Look, this aint my personal blog, I’m not going to get personal, this is a fucking sandwich blog and I know that GF is not going to want the gory details spilled on a sandwich blog. I’m just giving a heads up to you, the reader, so that you don’t at some point notice those two capital letters have been missing for a while and then just assume I have her hacked up in my closet or some weirdo bullshit like that.
The truth is we broke up because she got accepted into the space program and I’m just not in a place in my life where I can pack things up and move up to the International Space Station. How would I even write this blog? You think there are delis in space?
ANYhoo, I knew this week was about going to a place I’d not been to before every day but I haven’t been to Zakia in so long I figured I would cap the week with that. Zakia was the place where I would splurge on payday instead of brown bagging when I worked at UCare - “UCare: Health Care That Starts With You” aka “UCare: Yo, Fuck Your Birth Control” aka “UCare: No Oxygen For You” aka “UCare: Take A Chlamydia Test!”
I really fucking hated working there but I liked Zakia. And I liked Empire next door to it. I had a one-night stand with a gal from Empire - What’s that? Just because I’m newly single doesn’t mean I have license to be vulgar?
Where’s the fun in that? I want to be vulgar! It’s literally my only Snapchat hookup story!
Yes, I had Snapchat. It was actually pretty boring. And then they made that shitty Rihanna joke and I may be too old for Snapchat but you’re never too old to play for Team Riri and I straight deleted that shit.
Anyway, like a year later she won tickets to a folk music festival up by Duluth and asked me if I wanted to go but GF and I had just started dating and I’m not into a whole weekend of folk music, Inside Llewyn Davis is long enough, thanks, so I told her my guy Nio was a solid guy but she didn’t know him and so she just wound up not going to the folk music festival and I felt bad for her but what could I do? Tell the person I just started seeing, “Hey, so there’s this pastry chef I boinked a year ago that wants me to take a totally platonic weekend getaway with her”?
Nah. That wouldn’t play well.
SO!!! Yes yes yes, Zakia Zakia Zakia! I got up there about lunch time and I got in line and it’s been three years so I recognize none of the faces and I consider a gyro or a cheesesteak and I settle on cheesesteak and the lady takes my order and asks me what kind of cheese and I know they don’t have cheez whiz so I say American and I go up to the register and the lady there is pulling double duty ringing up one lady and me at the same time and I tell her I got a cheesesteak and anything else? Yeah, lemme get a spanakopita and a Mexican Coke.
A spinach pie?
Yeah, a spanakopita.
The spinach pie.
Yeah, the spanakopita.
So you want the spinach one, yes?
Yes, I’ll take the spinach one… The spanakopita.
There is no reason on the planet that should have been that complicated but it was.
I get my food and I go outside and sit on the bench in the shade and… The cheesesteak was right-off-the-grill hot, it tasted like I expected it to, meat, cheese, peppers… Thing is, those peppers pretty much sat at one end of the sandwich, which was odd, you can even see it in the photo up there. You would think that with it being that obvious, they would have shifted things around.
Anyway, the steak was tender, the peppers were firm, the lot of cheese I saw the lady put on the sandwich was melted down to a thin ectoplasmic membrane flimsily holding the meat together and anchoring everything inside a fluffy roll.
The spanokopita was straight up sour and wasn’t my thing.
You know about Mexican Coke.
And then I packed up my wrappers and threw those out and got ready to leave.
Not a whole lot more to say. This weekend wraps up my vacation and then I go back to work on Monday, back to a mail room that’ll look like a disaster area and probably a dozen emails from my boss who doesn’t listen to a goddamned thing I have to say anyway.
But a quick note on spanakopita:
You can help me never go back to that office again by buying my actual-real-yes-it-exists work of fiction, Batpussy: A Speculative Fiction which includes two, count ‘em, two characters with the surname Spanakopita, Irving and his nephew Milquetoast. This is a book you can have in your home and keep out of reach of children for the low low price of $10.10. And you can tell your friends to buy their own copy, and tell them to tell their friends to buy a copy and tell their friends.
It’s got everything you could ever want in a book: Cocaine, fried chicken, murder, sex, speed, and that’s just in alphabetical order.
Get yours today!
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/batpussy-charlie-pauken/1129374780?ean=9781538094839
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