12:49 a.m. Tell me -- can you figure out from this photo what's going on? Does this look anything like a silent auction to you? Do you see anything for sale? Crack former girl reporter that I used to be, I wasn't fooled for a minute.

I bring you the news, the true story, the full report. This, folks, was not the evening I'd expected. There were no long tables covered with delectable goodies for your quiet perusal and consideration and your foolish, scribbled bids.

Well, there were long tables, and some people would consider what was piled atop a mighty delectable goodie, but not me. Not exactly my cuppa soup.

Sponsored by a nice restaurant called McCormick & Schmick's, the event featured teams of two insane people who have actually prepared months, maybe years in advance for this grueling moment. Like a finely oiled machine, one member of the team opens 'em, and one member disposes of 'em.

There was a team from Occidental College, a few from competing restaurants, and lordy, I don't know who all else. I didn't come prepared to take notes; I came prepared to buy mugs or pillows or potpourri or something amusing to hang on the wall.

Who invents such fun as this? For ten gruesome minutes several highly trained teams of shuckers shucked and swallowers swallowed a bunch of big gray slithering oysters. Lots and lots of slimy oysters. Much hilarity ensued. Tobasco was sprinkled. Fingers were sliced. Eeeuuuwwwww.

My Igor and Star Trek Voyager's Mr. Neelix and professional meanie Mr. Blackwell were among the celebrity judges, but the main judges for the event were various firemen and police officers from all over the place.

I just love men in uniform. These particular men on display tonight were especially polished and natty with epaulettes and gold braid and brass pins and of course those wonderful shiny badges. The place was literally crawling with men in blue. I liked that part.

And how do you judge such a contest? Well, you have this official green piece of paper and you watch closely as the contestants scarf down the slimy bits, and then you count the yucky empty shells and make these marks on the paper: |||| for every five oysters that disappear down a throat.

There was one female contestant. This team was from the California Culinary Institute, and I suppose she was just too dainty.

She had on a really nice necklace.

It was a mild, beautiful evening in lovely Pasadena. All the proceeds of tonight's event went to the San Gabriel Valley Chapter of the Red Cross. There was a camera crew from our local Channel Seven, and hundreds of milling spectators.

There was live music. There was good wine, but really really small servings of it, so you had to keep going back to the bar, which was sort of humiliating.

And what more can you say about a girl who's good at swallowing?

Here is the team that won first prize. They happen to work for the very restaurant that hosted the event, but believe me, there was no way for this guy to cheat. I talked to his proud father and he told me that his son has been eating oysters all week, except today, when he fasted. He never knew his kid had it in 'im.

Josh, on the left, doesn't look too good, and believe me, he wasn't posing for the camera. This is how he really looked. He has just eaten 144 oysters in ten minutes. Mmmmm, good dreams tonight.

Remember: it's always better to be a shucker.

It is not my place to question. It is not my place to complain. Cookbooks were signed and money was raised for charity. Eventually, I even got some real food, cooked and all. Plus, two brand new Sharpie pens left behind on the signing table. I count myself lucky.

Here is the proud-to-bursting second-place team, from the Doubletree Hotel. Can you guess which one of these guys was the shucker and which man is now the temporary home to 130-plus oysters?

Can you imagine going through all this and only coming in second?

Remember: it's always better to be the shucker.