Ho Ho Chinese Food
It’s in HUB, on the way to the class you’re always late for
Hours: Mon-Sun (8am-6pm)
Price: $ (or…depends how much you value your stomach, or the time you’ll spend sitting on the shitter afterwards)
This week, me and my bitch ass digestive system went to the infamous HUB Chinese food outlet.
Editor’s Note: May God be with you Nicklaus
Well it’s HUB, so you either love it or hate it. Personally, I enjoy the the cold metal chairs in the middle of an extremely busy walkway. The extroverted introvert in me enjoys seeing classmates, but only for the few fleeting seconds that only allows for a brief hello or head nod. The only downside to sitting here is sometimes you see your political science professor and have a low-key panic attack because you haven’t picked your research topic and it was due that day; but, like fuck there’s so much to write on and how can I limit it to one topic. It looks like she’s going to approach you and you have no concrete answer to give her. Thankfully, she only gives you an enthusiastic wave as she passes.
Look, they’re bad. The noodles, ginger beef, and orange chicken (aka my usual) I ordered on this day were bland but overly salty. The flavours all blended together to form a singular taste that is hard to explain and can really only be experienced. I’ve heard rumours that if you order off the menu and not from the smorgasbord presented, the food is actually quite good. Let me clear up this rumour, because despite my negative comments above, I fucking love Ho Ho’s. Every semester, when exam week rolls around, I joyously eat a shameful amount of the aforementioned combination of deep fried, sauce slathered “meat” and “noodles” and enjoy every bite. There is a uniquely awful taste that propels it into greatness, and solidifies it as a staple of the U of A’s food culture.
Despite my love for Ho Ho’s, the same thing happens again and again. I have never eaten there and had a different outcome. The empty Styrofoam box ends how it starts. Cue the fever, the pain, the gut wrenching sounds. The feeling of helplessness as I succumb to the delicious poison that rests in my bitch ass digestive system.