A boring post about pizza. And water.
I ran out of ice and I don’t have any ice trays, so I figured out I could freeze water in a little bowl in my freezer. Then I hold it under hot water until it frees from the bowl, put it in a bag and smash it up. For a brief while, I was really proud of myself, like I had come up with some ingenious solution to a modern problem. Then I realized that all I did was make a bad ice tray. And that ice trays cost like a dollar. But I like to smash the ice.
I order pizza from a place down the street; it’s good. I probably order it every other week or so. When you get a pizza, they give you a menu and if you save 20 of the menus, you get $20 off of a purchase. At first I was excited. “Twenty bucks, nice.” And then I started thinking about it. Twenty fucking pizzas? Who the fuck can eat 20 pizzas? That would take like a year! If I eat 20 of your pizzas, you owe me more than that. You owe me a franchise.
I was thinking the other day about how once I had to cover a speech at some awful ‘women in business’ banquet. Everyone in the hall (it was quite large) had to give a brief introduction where they said their names and their personal hero. There was a couple there, and the man said his hero was his wife. And the woman said her hero was her district manager.
These little exchanges, common as they are in social functions, are intended to reveal a small personal truth and they almost never succeed. Because if people answered really honestly, the results would be either very dull or horribly inappropriate for the benign occasions they frequent.
“Pick a suitable adjective that starts with the first letter of your name!”
Abusive Alan. Psoriatic Pete. Barely-literate Barbara.
“If you could have dinner with any one person, who would it be?”
My mother, because she died two years ago and I really, really miss her.
“What’s something nobody here knows about you?”
I had labial cosmetic surgery. I can’t get an erection unless I’m high. My first sexual experience was with my little league coach.