7,8, better stay up late...
What the what? A Freddy Krueger reference? You got that right, Dillweeds! Pulling out all the stops!!!
Okay, so those that read this blog regularly(and by my calculations, that means several million people, domestic and international) know that my intention was to have the 6th birthday of Sandwich Flats coincide with the 1500th post. Well, after a valiant effort, that was a miserable failure. I am still about 40 posts short. Pathetic, I know, but what are you gonna do, huh?
Anyhoo, as I realized that the dream of a 6th birthday/1500 postapalooza was slipping through my fingers, I realized that I needed to come up with something different to do for the 6th Birthday, and I knew that simply a clever Nightmare on Elm Street reference would not be enough(though it was a fantastic start, don't you think?). No, I needed to do something else. But what? I wracked my feeble brain. And it finally came to me: LSD!!
Yes, I would set up the webcam, drop some acid, and let the magic happen!
Well, as one might guess, 12 hours of a fat, shirtless, sweaty man playing air bongos to a loop of Kansas' "Carry On Wayward Son" is CAPTIVATING viewing. Unfortunately, at some point during the festivities, I decided that the webcam was stealing my soul, so I immersed in a class of Sprite Zero so I could relax without the the prying eyes of "Big Brother" glaring and judging me.
Fortunately, I had the foresight to have a notebook on hand. And of course, I was able to take some very coherent notes.What's that? You would like me to share those notes with you? Well, I guess maybe I could...
6:45 pm- Nothing yet. Just sitting here. Chillin'.
6:46 pm- Okay, A small army of wombats have emerged from under the bed.They seem to be friendly. I think I might try and talk to the one wearing the French World War I helmet, he seems to be the leader.
7:05 pm- Okay, I have had a talk with Christophe, and we seem to have reached an accord...They will rule the space underneath the bed(which will be called "Wombattia") and I will not interfere, and they will not cause any trouble for the space outside Wombattia. The discussions got tense for a few minutes there, but luckily cooler heads prevailed.
7:10pm- Seriously wondering why I EVER listen to any song other than "Carry On Wayward Son" by Kansas. It is the hottest jam ever!
7:15pm- I worry there maybe unrest in Wombattia...I hear a lot of "Rage Against the Machine" coming from under the bed, and there are rumors that Christophe has limited the wombats internet access. Currently all they can watch are "Touched By An Angel" reruns on HULU.
7:29pm-I think I can hear footsteps two blocks over.
7:40pm- "Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to a get a glimpse beyond this illusion. i was soaring ever higher...But I flew too high." Amen, Kerry Livgren.
7:55pm- Christophe is dead, and Wombattia is now being led by Marcel, the leader of the resistance,and a popular wombat mime.
8:05pm-Really enjoying the texture of this bread, man. have you ever, like, FELT bread, man? I bet you haven't.
8:16pm- I think I misjudged the bread. I really don't trust it now.
8:37pm-Wombattia is eerily quiet...I suppose that is due to the mime regime.
9:12pm- eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap
9:59pm- IT'S ALMOST 10!!!!!
10:17-Now it's 10:17...How did I miss 10?
10:34pm- The camera was not to be trusted. It has been neutralized. huh. Neutralized...That's a fun word to say: neutralizedneutralizedneutralized...
11:24pm- I think there may be more unrest in Wombattia. I have been hearing whispers, and under the mime regime, even that is unlawful. If someone puts on even a James Taylor cd, I fear violence may erupt.
11:33pm-The whispers have grown louder...And I think I hear a wombat humming Nick Drake...I think the end may be near for the mimes.
11:48pm- Turnips
12:19 am- The Mime regime came to a swift and markedly non-silent end. Apparently, Sebastien is now in power, and the corpse of Marcel is being hung from the bedpost.These are truly trying times, my friends.
12:52 am- "Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man, though my mind could think i still was a madman"
1:45 am-Was that bookcase always in the shape of Shelley Winters?
2:26 am- I have requested an audience with Sebastien, as I fear the continued unrest in Wombattia may soon spill out from under the bed, dealing a rather large harsh to my mellow. At the moment, I don't know if my mellow can handle even the smallest harsh.
2:49 am- Looking out the window, can see the building next door breathing...Good to know it's still alive.
3:07-I have spoken with Sebastien...I think we have reached an uneasy peace...He definitely did not appreciate my shirtlessness, or that I told him to stop throwing his fingernails at me, but I think we will still be able to co-exist.
3:27 am- This Mountain Dew tastes strangely like milk...It is also an odd, white color.
