The symbiotic relationship between a man's fingers and a chicken wing is at its best when the sauce covers both, camouflaging a melding of man and bird as one.
As a competitive eater, I do a ton of media -- perhaps you've seen me on TV or heard me on the radio? I hold a few world records, but I am best known for plugging the sponsor's name incessantly.
Juliet could almost make me forget how grotesquely contorted competitive eaters' faces get when they jam 10 hot dogs in their mouths at once, and how, you know, they eat their own puke. Almost.