Thursday, June 28, 2007

The Jackson Pollock of Sandwich Artists

That's who I get at Subway, every damned time...

It's a busy ass Subway and there's always at least half a dozen people making sandwiches, so you'd think the odds would be on my side. But without fail, every time I get to the front of the line, there she is: all goofy grin and slightly crossed eyes, just aching to get a dollop of mayonnaise half on my sub and half in the container of black olives. I wouldn't complain if the reason I couldn't close my sandwich properly was that she put way too goddamned much stuff on there, but that's just not the case. I watch her top my sub and I watch the guy next to her top the guy next to mine's and the quantity that these people deal in is precise. But somehow, this lady has perfected (I can only imagine it took years of intense training) the architectural stylings of putting shit on a sub exactly wrong and I'm stuck playing a game of Dodge The Falling Mustard-Drenched Banana Peppers Because You Don't Have Time To Go Home And Get A Change Of Pants.

I've already got the high score and I dare a motherfucker to step up and challenge. I'll even provide the quarters...


Final Score: Blasphemy 1, Broadway 0

I saw Jerry Springer: The Opera at Bailiwick last night. I'll admit that I tend to shy away from musical theatre, attending only once in a blue moon, but I'm beginning to think that may be directly related to the relative lack of shows that encourage me to shout "three-nippled cousin fucker" with the cast. Just something to keep in mind if anyone out there is conducting a marketing survey. Also on the list of things that would get me to your show: a Ku Klux Klan chorus line, the Immaculate Conception referred to as 'raped by an angel', a band of hellions breaking into a rousing chorus of "Jesus Is Gay"

Someone keeping tabs on this?


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