The End? MY End!

OMG, Minga is SUCH a drama queen. It wasn't "the end". It was just that none of us had anything interesting to say for the time being.

I can't really say that I have anything interesting to say now. OK, so I've repelled a few times since my last post. Let's just say that the men of the Benelux region haven't been kind to me. This year, I've repelled the "Be" and the "Lux". Now, I just need to repel the "Ne", and then I'll have completed my collection. Oh yeah, and I also repelled a Pole. It's like the Small World of Repelling.

Where, you may ask, do I find the strength to deal with my lot (apart from knowing that Minga's lot is worse than mine)? One answer is music. Particularly music that basically no one else likes (or would admit to liking). For "I'm like a Brand New Bitch" (in French, "Je suis comme une Toute Nouvelle Pétasse"). Love you, Anjulie!

The End

Well Sandwich lovers, we all knew this was coming, given the last post was in MAY.  Jesus.  We're on hiatus.  The Sandwich will be going into hibernation.  Weep now and weep aplenty.

Laters.

Funniest Sandwich GIF's

Since Minga found what she believes is the greatest find since that Womble suit she found in the destitute drama room of her high school (and which she later wore to much pride in front of the lad she fancied and consequently experienced an epic repel from), she had to ask Gladys what they were called.  Apparently the kids these days call them GIF's.  Because she is too sore mentally, she cannot think of something witty and vaguely interesting to blog today so it will have to be a list of Sandwich Top GIF's.  As found by Minga.  Loser extraordinaire.

Classic Penguin Slap

George Bush Dance

Pug Licking Screen

Carlton Dance!

Smithers Lapdance

And the best...

Dawson Crying

Dawson Calling You

Dawson "So my marriage/mortgage/route to work is really fascinating..."

Clearly the Van Der Beekster is an internet sensation (and Minga's new favourite Pacey).  He has many more fabulous GIF's here.  

What We Will Not Miss From the 1990's

For some reason Ginga and Minga decided to spend a delightfully stormy Saturday night cooped up in some giant house in Birkenhead (Tornado central apparently).  And for some reason we began talking about the 90's.  This is the beginning of the conversation:

Int. Fabulous large house in Tornado-land - Night

Ginga relaxes on a chaise longue eating grapes whilst Minga perches on a rabbit-haired hammock reading 'Eat, Love, Pray'.  Ginga begins to discuss the 1990's.  For no reason.  She declares that peachy soft focus lighting in movies was a typical feature of 90's cinema.
 
Ginga: Maybe the 90's in general was embalmed in this fuzzy peachy glow.  In fact didn't the Body Shop have the fuzzy peach lip balm?
Minga: Oh my God, The Body Shop was proper 90's!
Ginga: Fuzzy peach, fuzzy peach lip balm
Minga: Yeah I get it
Ginga: It was like a status symbol.  There was this girl at school who had various types of peach lip balm and I was extremely jealous.
Minga: I've stopped listening
Ginga: She had 10 different types of lip balm!
Minga: zzzzz
Ginga: I mean why on earth would you want that many variations of the same lip balm?
Minga: (Leaves to make some cookies and herbal hash)
Ginga: Joanna D! That was it! It was Joanna D!  Why did she have so many different types of lip balm?!

And so begins our extensive (though not limited) list of what we remember about that glorious decade and what we never want to see again:

Boybands
As much as it hurts Minga to admit it, there is no more room for floppy haired, synchronised gyrating man-boys dressed in ghastly apparitions by Tommy Hilfiger, singing about bullshit love and loss.

Old brick phones

Alamak chat Oh internet, how you've changed.

Fake hair
Whole shopping malls had areas dedicated to faux hair on a scrunchie.
Minga: Did they have fake Ginga hair?
Ginga: Um, no because nobody wanted to be Ginga in the 90's.  Ginga only became cool in 2003.
Minga: How salacious!
Ginga: Or did Ginga become cool once Ginga Spice came about?
Minga: That's a contradictory sentence.

Chokers
Especially the tattoo kind

The beginning of metallics, white pants, midriffs and FM boots aka Britney's entire wardrobe

Drinks like Midori, RTD's and Sambuca flaming shots - oh how rad!

Jennifer Lopez before she miracously realised she was from the block.

Armband tattoos, Chinese symbol tattoos and bellypiercings - not that we had any.

Titanic the film.  For more ranting and hate go here.

Goths before Emo's

Models being Super

Surfer labels like Rip Curl and Billabong being the couture du jour for white, middle-class, obsessively boring-bound-to-end-up-married-by-age-25-with-three-kids-and-a-mortgage types.

Raves (Minga and Ginga have particularly fond memories of sneaking out of them and gulping down pure cheap vodka to become even more awesome)

The beginnings of the peudo-lesbian movement

Homie-G's (RIP Nate Dogg, may you chill and 'lax with Tupac and Biggie in the big crib in da sky - in fact the word 'da' is very 90's).

Jennifer Love Hewitt (and her astoundingly horrific music) and most bland TV turned film actors with three names as names, we're looking at you Jonathon Taylor Thomas, Chad Michael Murray (extra points for having Murray in the list), Freddie Prinze Jnr, Seann William Scott, Sarah Michelle Geller...

