enlightening as her initial description is...), we receive little more than a grunt.
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|I Don't Wanna Work, I Just Wanna Chew on Some Meat All Day|
"The only thing I ever really crave is a hamburger," she admits. "Well, and anything with sugar on it." Which, when you think about it, does not narrow down the variety much at all.
In contrast, Vodka's craving is much more specific. "I crave pasta. And I pretty much eat it daily, so it works out."
With food cravings like this, it is astounding that we have not yet been targeted by Jenny Craig.
|Though the Same Can Be Said for Anyone Capable of Finishing This Thing|
In practice, we essentially hate it.
|Well, Except for the Ketchup|
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As we finish our second bite, our decision is fairly clear.
|Ding Ding Ding, We Don't Have a Winner!|
|We'll Just Take a Bowl of These Strips and Some Guacamole, Thanks in Advance|
|Funky Looking Meat, Much?|
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"I am truly breathing fire," Ginger admits.
"Eat the mediocre fries," Vodka suggests. "They help take away the sting."
"No. I have enough reflux from this thing as it is," Ginger states. Indeed, by the third bites of our burgers, our lips sting, our breath reeks, and our hands are smothered in plague.
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Kuma's Corner Plague Bringer Burger: 1 star