Tag Archives: adventures in food

Me and My Shadow

I wouldn’t call myself claustrophobic per se. But I do have an intense dislike of confined spaces, a trait I share with pretty much every animal on the planet. So naturally, I’ve chosen to live in New York City, which is a series of confined spaces piled on top of one another.

For reasons I can’t quite place right now, I decided to go to a different deli than usual to get my coffee and breakfast. And for reasons that are even harder to determine, I went to the deli that once served me the worst sandwich ever made. So I should have expected to be a little disoriented and confused. What I didn’t count on was starring in a mini-French Connection subway platform scene. (I played Popeye Doyle in this version.)

Like most NY delis, this one doesn’t have a lot of room to spare for coffee preparation. It needs the space for 1700 different kinds of energy shots and wasabi peas. Even when judged by NY standards, however, this deli is aggressive in its waste of space. You know how there are design consultants who can help you maximize your space in a crowded urban environment? This deli went with these consultants’ bizzarro counterparts. “This guy comes highly recommended–he spiffed up the Collyer Brothers’ place!”

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Epic Fail: Lunch Edition

Today I ate the worst sandwich ever made. I am sure of it.

Sure, Turkish prison food is probably worse, if Midnight Express is any indication. I bet there’s some street food in Mumbai or Caracas that’ll make you doubt the existence of God. In a purely qualitatively way, this sandwich was not worse than these things, or any other filthy comparison you could conjure up.

This was the worst sandwich ever made in the way that Plan 9 from Outer Space and Manos: The Hands of Fate are the worst movies ever made. There are worse movies, but their failure is not compelling. Plan 9 and Manos fail in such grotesquely unique ways that you can’t help but watch the whole cinematic train wreck.

Ever head home really late after drinking too much, but by the time you get home you’re starting to sober up? So you decide wolf down some food before you go to bed so you won’t have too bad of a hangover the next morning? And while you’re waiting for a Hot Pocket to heat up in the microwave, you turn on HBO and they’re showing The Wicker Man? And you sit down and watch it, and you find out it’s even more insane in non-You Tube form?
So you stay up way, way too late, knowing you’re going to totally feel like shit at work the next day, because you just have to see how Nicolas Cage is gonna up the retard quotient in scene after scene?

If so, you will understand me when I say that this sandwich was so monstrously awful that I had to keep eating it.

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