** Let me begin by saying I don’t really know how to do this blog thing. The only blogs I read are ones that talk about Lindsay Lohans vagina and coke-fueled escapades. But, on the off chance that someone is bored enough to read my inane thoughts on all things unimportant—I am starting this blog. I hope you (lone reader) enjoy it.
Sandwiches Are Depressing:
Let me be clear: I am not talking about French roll, imported mustard, Munster cheese (is that fancy? I am a lactard so dairy products are beyond my expertise) type sandwiches. I am talking sandwiches for what they really are—what they were meant to be: sliced white bread, cheddar cheese, mayo and grandpa’s leftover mystery meat.
Sure, as the year’s progress and the memories of being picked last for dodgeball start to slowly but surely fade, the mystery might evolve to sliced turkey and maybe the white bread turns to wheat. No matter.
First, you are probably making these changes not because you are growing up, but because you are fat. We’ll come back to that.
Sandwiches are depressing (especially after the age of 7—before that you are except and any and all problems can and should be blamed on your neurotic, overbearing mother). Picture a cafeteria, any cafeteria in America. Look for the kid sitting alone. The kid may be fat or smelly or short or ugly but you can be sure that kid is eating a sandwich. Made by the loving hands of his mother, or the insecure hands of himself, his head is bent over that sandwich and he is nibbling at a corner of that cheddar cheese like a friendless mouse. It should be noted that this sandwich will, without question be sliced into two triangles. That kid will be holding on to his sandwich with both hands, clutching tightly his only friend.
Now, about fat people. Let me make this very clear. Not all fat people eat sandwiches. Not all people who eat sandwiches are fat (this blog is not endorsed by Dr. Atkins). The Mary Kates of the world may eat sandwiches, but she will have her own issues. Fat people however, seemed to be drawn to a sandwich paradox. From a distance, their lunch will have the guise of being healthy. Have you ever noticed how obese sandwich eaters look both smug and guilty, as though they have a delicious secret and are terrified of being found out? Wheat bread will coat the outside, but inside will be the delectable truth. There will be mayonnaise and Oscar Myer. The eater will crane their neck forward hungrily. Then the devouring will begin.
. For the lonely, sandwiches provide company; for the timid a stable routine. Whatever the reason, if you see a good ‘ol sandwich on store bought white bread, there is a sad soul about to take a bite.
Tags: oscar myer, sandwiches, Uncategorized
