Dan has some weird obsession with Arby's which has only grown stronger since our marriage, probably because I despise it so much and we don't go there too often.  Don't get me wrong.  I actually don't mind some of their chicken sandwiches and the curly fries, too, sometimes, but I am of the opinion that the roast beef they use is probably fake.  It looks like melted plastic and doesn't taste much better.  Dan, however, thinks it is a superior meat which is his explanation of why it looks so different than actual deli sliced roast beef.  Also, he could substitute the Arby's sauce for a beverage because he loves it so much.  <shudder>

I'm not sure where his love of Arby's originated, but I think it has something to do with growing up in Hawaii where there was only one on the other side of the island, and to get there, Dan had to backpack over an active volcano and fight off the natives, so it was an extra special treat.  Or something like that.  I'm fuzzy on the details.

So I don't know if any of you who read this have seen that new Arby's commercial set to sexy music with the lady who dresses up as an Arby's worker and brings her husband a tray of sandwiches in bed for his birthday, but Dan and I saw it together for the first time a few weeks ago.  Of course Dan's immediate response was, "I know what I want for my birthday."

I replied, "Gross.  If I have to hold and smell a tray of Arby's sandwiches, then that will be all you're getting for your birthday."

"That's fine," he said without pause.

So apparently that's settled.  Except I think I'll move it up to Valentine's Day or our anniversary.  No sense in dragging out the inevitable.  I think it would be best if I didn't carry this sense of dread around for the next seven months.  Just suck it up and get it over with, I guess.  Now I just need to find an Arby's uniform big enough to fit over my belly.