An American Favorite Since 1918

Printed on the wrapper of the Chase's Cherry Mash candy bar I just ate:

BEST IF
USED BY
9 1 5 9

Product Plugs for People Who Sleep Past Noon, 1

Ready for that first trip to the bathroom? Yesterday's t-shirt will get you through the hall. That's right, t-shirts—because, "they're not on backwards if they're inside out."

Such a Good Pop Song Dot Com

Online t-shirt model
I think you're just my size
Online t-shirt model
Whoa, oh oh oh

Scrolling through a merch site
I wasn't looking for love
Then I saw your picture
Now you're all I think of

Online t-shirt model
Yeah you've captured my heart
Online t-shirt model
I wanna add you
(I wanna add you)
I wanna add you
(I wanna add you)
I wanna add you to my cart

Chocolat Noir

This is Part One of a Two-Part Series

This is a rabbit with a parachute. I own this rabbit.


This is the Foresthill Bridge. I live near this bridge.

This is cause for celebration.

Swoon

Today I heard a song called "Help I'm Alive" by Metric on the radio, but I didn't know it was "Help I'm Alive" by Metric, I only knew that it was a trip, it had a funky beat, and you could really bug out to it, if you will.

I thought maybe it was from the new Silversun Pickups album coming out next week. Metric and Silversun Pickups don't sound a lot alike, but Brian Aubert of Silversun Pickups sounds like a girl sometimes, almost as much as Emily Haines of Metric sounds like a girl all the time, so I'm not ashamed of my initial impression. Emily Haines, though... Oh man, Emily Haines. Dang. (She's really good at the vox.)

So, in review, or things to do:

April 14: purchase Fantasies by Metric and Swoon by Silversun Pickups, and get to bed early so you'll be bright eyed and such for Tax Day, which is all day Wednesday.

The Pizza Man is Here

"It's the pizza man."

...a child's voice, barely audible through the closed front door, 10 seconds after I knocked... I don't think the doorbell worked...

"Mom."

...silence... I'm waiting, counting again, backward from 20 so the seconds won't feel like minutes...

"Mom! The pizza man is here."

...17, 16, 15, 14... remember to smile...

"The pizza man. The pizza man is here."

...5, 4, 3, 2... the muffled voice of an adult, confused... the door cracks open and now a kid is looking up at me... he's no more than five years old... shy, but excited because...

The Pizza Man is here.

"Hey buddy," I say, smiling.

A woman appears behind him and opens the door further.

"We... didn't order a pizza," she says.

"What? Isn't this..." double checking the delivery tag... "5238? Oh, I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be at 5239." dangit. dangit. dangit.

"That's all right," she says. She laughs, probably relieved that it really was a mix up and not a visit from The Pizza Man Ripper.

"I'm so sorry about that. Have a great day."

Still smiling, I turn around and start walking away. That was awkward, but it could have been worse.

The kid starts bawling.

I keep walking. And I keep smiling.

Greetings from Pizza Camp

Despite organized protests from my friends in the "globe-o-sphere," there are reasons that I haven't written about my experiences as a pizza delivery driver, and most of them are related to the idea that a potential employer might read my blog and discover, not that I hate almost everyone I deliver pizza to (which is a perfectly rational feeling for a pizza delivery driver), but that I hate everyone on a public forum (which is generally bad for business). However, a pizza delivery event occurred yesterday that has forced me to reconsider. I will tell this story soon, and likely other pizza stories will follow now that the pizza gates have opened, but right now it's 4:30, and that means I have to trade my pajama pants for big boy pants and live the lie called "I like working here, and I like these pants."