I Should Have Played Pokémon Go Instead

I wanted to join in on this Pokémon craze, so I got out my iPhone, the iPhone6, and searched for the app. But then my eyes lit up when I noticed this new game. This one appeared to be the greatest game ever created by mankind.  I then enthusiastically downloaded Sammichmon Go! and couldn’t wait to start playing.

In Sammichmon Go, a specific type of sammich appears on the screen. You then go to various locations around the city collecting the ingredients for this particular sammich. You score points for getting each ingredient, but then you must locate a “sammich-making spot” where someone will make you that sammich. You score mega-points for the finished sammich and then of course, you get to eat it.  The motto for this game is “Gotta eat them all”.  I love this game!

My first sammich was a basic turkey on rye.  I raced around and collected everything and then located the sammich-making spot. I burst through the doors and exclaimed “Make me a sammich!” just as my screen instructed.

I did notice the sign outside the room that said “AAF”. I assumed it had something to do with the American Air Force.  Regretfully, it stood for American Association of Feminists and these women were not inclined to make me my sammich. In fact, they became rather agitated at the request.  Fortunately, even though they were feminists, they still hit like girls.  Unfortunately, they didn’t throw like girls.  As I made my escape, they pelted me with all the stuff.  Sadly, I did not collect my mega-points on this one.

But then suddenly a delicious cheeseburger appeared on the screen.  I gathered everything and ran into the next sammich-making spot yelling “Cheeburga, cheeburga, cheeburga”, in my best John Belushi voice, just as it said on the screen. I thought that a Hindu temple was a strange place to do this, but I needed the points and getting lots of points playing this game is extremely important, right?

The Hindus didn’t react any better than the feminists, but they did hit harder, which I didn’t think Hindus were supposed to do. I ran out of there with no cheeburga, no chips and no bonus points.

This game was much more difficult than I ever imagined, as I failed with the veal cutlet sammich at the PETA office, the BLT at the Muslim hall and the ham sammich at the Jewish Center. I also failed to achieve a foot-long at the strip club. Although two of the ladies were eager to make me a sandwich without using any of stuff I brought. They claimed they would be the bread, if I tipped them well.

Since I was failing miserably at the sammich portion of the game, I decided to try to score points my acquiring, nookagoochi, a tangy sandwich spread, that when added to your sammich, earns you triple, yes I said triple, bonus points!  You get so many points for this because the game says “good nookagoochi is hard to find!” The spread comes in three flavors: Sweet, Spicy, and Hot.

The game app directed me to the local health club and indicated some nookagoochi was in the women’s locker room.  Normally I wouldn’t have gone in, but I think Obama said it was now okay, so I channeled my inner Caitlyn Jenner and confidently marched through the door. I startled a woman who looked like a Ronda Rousey wannabe. She asked me what I was doing and I answered “I’m looking for some sweet nookagoochi!”  She then threatening to do something to me that would allow me to use the women’s facilities on a permanent basis.  I was fairly certain that she did not hit like a girl, so I quickly ran to the lobby.

Unfortunately, the club manager had summoned the cops.  I explained to the policewoman that I was just playing Sammichmon Go. She was very understanding and released me with just a warning. Everything would have been fine except that when I walked outside my phone started buzzing and the screen indicated there was a large jar of nookagoochi only a few feet away!

“Officer, can you give me some of that hot nookagoochi in the back seat of your squad car?” I asked enthusiastically.  After a phone call to my attorneys, Duckem, Buckham and Fucarelli, and paying a fine, I was back in search of tangy nookagoochi.

The game app then sent me to the local convent and instructed me to ask, “Sisters, who here wants to give me some spicy nookagoochi?  The nuns explained that I must be mistaken, because there was no nookagoochi there.  They said they would pray for me. Well, prayers are nice, sisters, but they don’t score me any points, do they?  I need points, lots of points, because ah, um, well, I just do.

I also struck out at the gay bar. Okay, let me rephrase that. The app was wrong again, no nookagoochi in the whole place!

I was about to quit my search when my phone started buzzing again directing to a young woman on the corner who was obviously dressed for the summer heat.  She said should would be glad to provide some sweet nookagoochi, but I would have to pay for it.  I told her I thought she should give it to me for free. An argument ensued, and unfortunately that same policewoman appeared to restore order.

Now I’m sitting in jail and my attorney is not returning my calls.  I am strongly considering deleting the Sammichmon Go app from my phone.  I was trying to play this game, but I think the game may have been playing me instead.

Please buy my new humor book - Just Make Me A Sammich http://donake.net/just-make-me-a-sammich-book

  

The Sammich Debate Rages On

My book, Just Make Me A Sammich, is not even out yet (release date November 3) and already the title is creating controversy and renewing the debate over the woman/man sandwich making decision. I choose this title because Sammich-making is a running joke throughout my blog and my book is a collection of my favorite blog posts.

