Look at this fucking scanwich.

Look at all of the fucking scanwiches! They're fucking sideways, on a scanner! Fuck!

Look at this fucking breakfast sandwich

Look at this motherfucking breakfast sandwich. It's fucking amazing. Perfectly cooked hashbrowns, perfectly scrambled eggs, and fucking amazing melted cheese topped with like a hundred fucking pieces of bacon. All on crispy toast.

The Infamous Double Down

My dear Sammich-y dahlings:

Have you, by chance, been following the KFC Double Down kerfuffle?

Chime in here, if you will: would YOU eat that?

ZOMG LOOK AT THIS CROQUE-MONSIEUR.

Just fucking LOOK AT IT.

This was lunchtime today at the awesome new French cafe (http://www.passioncafe.net/) that recently opened on 6th St., complete with gardenia-trellis'd sunny rooftop patio.

Covered in my own personal drug of choice, slightly burnt cheese, this slice o' heaven was EVEN BETTER when cold and leftover. Unbelievable.

(And Passion Cafe has a happy hour: let's go!)

First announcement: I have syndicated Look At This Fucking Sandwich as a Live Journal feed at http://syndicated.livejournal.com/fuckingsandwich/. Now you can keep up on all your fucking sandwich news on your LJ friends page.

Second: fans of Look at This Fucking Sandwich should also enjoy Selleck Waterfall Sandwich, a blog which features, unsurprisingly, pictures of Tom Selleck in front of waterfalls with giant sandwiches. I mean, just look at this fucking sandwich:



So you should totally go and look at those fucking sandwiches, because, I mean, those are some fucking amazing sandwiches. Also: Tom Selleck's mustache. There should be a blog called "Look At This Fucking Mustache."

Belated Thanksgiving Leftover Sandwich

This post is a bit late, but it still deserves admiration. This sandwich may not look like anything special, but trust me, this sandwich was fucking epic. Let me set the stage for you. Day after Thanksgiving. Plate full of other Thanksgiving leftovers. And then, The Sandwich. Fucking ingredients: roast beef, horseradish mustard, cranberry sauce, butter, all on fresh, lightly toasted San Francisco sourdough bread. That my friends, is one fucking sandwich.

Late-night fucking sandwich

In the beautiful tradition that began this fucking blog, we came home drunk and were starving. To death. I am totally serious.

So we decided to make some fucking toast, because toast is fucking great when you're drunk and starving.

Except that we did not count on getting hijacked by a chef. Not just any chef, a fucking one-armed ninja chef. And suddenly instead of toast, we had open-faced lamb, spinach, and cheddar sandwiches with green goddess dressing.

LOOK. AT THIS. FUCKING. SANDWICH.

I almost forgot to take a picture, it was so fucking good.