I like making fart noises. You know, the ones your first grade teacher referred to as ""bathroom noises."" This juvenile habit is part of my constant urge to rouse an abashed snicker out of a crowd with sheer inappropriateness. But I'm a junior in college now, so for some time I've been plotting an even greater act of childish vulgarity: getting the word ""penis"" into one of my columns.
Thanks to the Penis Pancakes of Lisa Hooyman, I have finally done it. Over the past two football seasons, Hooyman has turned her phallic flapjacks into a pre-game tradition to rival all others.
The ritual grew out of Hooyman's passion for pancake-making—a sign in her kitchen proudly proclaims ""Lisa's House of Pancakes."" Lisa and her roommates routinely enjoyed pancakes on home football mornings, washed down with cold beer—a pairing straight out of the French Culinary Institute. But something was missing from their pre-game breakfast.
""Just plain pancakes are boring,"" said Tanya Bruskewitz, one of Hooyman's roommates. ""They don't bring the crowds.""
Naturally, they turned to phallic pancakes—apparently nothing draws people in like the penis (some sociologist probably wrote a book on this theory).
Hooyman has now become the master of edible male genitalia. Her creations have grown in sophistication, as her penises now come in an array of shapes and colors.
""Just like real life,"" she explained.
Hungry Badger fans can enjoy blue balls, ""hooks"" and even Lance Armstrongs (you figure it out). And while Hooyman rarely muffs a flip, nothing stirs a drunken crowd like a folded penis.
It only gets better as you watch the unique reactions of each diner when they receive their first penis. Most arrive aware of the theme, but faces uniformly read ""Are you serious?"" when the doughy phallus flops in front of them.
With the aid of alcohol, most are quick to find humor in the situation—when else can girls have ""sword fights?"" Some, however, stare at their plate as if faced with cow manure.
""Dude, I'm really having trouble doing this,"" remarked one proudly masculine attendee.
For such truly insecure diners, Hooyman will gladly make an assortment of other genitalia. Her only rule: ""You have to try the penis first, or you'll never know if you like it."" Somehow I don't think this should become a guiding principle for the rest of our lives.
No matter what kind of genitalia you fancy, one thing is for sure: Penis pancakes truly bring Badger fans together. On an average Saturday, Hooyman will go through two entire boxes of pancake mix, three bottles of syrup and will feed approximately 100 of her friends. Parents mingle with students, and new friendships are made as sticky penises are enjoyed. It seems erotic cuisine tears down the walls that divide.
Sitting at the counter of ""Lisa's House of Pancakes,"" I decided Penis Pancakes was the perfect pre-game ritual. I felt like a kid again: lazing around, eating pancakes, snickering at infantile sexual puns and drinking beer (what four-year-old didn't enjoy a Blatz from time to time?). And really, what better way is there to prepare for three hours of hyperactive immaturity at Camp Randall?
