It’s pizza time!

So, in talking to Kallay about carbs.  A lot.  Every other post.  Basically.  (See, she’s having to carb up for a doc visit, and, well, it’s having an effect.  Anyway.)  I decided that I should carb up a bit myself, and order a pizza.  Sure, I like Papa John’s, and Pizza Hut has it’s good specials, but, due to past employment, and just plain fond memories, when it comes to pizza, my first thought is always Domino’s.   And, in this new fatty friendly day and age we live in, we can order a pizza without even having to pick up a phone!  Onto Dominos.com I logged, and placed my order.  Have you guys done this?  It’s entertaining, actually.  The order tracker is exciting.  For instance, instead of wondering what sort of thing is going on with my pending pizza, why, I get this! 

Suhab just put my pizza in the oven!  I can picture it in my head!  A smile on his face as he uses one of those old fashioned wooden paddles to slide his creation into the waiting flames…ok.  So, I romanticized a bit.   But, still, it’s informative.   Then, it goes to Suhab is double checking my order for perfection.  It remained upon this one for a long time, it seemed.  Ok, calm down a bit, Suhab.  Put the magnifying glass away.  I am not that hard to please, but, I am getting hungry.  Speed it up a bit.  And then, aha!  I got to see who my driver would be!  It’s like the lottery.  Maybe you’ll get a hot chick!  I mean, I would probably poop if I saw “Tiffany just loaded up your order and is on the way!”  Or Raychel.   But, sometimes, it’s Bertha.  Bertha means I don’t have to fix my hair.   Or, a dude.  If it’s a dude, I might not even put on real pants.   But this time?  Oh, it wouldn’t be easy.  No.  This time, I got a big fat helping of ambiguity!  “Frances has loaded up your order, and is the way!”    Well, shit.  Frances.  Ok, Frances is mostly sort of a guy’s name.  But, as Kallay said, if I was a dude who’s name was Frances, I’d go by Frank.   Unless I was pre-op or something.   I’ll just show you:

 me:  Fuck!!!
Ambiguous name.
 kallay:  ?
 me:  Frances is delivering my pizza.
75% chance it’s a dude.
 kallay:  yeah pretty much
although
if I were frances
 i would insist on being called Frank
me:  Better brush my hair and put on jeans rather than jammy pants just in case.
kallay: i mean… yeah.  i would too.
either way
i mean pizza chicks have to wear an ugly outfit
but if i go to the door in my jammies then they get to feel better about their lives
  i’m not sure i’m ready for that level of kindness
 me:  There is Frances Fisher, an actress.
 me:  Holy shit, I better change shirts, too.  I google imaged Frances, and the first page was all chicks.
 kallay:  she’s probably asian
5 points says that she is
 me:  Fuck!  I better lose some weight, then, too.
 kallay:  have any knives?
or… big sweatshirt… and suck it in
that always works for me
 me:  I have a pretty powerful vacuum.  Liposuction still has its upside.
 kallay:  i’ve considered it
but i gain and lose weight so fast it’s pointless
until my skin gives up on this yo yo parade
 me:  The problem with lipo is that you are totally forced to deal with the excess skin issue.
My belly becomes a mudflap for my dick.
 kallay:  mmm… wonderful mental picture
 me:  Thanks, I thought so.

So, yes.  Suddenly the odds of Frances being a chick were improving.  This meant I had to fix myself up a bit.  So much for the lazy pizza order.  Here were some of the possible Frances people who could come to my door.

Ok, the odds of Hurricane Frances delivering my pizza were slim, but, I try to be all inclusive.  You get the idea.  Suddenly, this seemed more like a date than just getting ready to stuff a pizza down my throat.  And people say I over complicate things.  Ha!  So, I opted for a fleece pullover, and some cargo pants.  Casual.  And, I did indeed brush my hair a bit.  Then, I wait.  I get this:

Frances is practically here!!!  So, I watch the window for the car with the sign thingy driving down the road, and, unfortunately, it’s too far away to tell gender, or even species, really.  It could have been a highly trained gorilla, who knows.  I mean, what, if you meet a gorilla who is named Frances, you’re going to point out that it’s a girl’s name?  Don’t you know the joke about where a 500 pound gorilla sleeps?  Anyway, the moment had come, so downstairs to the door I went, plus a splash of cologne.  (Hugo, by Hugo Boss, in case you are wondering.  I liked it because it was on Christmas clearance, and the bottle was shaped like a canteen.  Not sure what they were trying to say with that, but I listened anyway.  ‘Smell like the army!’ ) 

 So, I saw the car pull up and park, then I saw the driver exit.  Ah.  Frances was a dude.  Did any of you ever see Red Dragon, the prequel to Silence of the Lambs?  You know the part where, after Francis (See?  Use an I next time, dude.  Save my cologne)  ate the painting, then dork walked out of the museum?  That was this guy.  He kept his arm lifted in a bent position, and walked very briskly.  I was immediately creeped out, especially with his 70s mirror sunglasses.  Guess CHiPS is still big over in Ahghan-ee-stan.  Then, as he came closer, he smiled.  What few teeth remain were in rather bad shape.  So, so much for any similarities to Ponch.  “Hello, my friend!!  I am having your pizza!”  The hell you are, bud.  I paid for it, you get your own.  I opted not to take his picture, which I was gonna, because he seemed like he would like it too much.  He went on about something or other while I signed the receipt, going on about finding the bottom of the complex vs the top, blah blah…all I know is, every time I glanced over, my eyes were immediately drawn to his one remaining bottom tooth.  Why not go ahead and let that one go?  Seriously.  Did you wait too late to care?  If I only had a few teeth, I would either get rid of them, or make them some of the best looking teeth ever.  I may only have one tooth left, but check this baby out!!   It shines like your grandma’s white ass!   So, I signed the receipt, left the tip, and he said “Please be enjoying your meal, my friend.”   Then he gimped away.  Really quickly.  Actually, I would say he ran.  What did he have waiting for him back at the shop?  It’s sweet that he misses Suhab that much.  Maybe Suhab is the chick.  I am not very good at knowing the gender of that foreign a name.  It feels male, though.  A dude pops into my head when I hear the name.  Actually, a chubby scruffy kind of dude.  Like, the guy from the first Mummy.  You know, the prison warden who decided to go with them to protect his investment?   This guy.

THAT looks like a Suhab.  Anyway, I ate my pizza, and it was good.  It really was up to the hype of the new Domino’s.  And, the cats loved it, too.  They all sat around and waited for me to slip them a piece of the meat or cheese.  They even dig tomato sauce.  Pity Hoss wasn’t around to eat the “bones”.   Crusts are, to dogs, the pizza’s bones.  Usually, when I get my pizza on, he lays his chin on my arm and covers it with drool while he “patiently” (a relative term for a dog) waits for the goods.  All in all, a good experience.  But, I got dressed and cleaned up, even put on some cologne.  Now I feel like I should actually go somewhere.   Oh, and, Sioned got to lick the box.  She’s old, and cranky, so, she wins a lot.   The others seem not to find the fuss she puts up worth whatever it is.  Whatever works for her, I say.