My Annual Take On Why Buffalo Chicken Dip’s Overrated…
So here’s the deal: tomorrow is the Super Bowl, which has become an annual tradition in New England. Every year, swaths of individuals from all over these parts congregate in packs, drink beer, and engage in tantalizing discussions regarding a variety of things like politics and beastiality.
As is tradition, tomorrow is where I put my foot down on one thing that has irked me for over two decades: buffalo chicken dip.
For the record, I—like every other red-blooded American on the planet—love buffalo chicken dip. If there was a way to throw an elastic around my bicep and inject that shit directly into my cephalic vein, I would. That said, I’m sick and tired of everyone claiming to have the best buffalo chicken dip on the face of the Earth.
For starters, I’ve had my fair share of buffalo chicken dip. Nearly every Super Bowl party, 4th of July cookout, or Klan rally I’ve attended in my life has had that shit on deck at one point or another. And you know what? It’s always good. Why? Because it’s fucking buffalo chicken dip, that’s why.
The only other constant that exists at these places is that there’s always someone who claims to make the best buffalo chicken dip. It’s almost somewhat of a complex that’s rivaled only by people who talk about stuffing around Thanksgiving.
For the record, I think stuffing’s deplorable. Every Thanksgiving I tell people this and they constantly reassure me the reason is because I haven’t tried their stuffing.
Like no, your stuffing’s repulsive, and the fact you think you can change my mind on this is an overwhelming contention. When you serve me stuffing, it doesn’t matter what kind of cubed white bread you used; it’s still stuffing, and stuffing’s a joke, and you’re a clown for thinking you can bypass that fact.
It’s the same thing with buffalo chicken dip: I’ll never say your dip sucks, but I’ll also never claim it to be the best. In my opinion, if you have some elitist hierarchy of buffalo chicken dips, you’re a next level hardo. It’s cheese, chicken, and buffalo sauce—figure it out.
Anytime I compliment someone’s dip and someone else tries to tell me I need to try theirs, it reminds me of the pizza complex that New Yorkers have.
I attended college in Connecticut and it was my first time encountering New Yorkers in mass, and let me tell you, they are one insufferable group of asshats when it comes to pizza.
First of all, they refer to pizza as “pie,” which is astronomically stupid because, if you subscribe to that designation, what do you call pie? When you ask this, they just shrug their shoulders and reply “pie.” Fucking morons…
More importantly though, whenever you suggest grabbing “pie,” there’s always one asshat who needs to make it clear that whatever pizza we end up getting delivered is not as good as [insert some Italian name] on/in [insert some street or town in New York].
Like yeah dude, but here’s the deal: It’s 3 AM in the morning, Jon’s puking face in the bathroom upstairs, and I’m pretty sure that place doesn’t deliver cross-state. In other words, just shut up, eat whatever Papa John’s shows up with, and jump off a cliff.
P.S. My aunt makes the best buffalo chicken dip by a mile…
– Joey Boats (@joey_boats)
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