she had that veggie overlapping technique down to an art. dare i say so, after corporate has removed the "sandwich artist" logo from the uniform shirts. my regular subway sandwich is a foot long tuna on wheat with "the works", a small stripe of spicy mustard and a hearty dash of salt-n-pepper. i feel confident using the abbreviated and hyphenated form of "salt-n-pepper" since the seasoned concoction now exists in a single shaker uniform conglomeration - which i love. so i tell the girl this is what i want. she says they are out of wheat. i feel dismayed and impotent. she says, "but we have oats and honey." i say, "yeah, i'll trust you on that." then she starts building this sandwich like she's building the frickin' rome coliseum, the dedgum sistene chapel, the dern busch stadium, and i'm flippin' the crap out cause this sandwich is growing and growing like it's on steroids, but it ain't, cause it's subway so it's all natural. and then she starts overlapping my veggies: first the tomatoes, then the cucumbers, and then she overlaps each and every pickle. seriously, i didn't know whether to write about all this here or in my journal. this was my dream sandwich, my birthday sandwich eight months early. and so i says, "is your manager here?" and she says, "no." and i says, "when will your manager be back?" and she says, "tomorrow morning." and i says, straight to her, like i don't even feel shy, "hey, what's your name?" and she says, shyly, "marisol." and i says, "marisol, i'm calling your manager tomorrow morning and bragging on you. i've never had a subway sandwich like this." and my friend nathan jones, who's standing right there with me the whole time, is all like, "right on, man. that sandwich is HUGE!" and then we both marvel that marisol can't even close the thing cause it's freaking colossal, and it's right about then that i'm really glad we bought the gooder beers cause i would hate to eat this beautiful creation alongside a can of schlitz.
then we went back to nathan's house and watched WOLF CREEK, which freaked my crap out. this film proves that the greatest horror exists in the imagination. and i guaran-damn-tee that i will not be camping in the australian outback anytime soon. wow. and double wow. this film, for me, was phenomenally more intense and twisted than anything eli roth has hosteled up to date. dang. i'm still reeling.
my subway sandwich gets 5 banana peppers out of 5. red hook longhammer IPA gets 3.5 piney notes out of 5. WOLF CREEK gets 4.5 eli roth should-have-beens out of 5. and marisol's boss gets a call from the hamster first thing tomorrow morning. sandwiches like this should be framed.