Ahhhhhhhhhh, crap. Lets see what's happened since the last time I posted.
Oh yeah, in keeping with my pizza theme, my roommate Nate had an encounter with a customer at his job. He takes calls for a crappy local pizza place called Napoli's, or as we affectionately call it CRAPoli's.
Anyways, a woman calls to complain about her pizza being too greasy.
If you know Crapoli's you're already laughing. The rest of you need an explaination.
We've been ordering Crapoli's pizza for years, because it's cheap. Lately we've been ordering it because it's cheap AND Nate gets a 25% discount.
By any measure it's not great pizza. It's just slightly above your average shrinkwraped supermarket pizza, but with enough grease to choke a fucking camel, thus earning it the name "Grease-Shammy" (actually it's spelled 'chamois' but that looks queer).
So the conversation went something like this:
Caller: My pizza is too greasy.
Nate: You've obviously never ordered from here before.
Caller: We're visiting friends. We're from out of town.
Nate: That explains it. What did you order?
Caller: One large with extra cheese and extra pepperoni.
If you know Nate you know exactly what that 'Jesus' sounds like. It starts high and slides out. In this case it was very appropriate. See, some people actually ask the order taker to request that they not put wax paper under thier pizza, as Crapoli's does, so that a goodly portion of the grease will soak into the box, and away from the pie, on the way to thier house.
Yes, it's THAT greasy.
A large with extra cheese and pepperoni should come with free angioplasty.
I also got a call from my Mom who just got a call from my neighbor complaining that Nate has been calling her a bitch when he sits on the front porch drinking beer and smoking pot.
There are a few problems with this.
#1: If Nate had called her a bitch, he would have told us he called her a bitch. Then he would have had a hearty laugh about it.
#2: He does occasionally sit on the front porch drinking beer and smoking, but he hasn't done so recently.
#3: So far as I know there has never been any reefer in this house. Yeah, hate to burst your bubble, but it's not exactly "Fear and Loathing" over here.
So I'm pretty sure the nieghbor lady is fucking nuts. I think it has something to do with what my Grandma said when she gave me the keys to the house. She said "Watch out for the nieghbor lady, she's fucking nuts". Then she finished off her Miller High Life. Grandma kicks ass.
Speaking of the house, (and I swore I wouldn't write about this, but here goes...) the toilet runs. Ordinarily this isn't much of a problem. There's just a running water noise once in a while, you get used to it.
Well, for reasons I shan't elaborate upon, a toiletry 'malfunction' created an inch of water in my bathroom floor.
As I'm performing damage control in the restroom I hear hysterical laughter from the base of the stairs, which also happens to be the entrance to the kitchen, which happens to be directly under said bathroom.
It was raining in my kitchen.
It was either laugh or go completely mad. As you all know, I'm quite comfotable being relatively
mad, and as I've never been one for change I laughed.
This was made much easier by the hyena-like sound emitted by my other roommate Jay (AKA Bob, AKA 'Francisco', AKA 'The Incredible Hyena-Boy').
Who said home ownership is boring?
Oh yeah, one last thing, my friend Mike D is coming into town tomorrow on his return trip from DC, but he didn't say what time he'd be in. So just in case he reads this before heading out I'd like to remind him to give me a call with his cell if he gets here in the daylight as I'll be sleeping.
See you in hell.