4:17 am- Man, I wish I still had Spirograph.
5:00 am- The wombats have gone.'m not sure where or why, but Wombattia is deserted.I feel sad, but oddly at peace.
5:04 am- I think I'll put on some T. Rex...After all...Life's a gas,ain't it?
I must have dozed off shortly after that. But there you have it.Sandwich Flats is six years old.
Peace, y'all.
Showing posts with label Sandwich Flats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sandwich Flats. Show all posts
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
From The Vault: The Story of "Sandwich Flats"
Over the years, I have been asked many questions: "why is the sky blue ?" " Is that a perm ?" " are you still here ?"" can I borrow your copy of Hey Soul Classics?" "Who are you and how did you get in my house ?" "Could you step out of the car please,sir ?"...But I think the one I have been asked most often is..."What the fuck does Sandwich Flats mean ?"
Well, it's an old folk tale...Mostly handed down through the generations through the great tradition of oral storytelling...Back in the late '90's, I said, "Fuck all that oral storytelling. I can't be expected to remember all them words! Time and the demon marijuana have ravaged my brain! I shall write down the "Tale Of Sandwich Flats"! then, I will not be required to remember it!"
I went down to the local watering hole, and had Old Blind No Teeth McGavin tell me the story of the Flats, which I recorded with my handy dandy tape recorder, and then spent several hundred hours transcribing. But, now it was saved for all posterity!
Until I lost the written version. Oops. And for the last several trips out west, attempting to find anyone who could tell the tale, but they were all gone. Old Blind No Teeth McGavin had disappeared. Al "Blinky" Bevington had joined up with the Circus, and was out on the road. Phil "Fingers" McGee had not been seen since he fondled the fiancee of a local crime boss. The whole gang was gone. The Tale Of Sandwich Flats was lost. Lost forever...
Or until Sunday, the 12th of October, 2008. I was searching through a box of old writings and such, and I came across my original handwritten copy of the tale, as well as the typed copy I had made as a "backup". all those prayers had been answered! I like to think that maybe it was the soul of "Fingers", that guided it back to me..I did feel a bit of a phantom tickle on my ass as I found the paper in the box. A sign form beyond the grave ? Perhaps...Perhaps not. But enough of all that...I now give to you...
Well, it's an old folk tale...Mostly handed down through the generations through the great tradition of oral storytelling...Back in the late '90's, I said, "Fuck all that oral storytelling. I can't be expected to remember all them words! Time and the demon marijuana have ravaged my brain! I shall write down the "Tale Of Sandwich Flats"! then, I will not be required to remember it!"
I went down to the local watering hole, and had Old Blind No Teeth McGavin tell me the story of the Flats, which I recorded with my handy dandy tape recorder, and then spent several hundred hours transcribing. But, now it was saved for all posterity!
Until I lost the written version. Oops. And for the last several trips out west, attempting to find anyone who could tell the tale, but they were all gone. Old Blind No Teeth McGavin had disappeared. Al "Blinky" Bevington had joined up with the Circus, and was out on the road. Phil "Fingers" McGee had not been seen since he fondled the fiancee of a local crime boss. The whole gang was gone. The Tale Of Sandwich Flats was lost. Lost forever...
Or until Sunday, the 12th of October, 2008. I was searching through a box of old writings and such, and I came across my original handwritten copy of the tale, as well as the typed copy I had made as a "backup". all those prayers had been answered! I like to think that maybe it was the soul of "Fingers", that guided it back to me..I did feel a bit of a phantom tickle on my ass as I found the paper in the box. A sign form beyond the grave ? Perhaps...Perhaps not. But enough of all that...I now give to you...
The Tale of Sandwich Flats
It all started with a man that went by the name Timothy Dimes. It was the name his Mom and Pop gave him, and it was the name that he kept. Timothy was, by most accounts and in most ways, and unremarkable man. He was of average height and weight. He was not handsome, but certainly not ugly.He had a mid sized home, a mid-sized car, and a mid-sized dog(named Spot, of course). He was married to an average looking woman, and they had two average children, a boy and a girl, naturally.
There was, however, one thing in Timothy's life that was above average. Did I say above average? I meant WELL above average. Hell, it was stupendous! It was splendiferous! It was spectacular! Are you simply breathless with anticipation now ? Can you barely contain yourself waiting to find out what this spectacular thing is ?
