God, you are beautiful.
“What kind of sandwich do you want?” the bitter, nonplussed Subway Restaurant employee keeps asking me, but I’m not listening. You are at the head of the line and all I’m focusing on is getting you to turn around and look at me.
“Ma’am, what do you want on your sandwich?”
I’m standing in a Subway Restaurant somewhere in the middle of Koreatown, Los Angeles and there you are and here am I and I’m not going to let you walk out of this building without noticing me.
“Oh, I’d like a tuna fish sandwich please. Lettuce and tomatoes, but probably no onions. My co-workers have put a strict ban on onions for me. They also told me that I had to order the tuna salad sandwich because they like the way I say, “salad”, I have a tendency to make my “a’s” exaggerated because I’m from Upstate NY.
Lauren, what are you doing? Stop talking!
“They also make fun of the way I say, “pants“. Paaaants.”
The employee is looking at me like I’m a huge asshole.
“And platter.”
Stop it.
“And squash.”
Oh my (more…)
