My friend just accused me of having some sort of vicarious sandwich fetish.
HER: Every time someone even mentions a sandwich in a story you stop the conversation to ask them what kind of sandwich it was.
ME: No I don't! I mean, yeah sometimes, but not always.
HER: Yes! You do! Like that time I was telling you about the boy who broke up with me at the Quizno's where that bitch he was hooking up wi--
ME: Oh yeah! What kind of sandwich were you eating again?
HER: [Roll eyes] It was turkey and bacon with--
ME: [Rubbing palms] Ohhh yeahhhhh. Describe it slower...
HER: [Giving me the crook eye] T u r k e y a n d b a c o n...--
ME: [Creepy hands] Yeah yeah, that's the stuff. Now arch your back, and hold this jar of Kosciusko spicy mustard while you tell me about it reeeeeal slow like.
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