Love Sandwich

1.12.07
4:05 PM
Sandwiches are great.
They were originally made in order to save time (instead of sitting and eating bread, lettuce, tomato and meat you would just stack them together) but have since become something…bigger. Something more integral to our daily lives.
As children we are introduced to the world of sandwiches with the magic of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
And that is just the beginning.
You have your typical meat/cheese sandwiches: ham and Swiss, turkey and Munster, bologna (why are we taught as children to pronounce this as “ba-LOW-nee”?) and American.
You have your meat/vegetable sandwiches: the BLT and liverwurst (which is disgusting) and onion.
Your Zen (upper class) or welfare (lower class) sandwiches: mayonnaise, mustard and bread sandwiches respectively.
Your salad sandwiches: egg, tuna, chicken, shrimp.
Your ethnic sandwiches: Cucumber, Reuben, pastrami and rye.
You club sandwich for meat-loving fat people and toothpick enthusiasts.
Add any number of condiments and the universe of flavor expands.
Heat it up and you have gone from lunch to dinner in the time it takes to jump a few degrees on the thermometer.
There’s also the always delicious dessert sandwich which is facilitated by using honey, Nutela and/or Fluff.
There’s even something for vegans and Elvis with the peanut butter and onion sandwich and the fried banana, peanut butter and bacon sandwich.
Then, some genius discovered that pretty much anything can be a sandwich as long as there are two slices of bread involved.
Hence the Thanksgiving sandwich.
The same genius (who actually turned out to be a mad man) then took the next step and sealed the sandwich inside itself with the wrap.
A perfect example of these techniques used in perfect harmony can be found in the Hot Pocket.
There is no wrong way to make a sandwich unless you use Vegemite or Marmite.
I strongly suggest you try sandwich experimentation in order to broaden your food horizons.
I myself have invented the Xmax which consists of proschuto and mozzarella stacked high between two pancakes.
Don’t you say a fucking word until you’ve tried it.

On an unrelated note: today was just fine.
I found out I can attach my iPod to my Bose Wave thing and did so with excellent results.
I then headed out to pick up the next two Bond books and I found the very last copy of Gorillaz: Rise of the Ogre at the uptown Barnes & Noble’s for 50% off.
I also got my copy of 12 Rounds’ album “My Big Hero” which kicks fucking ass and which features Atticus Ross (producer of most recent NIN albums), Barry Adamson (of David Lynch fame) and Nick Cave (“the Stephen King of rock”).
I did have to use my AK, but just a little.
Other than that, everything was great.

Tomorrow I explore the dark heart of New York City with Chris and then there’s rehearsal for “Hidden In This Picture” (the Aaron Sorkin play which I’m in that goes up Thursday February 8th, Friday February 9th and Saturday February 10th at the Red Room in Downtown NYC).
Sunday will consist of more Brunch fun with Lauren and Chris in LIC and an extended bout of bringing sexy back consisting of a trip to see “Alpha Dog”.
In my defense for seeing a movie starring Justin Timberlake: remember Mark Walberg? Did you see him in the “Good Vibrations” video lifting weights in a factory while is was raining and think that one day he would be the star of “Boogie Nights”, one of the best movies ever?
Did not fucking think so.
Well, I am hedging my bets.
Anyone interested in joining must be willing to beg for a spot.
Space is extremely limited for people who are not actively trying to bring sexy back.
You know who you fucking are.

And now it's even sooner...

It’s 1:38 on 8/23
I think the “important thing” I mentioned earlier just happened. I just ate the best sandwich I’ve had in over ten years. Most of you have been to/ leered at in the deli on my corner. I have a “the usual” there. Pepper turkey, Munster cheese, lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise on a “hero” (a nine-inch white roll). It costs four dollars and is usually enough to stop me from bitching about being hungry. It’s a good sandwich. Not earth-shatteringly good, but good. Some days, very good. Some days not. Every once in a while I’ll get a roll that’s a little stale, some bitter lettuce or a bit of unripe tomato etc. nothing holocaustic and never anything squitterific. But today…oh my scrot and nipples…I had the mother of all sandwiches. It was like Doritos to a stoner, a cold beer to a sweaty redneck, erect black cock to Kaitlyn, Popeye’s biscuits to Jade, artsy vintage S&M clothes being given away by David Lynch, Dita Von Teese and Richard Kern to Christina…IT WAS LIKE EATING THE FECES OF GOD. And now it’s gone. In my tummy, soon to be poop clogging the toilet of my dunney hut. Sadly, this sandwich was a razor...and this razor was double-edged. One, by 4 PM I will have forgotten the bliss that was in my mouth and two, I know that I will never have a sandwich like that again. I should really kill myself now…whilst at the peak of happiness and not after I’ve had the first bite of my next sandwich…reminding me of how happy I was and will never be again.
That job does a number on me every time I go in. You should read the stuff I don’t post here. All plans for this weekend are canceled for me. Possibly the Kill Bill-a-thon will remain, but most likely not. Why? Oh ho, if I told you, then you’d know and then none of you would care…BWA HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!!!! Now kill them Owl Boy, while they are pondering!!!
Also, Denise thanks again for the graphics. You rizzule the schizzool.