Sunday, September 26, 2010

Don't worry, sir, I'm an expert

On Friday afternoon, the Mister and the kids got off to a bit of a late start when leaving for camp. As such, they stopped for dinner along the way.

Atticus chose Subway.

"Eat fresh," he'll tell you. Which is fine by me when it comes to fast food. And although I'm sure there are still a trillion reasons why not to eat at Subway, I'm pretty sure--no, I'm damn positive, thanks to the Mister--that, unlike Happy Meals, their food does decompose. Especially when left in a minivan with rolled up windows on a hot summer day.

But I digress.

So on Friday evening, the Mister shuffles Atticus into Subway, where Atticus proceeds to order a Turkey Sub.

As in, turkey and a sub bun.

"Would you like cheese with that?" the Subgirl asks my boy. "Pepperjack, American or Provolone? How about American?"

"Uhhhhh," Atticus stammers.

Now, the Subgirl has no idea that Atticus is stammering because he has a psychotic mother who is born and bred Wisconsinite and a cheese Nazi who absolutely REFUSES to keep that Kraft sh*t in her home and who will rail for HOURS on end about how, along with black olives, it is the food of the devil.

If you are going to make a grilled cheese sandwich, for God's sake use Colby. Fresh Colby.

And if you are going to feed your kids cheese, use REAL cheese.

For the purposes of getting on with the story, that will be all I'm saying on Kraft opinion.

"Atticus, do you. . ." the Mister nervously began. Nervous because he was scared that his son would somehow morph into his wife and begin chewing out Subgirl.

AT this point in the conversation, Subgirl holds up her hand to Cliff and says:

"Excuse me, Sir. When I first came to America, I too did not know what American cheese meant. Let me help."

She turns to my son. "Do you know what Kraft Single Slices (she pronounces this Loudly and Slowly) are?"

* * * * * * *

Well, now, just guess how many times in the upcoming month, the Mister will turn to me and ask, "Do you know what Kraft Single Slices are?"

and

Just guess how many times in the upcoming month, I will turn to my Mr. OTB and say to him, "When I first came to America, I didn't know what that meant either."

Keeping the marriage fresh, thanks to our son and his desire to eat fresh at Subway.

9 comments:

Corey said...

You and the Mister have soooo many inside jokes, it's amazing you EVER need to go out.

xoxo

Joy said...

Oh my - having a chuckle here. Feel the same way about processed cheese (and only learned just last week that it had apparently been re-christened "American" cheese...a good reason to be glad I'm from Canada, I guess). :)

ania said...

So funny. Especially so since the poor Subgirl felt that she was helping out a fellow immigrant.

Essie the Accidental Mommy said...

Uh, what is the problem with black olives?


I LOVE black olives!

Amy said...

OMG! That would have been so funny if Atticus would have told her exactly what kraft single slices were. I don't keep that stuff in my house either. "Wow" is my only comment on the whole "coming to America" thing.
Amy

Mighty Isis said...

Good lord, this is a funny story!! Thanks for making me laugh :).

bbbunch said...

LOL!!! I really really really super bad needed that laugh tonight...thank you! SO funny! Did you just about DIE when you saw the big a$$ block of fake cheese slices that were purchased (from Sam's) to put on the burgers for our kids' birthday party??? I did. The stuff kind of scares me. IT WON'T MOLD. Yikes. Don't worry...I buy real cheese for the family. I just pull out the fake stuff when gobs of people come over ;)

Do explain the black olives though...

Sarah said...

There's nothing "wrong" with black olives in the manner that anything from McD's is wrong. I just abhor the smell, texture and taste of them. The thought of two things in this world will get me gagging every time: 1) drinking catsup and 2) black olives. Blech!

bbbunch said...

You are too funny!