I judged a pie contest. 22 pies. 3 hours. 1 super sugar rush and a triple venti latte later I was in dire need of a bathroom. I made it home just in time. TMI ahead. I'm not embarrassed to tell you it was a leaner and a moaner.
The sugar rush turned me into a Japanese anime character. My eyes were as big as basketballs. My movements were quick and sharp but my math skills were for the birds. If I had known this job entailed math, I would have brought my abacus.
A fellow judge opted for the 8,9,10 method where he only voted in the high range. "You should have done the even odd approach." "Yeah, maybe next year."
One fellow judge took it a bit more seriously than necessary. "Excuse me! If you're discussing the pies you must do so quietly. I am a judge and cannot know who made which pie." "You know, you can move behind the curtain." That was the end of the cordialness.
By the end of my math test, 2 out of the 4 judges were bouncing around like 7 year olds. I don't know how the other 2 did it but I could hardly contain the sugar shakes.
The winner was a banana cream pie. Very tasty and well presented.
Honorable mention goes to my personal favorite, the coconut custard. I'm not a coconut fan but I gained appreciation.
Someone asked me about the worst. After 22, it's hard to tell but one stood out in the appearance category. After slicing a bubbling volcano of what looked like castor oil and applesauce spewed forth. It looked like it would come out in the same fashion.
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