Wait no more...It was his ability to make a sandwich. Now, you might scoff, but it's true. His sandwiches were out of this world, or "off the hook", as the kids these days say. people came from miles around, other countries even, for as taste, or even just a glimpse of one of his sandwiches. he made all kinds- Turkey & Swiss on a roll, Ham & Cheddar, Corned Beef on rye, BLT's, vegetarian hoagies...You name it, he could make it. And make it better than any sandwich you ever had.
On top of being able to make kickass traditional sandwiches, Timothy also had a knack for making absolutely delicious sandwiches out of a seemingly horrible combination of ingredients. hell, i once tasted a sandwich he created out of seven grain bread, soy sauce,beef tongue, tarragon, sliced olives and eggplant...It was absolutely delicious!!! I swear to you, it was one of the finest sandwiches I have ever eaten. I don't know how, but the guy did it. It was remarkable!
I'm sure that you folks think that Mr. Dimes made millions of dollars from these culinary gifts he possessed, right ? Well, that would certainly be the "Hollywood movie, People magazine feature, Feel-good" ending to the tale. But it would also be a flat out lie.
Like all geniuses(or is it geniusi? No matter, really), Timothy Dimes was a bit peculiar about his talents.He staunchly refused to sell his sandwiches on the open market. he never had his own Food Network show. No cook books. He felt that it would be a corruption of his talents.He was not averse, however, to winning a twenty dollar bet here and there when someone would bet him that he could not make a delicious sandwich out of ingredients they chose for him.(No one can ever remember him losing a single one of those bets.) But he would NOT sell sandwiches.
From time to time, his exploits would reach the ears of someone like Anton Subway or Jeffrey Von Blimpie, who would stop by and persuade him to enter the chain deli business. Timothy would politely turn them away, with a sandwich for the road, of course.He was content to make sandwiches for his friends and family, and perhaps the occasional passerby, and win enough bets to keep himself in meats and condiments.He was a man of particular principles, that's for sure.
As you may have guessed, Timothy lived in the apartment that is now known as "Sandwich Flats". He made most of his sandwiches there, and crowds would gather there, to watch him work, and perhaps score a taste of one of his sandwiches.
The name "Sandwich Flats" evolved over time. at first, people would say they were going to try and find "that Sandwich Guy's Place". later, a young hipster called it the "Sandwich Hut", and that name seemed to stick for a short while, but it never seemed quite right. Finally, in the late '70's, a man by the name of Chris Weston, who was at the time a roadie for a band called "The Discotastic", asked his cousin when they were going to visit that "Sandwich Flat" he had heard so much about. Someone relayed the phrase to Timothy, and being a rather large Steinbeck fan, he fell in love with it. From that moment on, the apartment was known as "Sandwich Flats"(Incidentally, when he did visit, Mr. Weston had a Roast Beef & Brie on pumpernickel. He described the sandwich as "Sandwich-o-tastic!")
And there you have it, Crimestoppers, the long lost Tale of Sandwich Flats.
There was, however, one thing in Timothy's life that was above average. Did I say above average? I meant WELL above average. Hell, it was stupendous! It was splendiferous! It was spectacular! Are you simply breathless with anticipation now ? Can you barely contain yourself waiting to find out what this spectacular thing is ?
Wait no more...It was his ability to make a sandwich. Now, you might scoff, but it's true. His sandwiches were out of this world, or "off the hook", as the kids these days say. people came from miles around, other countries even, for as taste, or even just a glimpse of one of his sandwiches. he made all kinds- Turkey & Swiss on a roll, Ham & Cheddar, Corned Beef on rye, BLT's, vegetarian hoagies...You name it, he could make it. And make it better than any sandwich you ever had.
On top of being able to make kickass traditional sandwiches, Timothy also had a knack for making absolutely delicious sandwiches out of a seemingly horrible combination of ingredients. hell, i once tasted a sandwich he created out of seven grain bread, soy sauce,beef tongue, tarragon, sliced olives and eggplant...It was absolutely delicious!!! I swear to you, it was one of the finest sandwiches I have ever eaten. I don't know how, but the guy did it. It was remarkable!
I'm sure that you folks think that Mr. Dimes made millions of dollars from these culinary gifts he possessed, right ? Well, that would certainly be the "Hollywood movie, People magazine feature, Feel-good" ending to the tale. But it would also be a flat out lie.
Like all geniuses(or is it geniusi? No matter, really), Timothy Dimes was a bit peculiar about his talents.He staunchly refused to sell his sandwiches on the open market. he never had his own Food Network show. No cook books. He felt that it would be a corruption of his talents.He was not averse, however, to winning a twenty dollar bet here and there when someone would bet him that he could not make a delicious sandwich out of ingredients they chose for him.(No one can ever remember him losing a single one of those bets.) But he would NOT sell sandwiches.
