Okay, so I probably should have just gone to Wikipedia in the first place. I have found out what the “international” chicken sammiches were all about. You guys were right- the Italian was always there and always quite good. Also the French one- a chicken cordon bleu (which I do not recall ever having, just for the record. I’m not calling them a liar or anything, my memory may just be spotty. I was seven.) And finally, an American one. Why is the American ANYTHING always the blandest? It’s a chicken sandwich with American cheese! C’mon, why not with something with barbecue sauce? Americans LOVE barbecue sauce!
Did you know there was almost a fourth “international” sandwich? It was called the Hawaiian. And it was the American. With pineapple. And it was marketed only in New Zealand. What? Where to start, where to start. No. I’m too upset. And more than a little peckish.
Speaking of international affairs (as I so often do), did you read about the koala in Australia? The one whose head got caught in the grill of a car (by an “unwitting motorist,” even) and was dragged seven miles before another car flagged them down? The koala was fine! Here are my exact reactions while reading:
[“Lucky” hung on during his ordeal with one arm and his trapped head, and was freed with household scissors used like a fireman’s “jaws-of-life” to cut around the car’s mesh grill with the horrified owner’s permission] “Oh my God, Lucky! Are you okay?”
[While Lucky was in shock, he quickly recovered and was nearly better after a couple of hours rest and a feed. Lucky will stay at the hospital, set up by the late television wildlife crusader Steve “Crocodile Hunter” Irwin] “Isn’t that so wonderful! And, oh, Steve Irwin, you still do so much good…
[He’ll recover from his experience and receive treatment for a chlamydial infection.] “Uh, what? He’s got a what? From a car? Or was this prior to the car?”
I feel like some darned pivotal information has been kept from the public.
In local news, last night was the opening night of the Outdoor Film Festival in Grant Park. Hundreds of people watching “All About Eve” in the sweltering dusk! Medium thin-crust from Pizano’s on Monroe! Illegal flask for ginger beer and vodkas! I love summer. I do not, however, love the girls who were talking LOUDLY on the train about how much they’ve changed since middle school. (Can you believe it’s been five years? I can’t believe it’s been five years. It’s like I’m a different person. I know! I was just thinking about how we’re different people!) Maybe it was the fact that the hour was encroaching upon midnight, but I truly think that people should be banned from talking on the trains. Unless they have something really amazing to say.
Otherwise they should just blog.
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