My sister ate a meal of nothing put pepperoni slices and cheese, and then threw it all up on the floor.

6/3/2014 10:42:11 AM

http://www.ihos.com/steakhouse.html

Quote :

"Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs on this group and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth. Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment. We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however. I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress... I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit. I went to the normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions. I began "The Move." For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer. I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can. In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted."

6/3/2014 10:47:16 AM

People watching, specifically the ones that are obviously in for the long haul of doing two meals while paying for only one.

6/3/2014 10:47:42 AM

continued

Quote :

"At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down. Recall that when that event occurred, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, like what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon. Now, back to the vomit... While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles. In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet. In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no fucking toilet paper. What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign. About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left. The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way. When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door. The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten. Steve Crisp crisp@ihos.com"

6/3/2014 10:47:50 AM

Golden Corral on 70 where Ragazzi's is now.

Then it moved next door.

Now it's on top of all those bodies of dad homeless people left when they bulldozed Brendle's Woods to make Renaissance Park.

6/4/2014 11:50:11 AM

Golden Corral in Knightdale has good steaks

6/11/2014 8:42:38 AM

Quote :

" dad homeless people "

Happy Father's Day!

6/11/2014 9:49:07 AM

6/11/2014 8:04:46 PM

6/16/2014 8:19:32 AM

Golden Corral Pizza Party, with steak

Bring your own vomit bucket

7/30/2014 10:10:03 AM

They have really cheap lunch deal over the summer, like $6?

7/30/2014 10:26:24 AM

When I've gone I can manage to find one or two things that don't suck. Usually fried chicken and okra.

7/30/2014 12:25:56 PM

bourbon street chicken is the shit

7/30/2014 12:28:29 PM

McCall's in clayton > golden coral

7/30/2014 6:46:57 PM

ryan's> golden corral

7/30/2014 8:23:51 PM

I remember filling up napkins with gummy bears, m&m's, etc and stuffing them in my pocket for a to-go snack as a kid. Good times.

7/31/2014 11:58:03 AM

dipping my salad in the chocolate wonderfall

7/31/2014 12:07:54 PM

golden corral > *

8/1/2014 11:19:57 AM

What's gonna happen to the old GC on 70 in Garner?

9/9/2014 3:27:52 PM

sold the location and relocated to Tryon. I believe that place is going to be the new location for Locked & Loaded

9/9/2014 5:12:31 PM

according to tax records, Sushi Nine on Western used to be a GC

#themoreyouknow

9/10/2014 1:05:03 AM

SLAM A SHOE LEATHER STEAK IN DAT WONDERFALL

9/29/2015 10:10:14 AM

We always stopped there on soccer tournament trips. My hazy memory recalls eating a ton of bourbon chicken, teriyaki chicken, and yeast rolls. Those yeast rolls were the shit. And of course, ice cream at the end. As a kid...Golden Corrals were pretty fucking solid.

9/29/2015 10:23:10 AM

I prefer Ryan's.

9/29/2015 10:35:34 AM

^agreed

9/29/2015 11:02:12 AM

Quincy's >>>

9/29/2015 11:06:39 AM

check out the one on Capital. Has a Panini station and a smokehouse in the restaurant. srsly guise.

9/29/2015 4:07:59 PM

i quit going to golden corral and lost 50lbs

9/29/2015 7:06:36 PM

My oldest son just turned 11. His appetite is growing quite quickly. A buffet would be more affordable than a typical restaurant, but with the exception of Cicis or Chinese places, there doesn't seem to be any buffets left in the area. At least not near Apex. I'm not driving all the way to Capital blvd for Golden Corral

9/29/2015 10:51:03 PM

They closed the one in Cary?

9/29/2015 11:22:26 PM

the one in cary was still there like 2 months ago, the one in garner is brand new and not going anywhere, and the one in fuquay probably isn't going anywhere. i can only assume there's one in holly springs

9/30/2015 8:22:56 AM

Cary one is closed. Closest ones are Capital, Glenwood, Garner/Raleigh (off Tryon), Garner/ Clayton (Son-Lan Pkwy.), and Fuquay

9/30/2015 9:12:20 AM

cary one has been closed for a while, and was gross

9/30/2015 9:28:40 AM

Also one along Hwy 55 in Durham

10/1/2015 2:21:12 PM

launched new https://www.goldencorral.com website today!

[Edited on December 19, 2017 at 11:22 AM. Reason : you heard it here first]

12/19/2017 11:21:19 AM

Do you work for the GC or something?

12/19/2017 11:36:56 AM

their headquarters are here so pretty good chance to be yes

12/19/2017 11:38:58 AM

Then I have a question...why y'all gotta be shuttin down stores everywhere? You took my Fuquay store!!!

12/19/2017 11:47:32 AM

Ain't no way I'm going to GC during flu season.

12/19/2017 12:16:35 PM

5^

I don't think the website is GC's biggest problem...

12/19/2017 12:46:13 PM

they closed the one in fuquay

12/19/2017 1:05:12 PM

Quote :

"Ain't no way I'm going to GC during flu season."

12/19/2017 1:10:46 PM

Quote :

"I don't think the website is GC's biggest problem..."

Nobody said it was.

12/19/2017 1:28:00 PM

BUT Y U MAD THO

12/19/2017 1:56:43 PM

[Edited on December 19, 2017 at 4:06 PM. Reason : ]

12/19/2017 3:53:10 PM

user_info.aspx?user=18283

12/19/2017 5:54:38 PM

I'll never forget how bad this lady wanted a piece of cake from the dessert stand..

I'm people watching, probably while pounding yeast rolls, when I notice this particular lady. Standard GC customer, giant hairdo, orthopedic shoes, short and pear-shaped. She's at the dessert station and is reaching for the last piece of that shitty chocolate cake with too much icing, but it's just out of reach. So she tries twice just to grab it, getting a little closer each time. Then on the last try, on tippie toes, arm extended and trembling she can almost reach, then she just smears her face on the sneeze guard, she was breathing so hard it was fogging up the glass. It gives her that last 1/4" of reach, she snags the cake and walks back to her table happy.

12/19/2017 6:49:08 PM

^lol

not sure if this is still an option but i worked at a place near GC and we would send someone for breakfast take out they would sell by the lb. would get take out boxes stuffed with bacon, sausage, eggs and whatnot. no regrats

[Edited on December 19, 2017 at 7:09 PM. Reason : s]

12/19/2017 7:07:07 PM

Our high school football team got to leave school early for an away playoff game.
Stopped at GC.
Emptied the bourbon street chicken bins.
Had to go back to the school for the team to shit.

12/21/2017 10:09:59 AM

^^still an option. I do that all the time.

[Edited on December 21, 2017 at 11:41 AM. Reason : ]

12/21/2017 11:28:21 AM