Finding a decent NYC Cheesesteak is becoming my White Whale. Tried the well recommended Shorty’s – A failure of epic proportions. Now we go with 99 Miles To Philly. Granted, I might have been a greater moron than my mother/the world claims me to be and somehow, someway ordered it without cheese. Look how they make you order:
Why the hell do they even give me a chance to fuck myself? Unacceptable. If you’re a cheesesteak place than the cheese should be as automatic as the tribal shit that follows devouring a cheesesteak. If cigarettes take 6 minutes off your life per stick than cheesesteaks are supposed to cut 6 weeks. Minimum. Automatically load that bitch up with Whiz and call it an existence. Don’t even give me the option to be healthy.
PS – No, I haven’t been into the office today yet and, yes, I still have a job. I think. The amount of dried meat currently on Pres’s wall will dictate that status.
Still is more sanitary than Nate’s desk. And we’re talking at any given time, not just post-cheesesteak critique.