Speaking of Geller, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (The Twilight of last Century).

There you have it.  Next time, the 00's....if we can be bothered.

Willis! Osama! Breaking Sandwich News! Exclamation Marks!

So apparently this week was full of breaking world news!  Our high class BFF, Willis got married in front of 2 billion people (awkward) and certain media felt it imminent to spend many broadcast hours discussing what the biscuit tins would look like and what type of nightmares the bride to be would be having (apart from the obvious - 'oh my God we're probably cousins').
But alas we cannot diss the Prince, mainly because he once did cleverly diss Minga in a nightclub in London.  Point: Willis.  But Minga did snatch a quick cheek kiss and grope.  Point: Minga.  Before being 'escorted' away by his bodyguards decked in fabulous grey knits.  Point: Her Majesty's Service.

The other big news of course has been that that bearded cousin of Minga's, Uncle Osama,  has been killed and his body buried at sea.  Odd choice for a dude who mainly lived in a cave but apparently the world (i.e frat kids in the US) are going nuts.  A naive part of us thinks this is great but the realist side (i.e boring side) believes that this will cause some badass retaliation from Uncle's supporters causing what the US and allies would consider justification to invade yet another part of the world that loves deserts and extreme facial hair.  Hmmm....oh world, when will you learn??

But forget all that.  The biggest news to hit Sandwich HQ (and consequently all of humanity, for we like to think in hyperboles) is that Minga found this:

Her life is now complete.

Haiku for Eat, Pray, Love

Haiku for Eat, Pray, Vomit:

Dear James Franco (again)
You owe me two hours of 

your life.  I'm waiting.

In fact screw the haiku, we need to have words Franco. 

First you make us go through the excruciating pile of un-digested bile and regurgitated trollop that was Nights in Rodanthe, which even you despised since you took your name out of the credits.  

Then you force that hideous big mouthed monster Hathaway (dressed in various montages of putrid glitter and sequins) upon us at the ludicrously over-hyped nightmare that is the Oscars.

And now this.  On DVD, in the comfort of our own homes, we had to watch this horror and shameful excuse for a film.  Watching Roberts roam around Rome telling people that guys will shag anything, even girls with muffin tops is not enlightening. 

And where were you?  Reduced to some secondary, passive,  man-child character who mumbles on the phone and tries to meditate because he's cool, edgy and New York like that.  Then after 20 minutes, you disappeared.

So I repeat, you owe me.  Big time.  Perhaps a sequel to Howl?  Howl 2: The Return of Super Ginsberg?  Or a dinner, massage and acid trip so that we can see James Dean come out of my wall and spark up (true story). 

I guess this is a start,  

Kind Regards,

Minga

Acting With James Franco Episode 1: "Sense Memory" from James Franco

Repel of the Century: Muhammad Hosni Sayyid Mubarak

Here at Sandwich we pride ourselves on providing humanity with the inevitable: repels.  In fact, we wrote the book on repelling (not literally we're too busy drinking vodka, smoking opium and hating on others to do so).  Repelling is an ancient art form, a cultural legacy for some and it is what makes us great.  After all, to err is human, to repel is divine.  So it is fitting to devote our repel of the week to the recent EX-president of Egypt, Muhammad Hosni Sayyid Mubarak.

This guy (I'd just like to point out that Blogger has decided to go militant on italics and won't let me change it, I may start hyperventilating).  Anyway Mubarak put the EP in REPEL!  He repelled a whole nation, his OWN nation, his own people and not only that, but people are actually celebrating his epic repel, WORLDWIDE!


So here at Sandwich we salute you Sir, you have indeed set the bar now.  Repel of the Century and here's hoping more will follow...we're looking at you buddy....

Haiku for 127 Hours

James Franco, why did

You not take a damn phone? Dude

You are hot but dumb.

sigh.

A Sonnet for All the Men I've Loved Before

To all the men I've loved before

Why did you leave me?

We were happy, delightful and so full of zest

You were drinking cognac

I was spilling it on my jeans

Together we were divine

You were getting high

I was swatting flies

Together we were invincible

You were sneaking a naughty smoke

I was leering a dirty look

Together we made art

Together we were someone, something and somewhere magnificent

Alone I am lost, alone and not at all bitter

Alone you are not, because that bitch of a wench you left me for still exists.

So again I cry

To all the men I've loved before

Where did you go?

South East Asia apparently.

Fuckers.

Fin.

Happy Fucking Christmas

In the spirit of Christmas, this post will be quick, to the point and full of tinsel.

'Tis the time to be festive and 'tis the time where repelling is at its highest.  In fact Minga got stood up the other day...by a girl...at the carpark of a dodgy backpackers, alone with her thoughts, in the rain, attempting to light up with some godforesaken matches that did not embrace the windy and horrid weather that came about.

So let it be that this festive season, we at Sandwich would like to do a Kanye West.  We would like to blame everyone else in the Universe for being fucking cruel, for being fucking muppets and for not embracing our magnificence as they should.  It's your fault Universe.  Fuck you. 

Merry Christmas to all you other fuckers who have too been fucked mercilessly by the big, bad, world.