« My Cheap Clothes | Main | Dan's Exploits »
January 12, 2005
Pizza
Last night I helped Emma move some stuff into her new apartment. "You said you have another desk upstairs. How big is it?"
"Not very."
"Like how not very? I need to know so I know which one to put in the truck first."
I went upstairs to see how big it was. It turned out to be pretty small and just light enough for me to carry by myself. You could also say it was too big and heavy for me to fit through the hall and down the stairs by myself without slamming it into walls repeatedly. I guess it depends on how much you like the wall going down the stairway of her old apartment.
When I walked into the apartment it was pretty much in chaos. Things were in total dissarray, strewn all about the living room. Mostly as a result of two of the three people moving out. But the missing missing couch cushions -- those were gone because the guy not moving, a grown man, was washing them pissed on them in his sleep again the night before. I giggled and pointed at their absence.
"I know. I know. He's so disgusting. Why do you think I'm moving?"
We moved some desks, computers, a filing cabinet, the non urine-stained part of a papasan chair and headed out to the new apartment. When we got to the new place to unload Charles in Charge showed up. I gave him a couple heavy things and by the time he moved that stuff inside the job was done. I went upstairs and took a seat on the sofa courtesy of Carl and Liz before heading into Rachel's room to get her to explain the acquisition of her bedroom set.
It looked to me to have a sort of a 1976 meets Dynasty theme. White faux wood with bluish-grey grain and gold handles. "How old is this stuff?"
"It's pretty old, my mom bought it when I graduated from high school."
"That's not old."
"Yes, it is."
"That's like four - five years ago. I thought this stuff was from the late 70s."
Charles in Charge had made some noise earlier about getting some pizza or something. "Dominos has that 3 for $15 special. We could do that."
"Cool. Whatever."
"Alright then. What do you guys want?" Between Daniel, Emma, Rachel and I we came up with green peppers or something. We're sort of casual about pizza. "Anything else? Come on." Charles in Charge is very serious about his pizza.
He left the room and came back a few minutes later. He set his phone down on the 70s dynasty chest and asked, "What's the address here?"
"6245 B."
"6245 B. Got it. -- These fucking people. I can't understand a word they're saying. They're God damn idiots. This place fucking sucks. I don't know why they're hiring fucking retards." He picked up his phone, turned around and stepped out the door. "Sir..."
After that he found they wouldn't deliver his pizza. So he tried somplace else. I walked into the room at the tail end of the conversation, just as Charles in Charge exploded. "I just moved here.
"What do you mean you won't deliver a pizza if I haven't gotten one delivered here before. I said I just moved here.
"Fuck you! I hope you don't have [some phone company]. Cuz I work for them, and you fucking pissed me off. I'm going to cut your fucking service."
Charles in Charge is very serious about his pizza.
Posted by calculatoronfire at January 12, 2005 11:55 AM
Comments
Pizza is a very serious subject, you know? Everyone should take it seriously.
Posted by: Fate's Fool at January 12, 2005 12:30 PM
I realize pizza should be taken seriously,like don't drop it on the floor face down before eating, but some people take it a little too seriously. If you know what I mean.
Of course there are some things I am pretty serious about. Things that might seem a little crazy to other people. Things like, say, not sticking my hand into a garbage disposal even when it is not on. Making sure my toilet paper goes over instead of under. Showering daily (or pretty close to daily. most of the time).
Posted by: brian at January 12, 2005 01:14 PM
Toilet paper being over instead of under should be taken VERY seriously. Anyone that thinks reaching under the roll is easy should have a psychological examination. I have come close to ending relationships with people that are "unders".
Posted by: chriss at January 12, 2005 01:20 PM
Don't unders get it? Don't they know?
"Under" forces one to reach a varying amount of inches farther and therefore expend more energy.
Plus you invariably have to touch the wall. Who wants to do that? No sane person. I'll tell you that much.
The one thing most likely to bring about a speedy end of a relationship, for me at least, is recycling refusal. Not not recycling, I don't mind that. I'm talking about militant anti-recycling. "I'll never recycle!" "You can recycle it...when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers." etc
Posted by: brian at January 12, 2005 01:59 PM
I don't mind reaching under so much, the problem comes when the end of the roll is behind, right against the wall so you have to spin the roll and unnecessarily touching more of the roll than needed potentially contaminating it. Worse is the thought that someone else contaminated the part that you are about to touch. You know you are the only one that washes their hands after using the facilities.
P.S. I know my toilet paper
Posted by: Nick at January 12, 2005 02:06 PM
At work the janitor likes to leave started rolls on the handicap bar -- that bar with which someone in a wheelchair is supposedly able to use to lift themself onto the toilet. It is covered with no less than 4 started rolls at any given time.
One day it occured to me that people stuck their fingers into the tube to spin the paper in order to get it off. I decided not to use those rolls anymore.
The next time I went to the can I looked over at the rolls I now found myself too good for and noticed a poo stain just inside the tube. I was one visit away from having stuck my finger in the tube. I would have touched it.
Had I in the past?
How many times have I touched not only contaminated paper, but contamination?
PS - I wash my hands
PPS - Did you ever get to test the toilet paper on animals?
Posted by: brian at January 12, 2005 02:37 PM