Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Things I Wish Weren't True But Are

When I told Carl that I couldn't be at his house at 3 this afternoon when his daughter would be getting off the bus, he asked why. I told him he didn't need to know, which proceeded to become a minor, amusing point of contension for the next 24 hours.
"I'm sure gonna miss you...."
"Oh yeah? Where am I going?"
"I don't know! *glare of consternation* You won't tell me!"
I did not refuse to tell him because I'm embarrassed to be this town's newest hot wing-slinging pie jockey. I mean, pizza girls can be hot. As per a conversation with R, I have seriously considered growing some dreds, slashing my competition's tires, and becoming a street racer after-no...during work hours. I will take no shit and hustle pies on these mean (ok, suburban) streets faster and with more sass than any of the grizzled vets. I'll start a pizza-driver gang and we'll call ourselves Chicks With Breadsticks, or Hot Pie.

...maybe not Hot Pie, but you get me. I know you get me. You are thinking Angelina Jolie in Gone in Sixty Seconds just like I am.

I didn't tell him because this might be the dumbest idea I've had since H & R Block. And the only thing worse than being totally wrong or failing miserably is failing miserably at something incredibly stupid. Which would be embarrassing.

But, so far, so good. In four hours I made about as much money in tips as I made by cashing in six months of saved change. And that's with being totally late to half of the deliveries, having to actually call one customer and get directions to her house, and only really delivering things for three and a half hours. I was sort of wishing that this would suck and totally not be worth my time, and I could just turn down the job offer and no one would ever know of my stupid stuuupid venture into the world of food delivery, but it actually seems kind of fun, so would anyone like breadsticks with that?

I also wish that it wasn't true that I watched the full hour of Britney and Kevin: Chaotic last night and found myself entirely mesmerized by the prospect of Britney Spears and her breasts boinking that skinny little punk like a coked-up rabbit in heat, but it is.


  1. practicing to be a get away driver again i see. i guess my house is out of your area for a drop off. and i utterly refuse to watch the quivering mass of crap britney is hocking on UPN. did you see the use of night vision? if paris was not enough now other people think it is cool like it never existed before the prissy bilima-queen made a sex tape

  2. oh and now you decide to go for dreads? damn it. you know what i sayin

  3. Yeah, the ultra-close-ups of Britney's nostrils are definitely un-hot. But the whole thing has the train wreck effect going on for me.

    As for the dreds, I knew deep down I was a retro-punk-indy-rockabilly, I'm just a late bloomer.

    (and I'm not really growing dreds)

  4. you know you would be hot if you did. you woudl have to do more artful things though

  5. yeah, I'd have to paint murals on my wall and macrame myself a coffee table and do more mind-expanding drugs and have much, much cooler shoes.

  6. that's what i'm saying. when you decide to make that move, i'll be your travelling companion, bongo tappin buddy. i would like that i think.