Why I Hate Subway
I woke up in the middle of the night in my dimly illuminated room and uncontrollably started to spew everything I had eaten the day before. I looked at the projection of my clock on the wall to see it was four in the morning. I got out of bed, sat in my chair, and read until my mother was awake. The cause of my hatred towards subway was in three phases: My meal at subway, The misery given to me, to finding out what caused it. So it was approximately two in the afternoon and I was sitting in the passenger seat of my mom’s black-cherry colored Honda truck. We had decided to get something to eat at a subway we saw on the way home. The building had a very warm and inviting atmosphere with tiled flooring and walls of caramel. We walked into the building and the aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling brown bacon welcomed us. I waited momentarily until they asked for my order. My mom and I got our
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So we headed on back and the nurse took the usual measurements: weight, height, and temperature. We went into the office and my mom told the doctor everything and my doctor informed me that I had food poisoning. He gave me a prescription for pills that should moderate my symptoms. So we headed home and I took a pill. About, half an hour later I gained the ability to drink and walk around, yet still crippled with the inability to eat for the rest of that day and the day after. Once I got through it, I didn't recognize myself. My face and stature was so different then before I got sick I didn’t recognize myself, so I stepped on the scale and realized I had lost twenty pounds. I took a hot shower with the steam filling my bathroom to the point in which the walls were sweating and climbed into my soft warming bed and put my earbuds and drifted off to sleep to a Twenty-One Pilots song. Hoping this would help stop me from looking like a complete mess. Since that day I promised to never go to subway
I felt terrible. My head wouldn't let up, every broken bone or bruise in my body seemed to be on fire, and I was extremely dizzy, even though I was just sitting. And I really, really wanted some water, but the kitchen was too far away.
Many people in America love to get greasy, high calorie fast food from many places such as McDonalds and its competitors, but in the article “Don’t Blame the Eater” by David Zinczenko, he reveals the health problems associated with these fatty, salty meals. His articles are affective with its well organized layout, rhetorical appeals and tone which give it a very convincing argument. As you read through the article the author reveals the underlying problems with eating fast food and how there are no warnings of such problems posted. As a former obese child who grew up to diet and watch what he ate he sets a credible stance for the argument.
According to Whoopi Goldberg, "I don't have pet peeves; I have whole kennels of irritation." There are people all over the world who have situations and things that bother or annoy them. To some people, a pet peeve could be something at makes people want to punch someone else in the face. The three pet peeves that irritate me the most are pure noises, rubbing teeth on silverware, and cracking fingers or other bones.
The major premise that it builds upon is that Subway allows its customers to eat fresh. This is the stated premise in the slogan. What isn’t directly stated is that eating fresh is good. However, despite this fact, this can be assumed as common knowledge. This creates a target audience for the advertisement: people who value their health and want to eat fresh food. Subway takes advantage of the popular value across the western world for eating “fresh.” This is consistent with the general placement of Subway’s stores. They tend to be in western first-world societies who place this great emphasis on eating healthy as much as possible. The major and minor premises in the slogan lead to the logical conclusion that Subway is good. Being told that Subway allows its customers to eat fresh and that eating fresh is good, one can draw the logical conclusion that eating at Subway is good and that people who want to eat fresh should buy from their
“Don’t Blame the Eater” is an article by David Zinczenko that explains to Americans, specifically overweight young Americans, about the risks eating at fast food restaurants and its cause of affecting one’s health. In his article, he tries to address the issue about America’s food industries by using literal devices such as tone, logos, ethos, diction, and organization in order to spread his message. He begins his article by addressing the topic and as he continues writing, he supports his topic by writing about personal experience and moves onto the reasons why his topic in a serious issue. Although he shows an overall clear progress, he does tend to have a few problems with his writing that could be improved.
No matter who they are, where they came from, or what they are like, all people need the same one thing—food. Just because it is a necessity, however, does not mean that people cannot enjoy it. Tom Sietsema is the well-fed food critic of The Washington Post, and it is his job to find the tastiest places to go to scratch that necessary-for-survival itch. In his columns, Sietsema employs a vibrant style of writing that includes a unique style and various rhetorical techniques that mirror his feelings about the restaurant or food he is reviewing.
During the school day, one must eat. We get in trouble if we choose to eat in a classroom or quench our thirst by drinking an ice cold beverage during class. So we are forced to either bring a lunch, which is trouble in itself, or eat the school food from the cafeteria. Everyday when I make my journey across campus and past the cafeteria, I wonder what the intoxicating smell is coming from the building. The fries are not nutritious and are very greasy and salty, the chicken burgers are not cooked thoroughly, and the cheeseburgers are tasteless. The only thing I think is edible in the school is a Coca-Cola. The water in the fountains taste really bad. Yet everyday, hundreds of students flock to the cafeteria to poison their bodies, in a sense. Why cant we all just be happy and eat Subway everyday? That would make more sense, no?
I have no idea what a MRI is or what it supposed to do. My doctor tells me that this machine will help to determine what my colon looks like. Evidently, my colon is not working properly and is very inflamed. This inflammation is caused by a chronic disease called Crohn’s. So along with my mom in tow, we go to the MRI room. We get to the door and I say “What in the world is this?” It looks like a gigantic white space ship with a hole inside a cylinder. No, it’s a tunnel. I really don’t know what this is. No one told me how intimidating it would be. My hands are sweaty. My legs are wobbly walking to the machine. This room was certainly scary. And, there was a glass room with people watching me from another
"These Disturbing Fast Food Truths Will Make You Reconsider Your Lunch" Renee Jacques. The Huffington Post. November 20, 2013. < http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/11/20/fast-food-truths_n_4296243.html>
I didn't eat very much because my stomach was upset and I was full of liquid. A week later after being sick I finally went to the E.R at Akron children's hospital in Boardman to see what was wrong.
“Have a great day at work!” Michele proclaimed as I walked out of the front door and felt the brisk air as it blew onto my skin. I remember the sound of birds chirping as I made my way to my car. I started my car and begin listening to Queen as I began my commute. I pull up to my spot in the parking garage and walk to my office. Many people stopped and said,”Hello!” on my journey. As I sat down at my desk, the telephone began to ring.
After I got dressed and we finally made it into the doctor’s office, they gave me nausea medicine to get me to stop throwing up and began to ask me questions about my pain like where it was located, the level of pain I was feeling, when it started, and any possible causes of it. Taking my answers into consideration, the doctor immediately didn’t give me an answer as to what it is or what I could to for the pain, he just said that my mom needed to take me to the emergency room right away. Of course this news will make anyone go into shock and worry, I shot my head over to my mom, her brown eyes got large, her light grin automatically shifted, she started rubbing her hands together nervously, and she didn’t know what to say, so she just stood
In fact, all my problems came from my coworkers and in this essay, I will share three things I dealt with while working at this fast food place. First the rude coworkers, Second the racism, and Last but not least the rude assistant manager. All three of these problems were things that lead me to quit and never want to
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her humungous skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every
I saw my hotel in the distance. I had called and told them I was coming, I was hungry too. I walked in and stopped in my tracks.