The Scene: Standing in my kitchen getting ready to make sandwiches for dinner. I'm next to the toaster making myself a bagel while Bob puts the finishing touches on his sandwich. Bob finishes and begins to eat, walking away.

Me: Well, it's great to see that I can buy you stuff for dinner, and you don't even bother making me a sandwich after you finish yours. Thanks.

Bob: You're picky about your sandwiches. And you like gross stuff on them.

Me: Mayonnaise is not gross. You're like an alien or something. Everyone likes mayo!

Bob has no retort. Obviously I'm right, and he is an alien.

Bob: Fine, I'll make you a sandwich.

Me: *smiling* Thank you!

I go to stand next to the counter to carefully observe the making of the sandwich as I munch on my bagel. My scrutiny proves warranted as Bob begins to put the mayonnaise onto the bun.

Me: What are you doing??? Just because you don't like mayonnaise doesn't mean everyone else is weird, too! I can barely even see the mayo on that bread! Good lord!

Bob: Not enough? How much do you like mayo?

Bob gives me a wicked grin, then dumps an enormous amount of mayonnaise onto the helpless bread.

Me: BOB! MY GOD!

Bob: *innocently* Too much?

Me: YES!

Bob: It's okay. I'll just use the extra on the other half of the bread.

Bob continues spreading the mayonnaise.

Me: You're getting mayonnaise around the edge of the bread. Where were you raised, that you were taught to make sandwiches like a barbarian??

Bob: You're the one who eats nasty mayonnaise.

Me: Just give me the knife! I'll make my own sandwich!

Bob: Like hell! I'm finishing this damn sandwich!

Me: But you do it all wrong! It'll go faster if I just do it!

Bob: I'm finishing the damn sandwich!

Bob carefully smooths the mayonnaise on the bread so it's perfectly level, then with exaggerated care makes sure he scrapes all the mayo off the side of the bun. He keeps giving me pointed, sarcastic looks. Finally he presents the mayonnaised bread to me as if it's a work of art.

Bob: Is that acceptable?

Me: *cheerfully* Looks good! Now, the barbecue sauce. You have to be careful when you put the barbecue sauce on. Just a couple dollops should be good. Otherwise it's too much.

Bob: *rolls eyes* Barbecue sauce?

Bob carefully squeezes barbecue sauce onto the bread.

Me: Stop! Stop! That's enough! Too much!

Bob: Calm down, I'll just put the excess on the other side of the bread.

Me: Just let me do it!

Bob: No, I'm finishing it!

Bob carefully spreads the barbecue sauce over the bread.

Bob: How's that?

Me: *examines the bread* Not enough. Put a little more on. But just a little!

Bob: I thought you said it was too much!

Me: It was, but then you spread it over both sides of the bread, and now it's not enough.

Bob drops a little bit more barbecue sauce onto both sides of the bun and carefully spreads it around.

Bob: Happy now?

Me: Yep! Time for the cheese! I want one slice of cheddar, and one slice of swiss, but I don't want that nasty swiss you used on your sandwich, which I told you not to eat, I want the Tillamook swiss that I just bought.

Without comment Bob carefully places a slice of cheddar onto the left side of the bread, then goes to put the slice of swiss onto the right side of the bread.

Me: WAIT!

Bob: WHAT?!

Me: Don't put them on opposite sides of the bread!! Put them both on one side of the bread! I don't like the meat sandwiched between the cheese!

Bob just stares at me.

Me: What?

Bob carefully positions the slice of swiss cheese on top of the slice of cheddar cheese, and looks at me for further guidance.

Me: Good job! Now, meat!

Bob opens up the container of thinly sliced turkey. It is scrunched together and difficult to separate.

Me: I want the turkey laid flat on the bread, not like the big lump you put on yours.

Bob: *sarcastically* Why don't I take each individual slice, roll it up into a tube, put that on the sandwich, and repeat that until you have enough meat?

Me: No, I want it laid flat.

Bob: Oh, my God.

Bob carefully makes sure that all my meat is relatively flat on the bread. I notice some errors, but since I can sense that Bob might be getting a little frustrated with this sandwich making process, I decide not to mention it.

Bob: Is that enough?

Me: One more slice should do it.

Bob picks up several more turkey slices.

Me: Just one!

Bob carefully chooses one slice and slaps it down on the sandwich.

Me: Hey now, respect the sandwich!

Bob: *laughing* I just don't believe this. Is it finished?

Me: Just put the two halves together!

Bob puts the two halves together and hands me the finished product.

Bob: This better be the best goddamn sandwich you've ever eaten.