Okay, Leesa is completely spent. I feel like I walked to work on my hands. I have been thinking way too much lately, and I am wondering if it is because (1) I have a smallish noggin and brain and my brain is being overtaxed, (2) I have limited my chocolate intake because of bikini season, or (3) I have not heard President Bush speak this week. Whatever the case, I am going to limit my intellectual pursuits for a while.
Today we are going to talk about color-coordinated hair clips. Yeah, right. Much more likely to talk about nipple clips around here, but then again, here I go pandering to those people using Google to search for online porn. Pick me, pick me! Drive up my traffic.
One last, half-of-a-thought. Muse placed the picture of a bee stinging someone with the blog entry title, "It'll only stings for a second." I couldn't help but remember something I learned in school. The picture reminded me of it because it was so clear. When the bee stings, her guts come out with the stinger. Imagine if those who hurt us would feel that bad – like the bee, they would only sting to protect something more valuable than their own lives. We would certainly be living in a much kinder world if this were the case. Either that, or we would all be extinct because we are a bunch of bitches and bastards. Interesting thought, though.
On to the useful part of the pose. See, I try to be useful, not just on areas of marriage but in common sense things. So this post is more about how to get free gas. No, not really. Siphoning gas can really do damage on your lungs.
The real post starts here.
I think I have the best "ordering strategy" for Subway Sandwich Shoppes. Okay, I am not sure if that is the real name for the place – but Subway sounds like I am going from Union Station to Silver Spring.
Anyway, on to the ordering.
The way Subway is set up, you have to order fast, and the person putting together the sandwich has to likewise assemble the masterpiece just as quickly. But the sandwich engineer also, I am guessing here, needs to limit the stuff that goes on the sandwiches.
So I order my bread, meat and cheese first. I sort of smile to see if I get an extra piece of cheese. It has worked once so far, but I still do my smile thing. Just-in-case.
Then it goes to the next sandwich engineer. This is the part that pays off – because you normally don't get any extra meat or cheese unless you are doing the manager – and she has bad breath. So when they ask for the veggies that go on the sandwich, I don't say, "I want everything but onions" which is what I want. I say, "Lettuce and Spinach." They add a little bit more lettuce and spinach than they normally would have since they think that's all I want. And when the last spinach leaf hits the sandwich, I come back with a "green and banana peppers." I continue to use this tactic until my sandwich is swimming in veggies. That is my aim. I mean, the bread is just so-so, and the meat is almost tasteless (actually a benefit), but the veggies are usually so freakin' fresh.
Then comes the dressings – and I only like a dab of whatever. I know that some just smear the dressings on, so I warn them by saying, "I just want a dash of …" and then I pick out the most appropriate dressing type for the sandwich that was constructed solely for moi.
I used to have a Subway right down the street from where I worked. It was on Drayton, a really bad place to be around when it gets dark. People would come in with their food stamps and get sandwiches, drinks and cookies. Personally, I skip the drink if I can find something nearby.
And I never actually eat my sandwich at Subway. I prefer to take it to a nearby square and eat it in the cool spring air. In the middle of summer, only if the humidity is in the double digits (joke). Some of these big old oak trees even make the summer bearable.
McDonalds French fries
One last tip on French fries at McDonalds. Well, besides for the fact that they harden instantly in your arteries, if you like hot French fries – as for fries without salt. They always put salt on them after they take them out of the vat of fat, so they have to give you fresh fries.
Wow, aren't you glad I got through this without mentioning a six inch whatever? Unpredictable, that's what I like. To be unpredictable.
Hey Dad, it’s an anniversary of sorts. Miss you
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