2003-09-29

The highlight of my weekend was yelling at the pizza guy. Not to say that my weekend wasn�t great, but yelling at the pizza guy was a lot of fun. My sister ordered two medium pizzas last night: one with meat and cheese, for her, and one with NO meat and NO cheese for me, since I�m one of those self-righteous vegan types. Forty-five minutes later, we got one pizza with meat and no cheese, and one with cheese and no meat. My sister called the pizza place, and the guy had the nerve to tell her she�d placed the order wrong and there was nothing he could do about it.

Fuck you guy, I�m hungry. I called back and got the same asshole. I didn�t let him get a word in edgewise: �Hi, my sister just called you � we got our pizzas and they aren�t what we ordered. I�m a vegetarian, and now I can�t eat my dinner. I�m sorry, I�M STILL TALKING. Obviously someone misunderstood what my sister said, because I was two feet from her and I heard what she ordered. I�M NOT FINISHED. Now, our order has been screwed up. It�s no big deal. We�re not angry. I�ll just have to ask you to send over the right order. That�s a medium pizza with olives, tomatoes, hot peppers and NO CHEESE. Thanks very much.�

Feel my wrath, pizza drone! Half an hour later, we got exactly what we ordered, except we got large pizzas instead of medium. I�m sure we got a few �bonus� toppings too, if you catch my drift � rude customers get spit pizzas. It�s just the way of the world. But the hepatitis I don�t know about won�t hurt me, right?

I�ve learned a valuable lesson: yelling at people gets me free stuff. Boy oh boy, it�s going to be good times at the liquor store next Friday!

And, lest I yell at you, please go read my new entry on Classic My Ass.