sayonara, sandwich week.

this is IT, neighbors.
the last day of sandwich week,
there won't be another one this year,
if my calendar is to be believed.
rules is rules, after all.
awwwwww, man!.
but,
honestly,
while i'm sad to see it go,
(three more massive sandwiches from right now)
i'll still be delighted and relieved to get down and dominate
all over a dirty-diaperload of burly burrito tomorrow night
for dinnertime activation on mexican monday.
c'mon.
still,
sandwiches aren't gonna go quietly,
they're gonna get going, and march out as champions.
nobody ever leaves with the title,
that's real,
but sandwiches wear the heavyweight belt all the way to valhalla.
that's also real.
check the big-dinner-dopeness-type teleport:

yuuuuuuuup.
more vegan roast,
because it's just too flippin' good...
babiest baby spinach leaf funtimes, for the nutrients an' that...
two kinds of french-style onions: leeks and shallots, sauteed together,
and all of that on crusty bread,
with some herbed tofu jauns stacked the F* up on 'em.
yeah.
the herb blend was crucial-
g.p.o.p., tarragon, fennel, marjoram, sage, thyme, mustard, and smoky sea salt,
plus a punch of nootch, and a little flour for binding,
because we don't cotton to b!tchbaggery over here.
no way.
the thing is,
those sandwiches were expert,
and that was the whole entire point.
uh-huh.
**********
and lunch?
well,
lunch was store-bought again,
but it had a bun on both sides, framing the mushy middle bits,
so it still worked out the way it was supposed to...
teleport:

yes.
one squishy, smooshed veggie burger,
with spicy hummus,
and stinky red onions,
for my fat face to fire up.
no big deal.
in between touch up tattoos,
small words on words on words as tattoos,
and big giant harley-davidson word tattoos,
i had to have something to keep me going.
otherwise,
my weariness at the wreckage of my workday would've wiped me out.
bummer.
it's a good thing for the tattoo clients of the woodsly goodness
that sandwiches have the flavorful fresh hottness to overpower and
trump their terrible ideas one hundred percent of the time.
*
the hardest style right now?
not many sandwiches left.
in fact,
in between typing,
i tuned-up another 'nother sandwich.
i am not playing around at all.
i'm powerhousing all the treats,
and i'm doing it to get my day underway.
yeah.
check the breakfast-berry-type teleport:

c'mon!
coconut oatmeal almond waffles,
with blue/red-rasp/straw/blackberry homemade fruit compote in between.
THAT'S a sandwich, kids.
and that's what's up.
with a side of real-life maple syrup for dippin'?
obviously.
what am i?
an A*-hole?
nope.
i'm a big fat pig,
and i'm rooting around in my kitchen for all the tasty stuff i can conjure up.
for realsies.
***********
only two sandwiches are left, now.
the clock is ticking towards the final countdown.
these last moments are to be savored, not endured.
we've used up most of the breads,
and there were so many different kinds.
that's the way we do it at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress-
we overdo it.
anybody can have a couple different jauns,
but we want all the different ones.
we're like that.
-
i'll miss these moments,
but i'll master my misery,
and maximize my memories,
and maybe even treat myself to an ice-cream (soy, duh) sandwich for dessert.
what-what, say what, say what?
yeah.
anything can happen;
never quiet, never soft.....