From time to time, his exploits would reach the ears of someone like Anton Subway or Jeffrey Von Blimpie, who would stop by and persuade him to enter the chain deli business. Timothy would politely turn them away, with a sandwich for the road, of course.He was content to make sandwiches for his friends and family, and perhaps the occasional passerby, and win enough bets to keep himself in meats and condiments.He was a man of particular principles, that's for sure.
As you may have guessed, Timothy lived in the apartment that is now known as "Sandwich Flats". He made most of his sandwiches there, and crowds would gather there, to watch him work, and perhaps score a taste of one of his sandwiches.
The name "Sandwich Flats" evolved over time. at first, people would say they were going to try and find "that Sandwich Guy's Place". later, a young hipster called it the "Sandwich Hut", and that name seemed to stick for a short while, but it never seemed quite right. Finally, in the late '70's, a man by the name of Chris Weston, who was at the time a roadie for a band called "The Discotastic", asked his cousin when they were going to visit that "Sandwich Flat" he had heard so much about. Someone relayed the phrase to Timothy, and being a rather large Steinbeck fan, he fell in love with it. From that moment on, the apartment was known as "Sandwich Flats"(Incidentally, when he did visit, Mr. Weston had a Roast Beef & Brie on pumpernickel. He described the sandwich as "Sandwich-o-tastic!")
And there you have it, Crimestoppers, the long lost Tale of Sandwich Flats.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Holy Hellfuck ! Sandwich Flats is Three Years Old !!!!!
To quote Shelley winters, "Well spank my ass and call me Wilbur!"
Who woulda thunk that Sandwich Flats would make it to three years old ? Certainly not my dear friend Keith Moon, who predicted that my blog would sink like a "Lead Balloon". Thanks Keith, you jerk.
So I suppose at times like this, introspection is kind of natural, isn't it ? No ? Well too bad, as I plan to introspect my ass off, so there.
What have we learned, lo these three years here at old sandwichflatsdotblogspotdotcom ?
That I like lists.
That I like lyric and movie quote trivia
That I have very little shame(testicular ultrasound, anyone ?)
I watch a lotta tee vee.
I am addicted to ellipses...
I like telling people when I think something Rocks/Kicks Ass !!
That the few readers I have were very caring when my Dad passed away in November.
I have a lot of free time on my hands.
I believe I created the swear "hellfuck"
That I have Special Lady who must be the kindest, most patient person on the planet.
And twin daughters that I would die for.
I came clean on my steroid use.
That I am snubbed by People magazine, Pat O'Brien and The Catholic Church.
That I am phobic of Spiders and living dolls.
I am a big fan of alliteration
I could keep going, but that would just be cruel, wouldn't it ? But what have YOU learned here at the Flats ? Please feel free to share.
I want to thank those few folks that do read for reading, and I would like to give a special shout out to Feral Mom over at Gone Feral, as she was the first one who posed the question, "Why don't you have a blog ?" And the rest, is history...Long winded, pointless history.
Peace, Crimestoppers !!!!
Who woulda thunk that Sandwich Flats would make it to three years old ? Certainly not my dear friend Keith Moon, who predicted that my blog would sink like a "Lead Balloon". Thanks Keith, you jerk.
So I suppose at times like this, introspection is kind of natural, isn't it ? No ? Well too bad, as I plan to introspect my ass off, so there.
What have we learned, lo these three years here at old sandwichflatsdotblogspotdotcom ?
That I like lists.
That I like lyric and movie quote trivia
That I have very little shame(testicular ultrasound, anyone ?)
I watch a lotta tee vee.
I am addicted to ellipses...
I like telling people when I think something Rocks/Kicks Ass !!
That the few readers I have were very caring when my Dad passed away in November.
I have a lot of free time on my hands.
I believe I created the swear "hellfuck"
That I have Special Lady who must be the kindest, most patient person on the planet.
And twin daughters that I would die for.
I came clean on my steroid use.
That I am snubbed by People magazine, Pat O'Brien and The Catholic Church.
That I am phobic of Spiders and living dolls.
I am a big fan of alliteration
I could keep going, but that would just be cruel, wouldn't it ? But what have YOU learned here at the Flats ? Please feel free to share.
I want to thank those few folks that do read for reading, and I would like to give a special shout out to Feral Mom over at Gone Feral, as she was the first one who posed the question, "Why don't you have a blog ?" And the rest, is history...Long winded, pointless history.
Peace, Crimestoppers !!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)