I was feeling a little famished as 3 p.m. approached, so I figured this would be a good time to leave my cage, and grub-a-dub-dub.  So I jump in my whip, and head over to Spumoni’s (which is an Italian restaurant down the street.

I guess the Italians feel they are underappreciated, and they left.  They posted a really professional, hand-written sign saying, “Back at 4:30.”  Well, friends, I was not having that.

Luckily for me and my hunger, there’s a Subway in the same shopping center.  I stroll over to Subway, knowing that I’ll at least get my food relatively soon, and get on with my bad self.

So I get my five dollar footlong (I know now every time I read/hear that, their stupid fucking jingle pops in my stupid fucking American brain…FUCK YOU MARKETING AMERICA), and I proceed to chow down.

Then something dawned upon me.  “What’s this horrible noise that’s just slightly louder than the sound of me chewing?”  Seemed to be what some parts of the world call “music,” but I was certainly confused/skeptical.  It almost sounded like “fake” music.  Not quite elevator music, because elevator music has it’s place/role, and it does it well.  This was something else.  Almost seemed like they wanted to test you…see if you are actually paying attention while you are there, or if you are such a worker-bee, corporate drone, brain-dead American , that it would go completely unnoticed.

FUCK YOU, SUBWAY – I NOTICED!  It was some sort of fake, wannabe country, fluff-filled, cat scratches.  I tried to zone it out the best I could, which is very obviously what Subway wants/hopes/expects you to do, otherwise they wouldn’t force you to listen to it.

Drivel.  Drivel is the correct word for the noise coming out of the speakers at Subway, and into my beautiful left-and-right ears.