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Thursday, September 16th, 2010

Dear Wasabi Sandwich Sauce

I took a chance on you, Wasabi Sandwich Sauce, the other day while shopping at Safeway...

You were just sitting there, laying on your side at the deli counter. So nonchalant. You weren't trying to impress anyone. At least, that's how I remember it. So casual, almost coy. Did you even notice me? To this day, I don't know.

What I do know is this: my life has changed.

I'm serious. Forever altered. Wasabi Sandwich Sauce, you have permanently re-ordered my condiment happiness hierarchy. I can't tell up from down anymore, or right from wrong.

Before I met you, Wasabi Sandwich Sauce, when I needed that *extra something* on a meal, I'd grab one of my old stand-bys:

Cholula -- That crazy redhead who kicked her shoes off the first time she walked through my front door and started dancing around my house. And before I knew it, I was dancing too... Where's that music coming from? I don't know. Why am I standing here in my underwear? I don't care -- just keep dancing baby.

or...

Heinz 57 -- My brooding, sulking brunette with the sharp tongue... She'd always leave at 3AM, a gorgeous, disheveled, unbuttoned mess, feigning a headache or an early work day the next morning. We both knew she wasn't telling the truth. I'd stare at the ceiling and wonder if I should have treated her better... wonder who was playing who... wonder what the source of her dark magic really was. So complex. Her victimhood had such power.

or my all-time favorite... (or so I thought)

A1 -- The raven haired dominatrix. I knew who was in charge... Always. I did as I was told. And I liked it. I towed the line by God. But still, she was never happy. She'd crack her salty whip and all I could get out of my dry, parched mouth was a meak whisper: "More please". Strident. Difficult. Unmerciful. She told me she never wanted to meet my family. To hurt me, I think.

But you, Wasabi Sandwich Sauce... you're something altogether different. Aren't you?

Look. I know this is still early. And I don't want to rush anything, or freak you out, or make you uncomfortable. I mean... It just isn't normal for me -- these feelings. But I can really see a future for us. A small house -- nothing too crazy -- up in the hills maybe. We could garden. I could write while you paint. We'd sleep in a lot. And then, eventually, maybe there'd be a couple of kids running around. She'd have your hair. He'd have my eyes. Weekends at the lake...

No. You're right. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's just take this thing slow. I mean, life is long and we have a lot of territory to explore. No, I'm fine. I'm not crying. It's just you have a way of making we well up, Wasabi Sandwich Sauce. No. They're tears of happiness. I promise.

C'mere. A little closer.

Posted By John Common at: 8:09 pm 7 Comments

colorado_music

October 23rd, 2010 10:52 am

You are so freakin' funny. Just on fire. I never know when you are going to top yourself. This was freakin' funny as all get out.

Greg

September 17th, 2010 2:25 pm

My condi(com)ments will all pale against your brilliant mini-tome (and perhaps mini isn't appropriate, since this could possibly be the most anyone has ever written on sauce-love), but all the same, bra...vo.

Greg

September 17th, 2010 1:46 pm

Ruth Common

September 17th, 2010 6:47 am

Where does this come from?

Adrienne

September 16th, 2010 10:20 pm

Oh lord. You really are something special.

Summer

September 16th, 2010 10:10 pm

Oh my God you are nuts!
:o

Nikki

September 16th, 2010 9:54 pm

You are hilarious and have a way of making sauce... quite saucy!! Love it when you blog, even more I love you playing! Special blogger only video?? Push push, beg beg... Bribery with Wasabi? :) xo

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Thursday, September 16th, 2010

Dear Wasabi Sandwich Sauce

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