J just got down on his knee and popped the question, and I was like “If there isn’t a book deal in that little box, you can fucking forget it.” He started to cry, so I made him a peanut butter and jelly and ordered my agent to get me that cheddar, pressed between a contract from Simon & Schuster.
That’s probably going to be a tough one to find on Seamless.
Today I didn’t even order J a sandwich, I just recycled the picture from sandwich #4, because who really gives a fuck.
This morning J woke up with a nasty hangover so I ordered him an orange juice and poured it into some Vodka between two slices of Aleve, because I am a goddamned angel.
J and I have been battling about how to raise our non-existent children, so this morning I ordered a bagel with lox and ate it slowly in front of his face until he agreed to future bar and bat mitzvahs in exchange for the second half.
I bought them, J ate them, and if the Italians are calling them “sandwiches,” as far as I’m concerned, they count.
J always says he is allergic to shellfish, but I think a lot of people lie about their allergies or exaggerate their dislike of foods and portray them as actual medical conditions, which is total fucking bullshit. Anyway, J did not enjoy his lobster roll.
J just asked me if I could order him a sandwich, and I was like, “Why don’t you just open up Seamless and order one yourself, you lazy piece of shit.” He got a ham and cheese.
This afternoon I ordered two falafel sandwiches, and while I was taking them out of the bag, one fell on the floor. I scooped it up, picked a hair out of the tahini, and promptly handed the dirty pita to the love of my life.
Last night I awoke at 2am from a dream in which all bread in the world was swept out to sea, leaving me with a withering, baby-less uterus. I immediately ordered two pieces of pizza, turning them towards each other, so they would stick together and handed them off to J. That counts as a sandwich, right?
Today I ordered J a scrambled egg and cheese with bacon on a roll from the local deli. The sandwich was delivered two hours late, and without the promised bacon. Upon this discovery, I looked at J and said, “You better get used to disappointment. You’re 299 sandwiches away from a lifetime’s worth.”