I Absolutely Despise Mr. 300 Sandwiches

At Home with Stephanie Smith author of Blog 300 Sandwiches and

NYPost:  Allow me to introduce myself: I am Mr. 300 Sandwiches, the man behind the woman who started a blog wherein she makes — you guessed it — 300 sandwiches for me with the promise of an engagement ring at the end.

No problem, right? There’s nothing wrong with two people doing nice things for each other.

The blog, 300sandwiches, went viral when my girlfriend Stephanie, a reporter for Page Six, wrote an article about it in The Post back in September. Suddenly, everyone and their brother was weighing in, and there was fallout.

I was dubbed “the Internet’s worst boyfriend” (which is kind of growing on me) and called a “sandwich whore” (guilty as charged).

As always, there’s more to the story than meets the eye.

I tend to cook most of the meals in our household, demanding nothing of Stephanie except good conversation at the end of the day. I’ll stand at the cutting board while she sits on a bar stool in our apartment, both of us with wine glasses in hand, laughing as she talks about which socialite has gotten angry at Page Six, or which insect most accurately describes a certain PR rep.

Every couple has inside jokes, and ours consisted of three measures of 1950s traditional gender roles; one measure of “Borat”; half a measure of saccharine, shaken vigorously, served in a highball with a Krazy Straw — because, why not?

“Baby, how about you make me a sandwich tonight?” I’d say.

She would normally roll her eyes and laugh as I went on making the meal.

One day she responded to my joke with one herself: She made me that sandwich. Thus began a chain reaction of one-upmanship to an eventual climax where I uttered those fateful words: “Baby, you’re just 300 sandwiches away from an engagement ring!”

There is nothing that puts a bee in my bonnet more than a couple who think anyone besides them gives a shit about the inner workings of their relationship.  Like this chick and her “boy”friend joke about out of date gender roles.  Cool, do that, sounds like fun for you two.  But of course, they had to share it with the world, because nothing is worth doing unless you can get some publicity out of it.  So Stephanie decides to write a blog about how she’s going to make her “boy”friend 300 sandwiches before he proposes.  Oh and did that put the internet in a tizzy!  Well, for maybe about a week.  But thankfully we had all forgotten about this nauseating couple, which was obviously not sitting well with “Mr. 300 Sandwiches” (I won’t even get into how maddening it is that he refers to himself that way) and he just had to write a follow-up.  So he decided to share his feelings about the reaction to Stephanie’s blog and how he’s “guilty as charged” being a sandwich whore.  Tee-fucking-hee!  Aren’t they just the cutest zaniest couple you ever did read about and then want to cave in their faces?  The rest of his article builds an ironclad case that these might be the most insufferable people on earth.

I’ll stand at the cutting board while she sits on a bar stool in our apartment, both of us with wine glasses in hand (that shouldn’t matter but to this guy it totally mattered), laughing as she talks about which socialite has gotten angry at Page Six, or which insect most accurately describes a certain PR rep.

Oh my god that is SO cosmopolitan of you!! Wine and dishing about socialites?  Comparing PR reps to bugs?  Just stop I’m starting to bleed from my eyeballs.  That wasn’t the worst part of it though…

Every couple has inside jokes, and ours consisted of three measures of 1950s traditional gender roles; one measure of “Borat”; half a measure of saccharine, shaken vigorously, served in a highball with a Krazy Straw — because, why not?

Comparing your style of inside jokes to a fucking cocktail recipe should be grounds for execution – because, why not?  I hope you and your girlfriend come down with three measures of 1950s social acceptance of interracial couples; one measure of “oops I’m gay”; half a measure of saccharine (because I actually think that would be good in a drink), ridiculed mercilessly and served in the gutter with a dirty hypodermic needle.  Or, just keep your fucking “who gives a shit” life to yourselves and we won’t have to vomit on our keyboards.

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One Response to “I Absolutely Despise Mr. 300 Sandwiches”

  1. Jerry Says:

    Don’t know how I stumbled onto this article … (random clicking around the interweb is fun), and I really don’t give a crap about Mr. 300 Sandwiches lifestyle, real or imagined, but the energy it creates for the reviewer made me smile. I enjoy irreverent people not afraid to share their take on stuff like this.

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