Subway Follies

The other night I went to Subway to pick up dinner and took my place in line behind an elderly couple and a strung-out, stereotypical white trash man and woman. Little did I know it would be so entertaining...

Sandwich Artist: "Welcome to Subway! How can I help you?"
Old Woman: "I have a coupon. Can I use it on any sandwich?"
Sandwich Artist: "Well, any sandwich except the beefsteak."
Old Woman: "Ok, I'll have the beefsteak."
Sandwich Artist: "You can't use the coupon then."
Old Woman: "But it hasn't expired!"
Sandwich Artist: "I know, but you can't use the coupon on the beefsteak."
Old Woman: "But I want the beefsteak."
(argument continues)

Sandwich Artist #2: "Welcome to Subway! What can I get you?"
Old Man: "I want the new chicken salad."
Sandwich Artist#2: "I'm sorry, but we're out of the chicken salad."
Old Man: "Ok what's in the seafood salad?"
Sandwich Artist #2: "Um, crab meat, mayo, tuna..."
Old Man: "No I don't want that. What's in the tuna salad?"
Sandwich Artist #2: "Tuna, mayo...."
Old Man: "No, I don't want that. What's in the meatball sub?"
Sandwich Artist #2: "Um, meatballs..."
Old Man: "No, I don't want that. What's in the chicken bacon ranch?"
(and so on....)

SA #3: "Welcome to Subway! What I can get you?"
White Trash Woman: "I want a six inch on white."
SA #3: "Ok, what kind of sandwich is it?"
White Trash Woman: [cell phone rings] "Hello? Naw, I'm in the Subways getting dinner you a--hole!"
SA #3: [wide-eyed] "Um, ma'am?"
WTW: [still on the phone] "Well, you tell that sonofab---- that he shouldn't drink so g--d--- much!" [to the sandwich artist] "I said I wanted a FOOTLONG! Dammit these people don't listen."
SA #3: "Um, you said you wanted a six inch."
WTW: "Well, I musta said the wrong thing! I want a FOOTLONG ROAST BEEF WITH EXTRA MAYO! Where's my cigarettes?!"
(and so on...)

SA #4: "Welcome to Subway! How can I help you?"
White Trash Man: "Do you have any vodka?"
SA #4: "I'm sorry, what?"
White Trash Man: "Do you have any VODKA?!"
SA #4: "Um, no I'm sorry. We don't serve that here."
White Trash Man: "Well then forget it. I'm not hungry." [leaves the line]

Only in Bourbonnais...

Life in Lists

It's no secret: I love making lists. On any given day my desk is cluttered with assorted multi-colored sticky notes filled with bullet points. For some reason I feel so much more organized and at peace with the world when everything is written on a sticky note. My favorite to do list is on a neon yellow sticky note taped to my computer (the sticky-ness has worn off) written by the Man:

List to Do in order of Importance!

• Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, strength.
• Love Your husband
• Get Starbucks
• Get Passport photo
• Get Shotgun
• Fix Ankle
• Lunch with Faith

I've managed to scratch off a few of the obvious tasks (getting Starbucks, getting a passport photo, getting a shotgun, and having lunch with Faith). I'm hesitant to scratch off "Fix Ankle" since it's not quite 100% -- I've yet to return to DC's to see just how fixed it is. I'm also a bit wary of scratching off the first two, because that would indicate the task is completed. Yes, I love Jesus and the Man, but I'm not done loving them. So they remain.

All of that being said, you also know I'm not the most committed blogger out here. I could write several blog posts about recent life's happenings, but I just can't bring myself to dedicate an entire post to my new washer and dryer. So, with no further ado, here is a neat and organized bulleted list of what we've been up to.

• The Man and I received a brand-spanking new washing machine and dryer for the ridiculous price of....wait for it....FREE! I can't exactly spill the details as to how we acquired them, but I will say it was completely legal and Olivet appropriate. And I'm absolutely giddy (as is the Jew, because let's be honest, Jews love free stuff).
• I finally ordered my study materials to become an ACE-certified personal trainer. I finally scheduled a date to take my test. I finally have real-live clients who pay me real money to help them get into shape. Too legit.
• My mom recently turned 50. She hates hooplah. So this is a hooplah-less recognition of a previously established fact.
• The Man took his Illinois EMT licensing exam last week. It doesn't really change a lot in terms of our daily life, except when he walks into my office wearing scrubs and a stethoscope on his way to volunteer at the ER. Hellllloooooo doctor!
• The Man and I started Weight Watchers in an attempt to control our disproportioned eating habits. Somehow he gets 420 points a day and I have 16. It's stupid and unfair and just plain stupid.
• The recent monsoons have created a rather large earwig infestation and I am this close to bug bombing our duplex. The Man insists that if he shoots the earwigs with the shotgun, they'll stop reproducing. *sigh* At least he's pretty.
• Apparently I start graduate school in two months. I am in no way prepared. Not even a little bit. I'm hoping my "let's just wing it and see what happens" success from undergrad will carry me through.
• I was showered, dressed, and out the door at 6:25am on a Monday morning. Employee of the Year? Or grand opening of the local Dunkin Donuts? The world may never know...

So that's that, my friends. I have plenty more "Conversations With the Man", but I'm saving those for a particularly boring and uneventful day. You know, since most of my days are filled with endless excitement.

Til then...

Just Another American Midwestern Saturday Night

A bit of background info:

I've lived in the Midwest, aka "Tornado Alley", for 25+ years. Every spring from elementary through high school I would march into the hallway, kneel down facing the wall, and cover the back of my neck with my hands during routine tornado drills. I grew up watching Tom Skilling and "Storm Chasers," learning how to detect prime tornado weather. Tornado watches and warnings are as common in the summer as sunburn.

And yet every time the sirens wail during a storm, I flip out. Ok, maybe that's an understatement...I go berserk. Case in point:

Last Saturday.

While watching America's Got Talent and enjoying our Oberweis ice cream, the National Weather Service declared a tornado warning in the Kankakee area. Naturally, the Man ignored it. And naturally, I ran for the bathroom (the safest place in a house without a basement; I wasn't that scared). I quickly started gathering the essentials for survival and making my goodbye phone calls. Seriously. Berserk.

My tornado survival kit (clockwise from left): a deck of cards, body wash, a candle, the Man's Certified Emergency Response Team kit, my motorcycle helmet, a pillow, our Dave Ramsey envelopes, and matches.

Go ahead. Say it. I'm a huge sally.

Luckily the Man took pity on me, hung up the phone (did I mention he was on the phone with his best friend the entire time I was having a meltdown in the bathtub? I can't blame him.) and joined me in the bathroom. He helped keep my mind off of the impending tornado by taking goofy pictures and challenging me to strip Texas Hold-'Em poker. Despite my preparation, the storm came and went without as much as a broken tree limb.

So maybe I overreacted. Maybe I was a bit embarrassed. Maybe I spent the rest of the evening trying to convince the Man I'm not a baby.

At least we were prepared.