Chips Old Fashioned Hamburgers
Panic attack count: 1
Packed tables count: 12
When I'm feeling like eating a burger but I don't want all that convenience and crappy quality that a fast food restaurant offers, I head on over to Chip's Old Fashioned Hamburgers. I drove to their Cole Avenue location hyped up for some shoestring onion rings, and I was super excited because the parking lot, usually completely packed with cop cars, was empty, and it appeared that I had beaten the lunch rush. And then, the worst of the worst news hit me like a parking space to the face: This location is closed. Holy shit, this place is closed. What the hell am I going to do? Go to Wendy's for a Junior Bacon Fart Sandwich? I don't think so. If my heart stops because of a burger, it's not gonna be one that that fire-crotched whore served up. This can't be happening. Chip's can't be closed.
4350 Lovers Lane
I immediately got into my car and sped to the only other Chip's location that I knew. Get me to Lovers and the Tollway. Stat. And after hyperventilating for about 10 minutes, I turned the corner, and their sign was there, in all its green glory. It said to me, "Get your car over here and fill your face with some tasty shit." And I did.
I ordered a cheeseburger all the way with shoestring onion rings and a Dr Pepper (I'd planned to order a beer because I love how they serve 'em to you in Mason jars, but I was so overwhelmed by the whole freak-out experience that I completely forgot that they even offered beer here. Yeah. I was that fucked up about it). The onion strings were more friedness than they were onion. Kinda seemed like the onions were almost an afterthought, actually, like they were sitting there trying to figure out a way to serve up a bowl of fried batter and decided that a sparing use of onion could be the trick. It sure works for me. They could quite possibly have the least nutritional value of any food on their menu. Dip those suckers in ranch dressing and then you're really talking. Yum. Oh, and the one-third-pound burger was perfection. When I was done with it, I snorted up the poppy seeds that had fallen off the bun onto my table and hit the road. Thank God for the Lovers Lane location.
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