Those who drunkenly stuff sandwich meat in their mouths at 2 in the morning.
Those are some heroes right there.
Braving the harsh glow of the refrigerator, courageously opening the in-the-moment complexly-sealed plastic container, navigating the obtuse geometry of folded meat slices through a drunken mouth – these are the warriors in the shadows.
And by God, I boldly step out of those shadows to join my brothers and sisters in (probably flabby) arms.
Because sometimes sandwiches are just too hard to deal with, an Everest to a body barely capable of a mole hill, and I’ll unashamedly have a deli mustard chaser with my shot of ham-sandwich meat, thank you very much.
I laughed so hard at the first sentence in your post! XD
I eat after every night of going out and drinking. And I regret nothing.
I usually stop by a Gyros store, or fish and chips, or just chips, or the carton wrapper that comes with the chips. It’s all good.
Thanks for reading it, and glad it made you laugh! I admit that I do often regret it, but mostly when I don’t really remember it, and my only evidence is waking up next to a strange, half-eaten sandwich the next morning. Like, “how’d you get here?” It’s a good thing I’m not committed to one sandwich, or I’d be a terrible, no good sandwich partner.
And haha, yes, sometimes a carton wrapper can become collateral damage to a bout of drunken eating.
Always better on the way down tho’