Before YPS!! became incorporated and an official force to be reckoned with, we were humble bastards with a dream to expose suck-ass packaging and maybe glare at chicks with the suave sophistication of Lurch of the Addams Family (original TV show and not that cinematic bullshit). We liked to keep it real back then. Now that we're scourges of the Earth, all bets are off.
Let us now step back to the vast wasteland and waistband that was the 1990s AD.
The YPS!! staff was on the prowl for a fine eatery and since none were to be found in this one-horse town, we opted for Subway. This was before Jarrod became their sandwich pimp. The good ol' days, if you will. Maybe even the golden years. Maybe.
I'm sure our agenda was filled to the brim and beyond, because rather than bless their establishment with our puritanical presence, we opted for the drive-thru window because we were on the go, go, go. Why "through" becomes "thru" when used in the context of a service window for lazy asses who refuse to get out of their ride yet want to purchase foodstuffs is anyone's guess. In other words, I steered the vehicle into the speaker-laden service window for lazy asses such as ourselves and proceded to give them my order.
Everything was kosher and on the level when I placed my order for a six inch or footlong (I can't remember and they say that size doesn't matter anyway) Spicy Italian. However, the train got derailed when the unsuspecting Subway employee rocking the mic asked me what I wanted on my Spicy Italian. The troublemaking rat bastard riding shotgun uttered a semi-quiet "Speedos."
At that point, I was convulsing with laughter and the poor Subway person was oblivious to the insane jocularity going on in the YPS!!mobile. Not knowing that I was laughing my ass off and gasping for oxygen, the voice over the speaker tried in vain to coax me to finish my order so they could work their sandwich artistry. It was a lost cause. Had we not been lazy asses, it would have been easier to actually go into their sandwich palace to order the shit, because even without free-flowing oxygen to the brain and the ability to speak coherently, I could have at least pointed at the toppings of my desire, which ironicially did not include Speedos or cheese.
As we approached the window-shaped portal where this food for money transaction would take place, I'm relatively sure that the sandwich artist was convinced we'd just escaped from the state hospital and we were seeking the fine eats that only Subway can offer. Regardless, they did seem a tad nervous when we said hello with our US minted currency. It all makes sense, because even in their youth, the YPS!! gang was a dangerous gang of desperadoes. Some things in life never change.
To this day, I always get a tad apprehensive ordering cuisine over a microphone with a certifiable rat bastard riding shotgun. "Always trot your lazy ass inside the establishment" lacks the punch and clarity of "Always use the stall," but it's not such a bad idea.
And I will add that a Spicy Italian sandwich clad in Speedos is a prime example of packaging that sucks!!