I wrote a post earlier this year on this topic which was supposed to end all conflict on the matter.  I said if men would be more polite in their request and women would be more accommodating when their man was hungry (or hangry – anger caused by hunger), then the result would be more sex. Very hot “sammich sex”. That post could even be considered good “sex therapy”. (They call me Dr. Love, they call me Dr. Love).  But now unfortunately, all that good work is gone and the controversy is back.

Recently I made a presentation at a conference for work. I briefly mentioned my book at the end.  Of course the next day no one remembered anything I said in my presentation, they were all talking about “that sammich book”. I sat with a group of customers at lunch. We were supposed to be talking about very important factors in the trucking industry, but of course as soon as I arrived, the topic turned to sammiches.

One woman at the table chimed in, “I believe a husband should treat his wife so well, that he should not even have to ask her for a sandwich. She should want to make him sandwiches.” This confirms my contention that this sammich-making stuff is very important to women.

The guys at the table quickly became mute and looked to me for a response.  I had none. I politely nodded in agreement because this woman is totally correct, men should treat their wives better. But unfortunately, guys are not going to do that because it takes time, effort and skill. And let’s face it, that’s just too much work. Men are just too lazy, and besides, an effort like that takes time away from more important things such as watching football and playing golf.  Of course we got the skills, we just choose not to use them.

But the sammich-making stuff is important to guys also.  I was at a party and Steve was bragging about his new, smokin’ hot girlfriend, who would be arriving soon.  When she got there, I was confused because she looked like a “plain-Jane” to me.  I pulled aside Steve’s friend Tony and asked for an explanation.

“Oh yeah, she’s hot. All the guys want her, she’s a real “sammich-maker”, Tony explained.

“What? I heard of baby-makers, but a sammich-maker?”, I asked.

“Oh yeah, she works at Subway and the woman is an expert sandwich maker.  

She knows how to use “all the toppings” if you get my drift”, he said.

Then I get home and turn on the television and I see Dr. Phil saying:

“On today’s show, we try to help this couple deal with a disagreement over the sammich-making responsibilities in their marriage.  Paul manages a real estate office. When he comes home at night, he’s hungry and wants his wife to make him a sammich, but his wife Sabrina, a real estate agent in that office, says she’s the one that works hard to sell the houses, and Paul can make his own d@#n sammich.”

Paul: She’s my wife. It’s her duty to make the sammiches!

From the more liberated side of the audience: Boo, boo, hiss, hiss, pig – rabble, rabble, rabble.

Sabrina: You sit on your fat a$$ all day, while I do all the work. You should be able to at least make your own sandwich.

Dr. Phil: Sabrina, what are you usually doing when Paul gets home and wants his food?

Sabrina: I’m doing important stuff like watching “Real Housewives of New Jersey”

Less liberated side of the audience: Boo, boo, hiss, hiss, slacker, rabble rabble, rabble.

Dr. Phil: Oh $h!+!  Ladies! Ladies! Stop the fighting! Put the chairs down now! You are not on Jerry Springer!  Don Ake you are an idiot, you stupid sunavabitch. Look at what you have started.

I think I need to reiterate that sammich-making is a personal decision that couples need to decide on and what happens between the sheets, the sheets of bread of course, should remain private and not be discussed publicly. Of course I know men and women will discuss the intimate details with their closest friends.

Jack: Carol made me a sammich last night that was mind-blowingly good. 

Man, it was so awesome and she used only natural, organic, ingredients.  And get this, we didn’t use any condiments!

Bill: No condiments! Are you kidding me? Nothing between the meat and …...

Jack: Oh yeah, it was a totally organic experience.

And then on the other side…...

Sue: I made Rick a sandwich on Tuesday.  He was extremely hangry, so I tried to help him out. 

Becky: You actually made his sandwich for him? Do you think it was worth it? How do you feel about all this?

Sue: Yes, I ended up with mayonnaise all over my face, but it was worth it to me to please Rick in that manner.

Becky: Ewww, I hate the taste of that stuff.

Sammich - star of the front cover!

Ironically I was inadvertently drawn into the controversy because I literally had to ask my wife to make me a sammich to be used in the photo shoot for the cover of my book.  She did this for artistic reasons and did a fantastic job (see photo).  The Sammich became the star of the photo shoot instead of me, which of course made me very jealous.

So again, the book is not about sammiches.  It’s about the absurdities in relationships, life, work, celebrities, sports, and other things that I find amusing. It will be here in just two weeks!  

Buy the book now: Just Make Me A Sammich