Goin’ Nuts for Donuts! (or Doughnuts)

Since I have ended my time in ministry with InterVarsity at UCLA, my life has suddenly opened up a significant amount of free time. It was almost frightening.

So what did I do with myself? Nearly killed myself from stuffing my face with fried pastries last month.

Hungry for donuts!

Living in West LA has its perks, including hip things for people in this large city to find a cause to gather for. One such thing is the annual (since last year) Donut Summit held at Griffith Park and hosted by some fine people of LA and its blogging community. It’s a good size group of people, about 60-70, who congregate at some picnic tables and share their love for donuts. Here are the details of the event.

I was ecstatic to participate, as my best friend Melanie made sure I attended this year because she and some other friends had a blast the year prior. I brought my share of a dozen donuts, and I knew there was only one place I wanted to bring it from–Stan’s Donuts in Westwood. Within walking distance and rather pricey, I wanted to spoil my fellow donut connoisseurs with some of my personal favorites–the Blueberry Crisp, the Huell (peanut butter donuts), the PB&J, and the Bulls-eye (custard-filled chocolate donut).

Gluttony, 'tis a sin.

As the voting went on and I was on the verge of purging from sweetly fried consumption, the ballots were finally in and the winners announced. And guess what? Yours truly won the celebrity judge category! Actual donut shop owners and bakers from the West LA area voted Stan’s The Huell as their absolute favorite–a chocolate-covered donut filled with smooth peanut butter topped by bittersweet chocolate chips. Now how could they resist?! As I ran up to grab my lovely donut medal, some rather unexpected drama ensued–some dude wanted to take MY medal.

Ballots in please!

So here’s the sitch: My fellow donut lover brought Stan’s Donuts as well. Okay, I’ll give you that, bro. But did you bring the winning donut? No. You did not. Therefore you did not win. You see, it’s like claiming you won best in show for your pet because you got your cat at the same pet shop when the winner was clearly a dog. I really dislike most animals and so using this type of analogy shows my desire to prove my point. And I think this was kind of a stretch. But all to say–YOU DIDN’T BRING THE FRICKIN’ WINNING DONUT MAN. So sit down and give me the homemade plastic donut medal, you big turd.

As passionately angry as I sound, I fell into pure passivity and I let this guy have it. He heard Stan’s had won, and he took the medal. I stood there in disappointment and reflected on how I spent way more money than this fool’s plain glazed twists and chocolate bars. My friends Melanie and Jonathan weren’t having it and they soon discussed their plan to take the medal and destroy the illusion that this poor sap had won. I knew I needed to calm them down and eventually suggested to just forget it. But as we discussed this more, we realized we were people of justice, and wanted our share of the winnings. We were not going home empty-handed.

Winners to stage! I got my glory in the end. I'm so obnoxious. (Melanie to my left, and Mister Medal Stealer to my right)

And so my brave comrade went up to the judges, and politely explained the situation. While she was explaining, the judges were amazingly kind and said it was not a problem, and that there were extra medals. I grabbed the medal in glory, laughing at how childish we must have sounded to them. “My friend Amy brought the peanut butter donuts but then she didn’t get the medal and I think it’s not fair because she actually won and…” It was like explaining to Mrs. Wilson how Peter took my pudding. And it was the awesome homemade kind, not the Snack Pack crap. Thank God Mel has the balls.

Poetry through the megaphone. Our awesome hosts and judges.

To top it off, there was a haiku/limerick poetry contest surrounding, of course, the theme of donuts. I quickly scribbled down my haiku on paper and turned it into the judges. The judges read them aloud through a megaphone and many were entertaining. I got a good reaction from the crowd, and one of the judges exclaimed, “Damn, that’s sexy!” To my surprise, they narrowed it down to three, and both mine and my friend Jonathan’s made it! To determine the winner, they went the route of cheering noise level from the crowd. I was sure I had it in the bag–but the judges chose the limerick instead. Again, I felt robbed of my achievement. And to make this more legit, four people actually went up to me and told me I should have won and that I had a funny and clever haiku. Affirmation at its finest. I considered being a poet for those short five minutes of fame.

I IZ HAPPEH WIF MAI MEDAL

It was a fun time all-in-all, and one day I’ll be sure to tell Stan that his donuts remain the best I’ve had, and that he kicked ass at the summit. He truly deserves the medal, not me, but I willingly admit I am selfish and rather like that shiny, bagel-looking triumph hanging in my room. How strange and sad it is to find self-esteem in a donut contest.

And of course, here is my nearly-winning haiku:

I am a donut
A void to fill inside me
Be my donut hole?

Okay, so my friends got plenty of love in the end from one of the hosts of the event, including for my haiku. Hehe click here.

Right where it belongs.

This is Amy Hu signing off for September 24, 2011.

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