CONFESSIONS OF A                                                                  
A San Francisco Girl's Down and Dirty Adventures in the Culinary Playground

Saturday, March 26, 2005

This Is Your Pizza, This Is Your Pizza on Drugs...

Thursday Night. I'm driving home from juvie (I work with a super rad mentoring program that helps incarcerated youth write a play in two weeks). I'm so shit ass tired that I can barely see straight. I call Jon and we both confirm that we are hungry. What to do?

I bring up Arinell and Jon's all "hell, yeah, bitches!" So we decide to get a whole pie, because we figure that I can eat the leftovers for lunch the next day (Lucky husband of mine gets FREE lunch everyday). Jon says he's gonna give them a call. It's only 9:03, It's at least another 1/2 hour before I'll be there. He reminds me that it's never ready on time anyway. Point taken. He calls and orders. They tell him 15 minutes.

I get there the prescribed half hour later, and realize that it is Thursday, in the Mission and thus, it is a complete and total clusterfuck. No parking for me. So I double park as close to the next car as I can get so I'm not a complete asshole, turn my hazards on, use the ATM next to Arinell and head inside where it's pretty damn busy. Hooray for Arinell, not so hooray for me. Estimated time is 9:37. I am greeted by Stoner Number 1 at the counter. Here is what transpired in the form of a play:

ME: "Hi, I have an order for Joy."

STONER NUMBER 1: "Oh., that was for a large pepperoni, right?"

Uh, no, a medium cheese. (side note: we try to keep it simple for them)

(Stoner Number 1 TURNS to Stoner Number 2 and whispers)

It's going to be another 10 minutes, is that OK?

ME: Um, yeah. I'm just double parked so I don't want to block anyone.

STONER NUMBER 2: Just give me, like, 8 minutes (HE starts making my pizza. That's right STARTS making it).

STONER NUMBER 1: I'm really sorry. Would you like a free drink? Here's a large coke.

ME: OK, thanks. I'm glad to see you're so busy.

(8 minutes pass during which time I get a few more "I'm sorry"'s and "only 2 more minutes"'s)

STONER NUMBER 2: Here you go -- I'm reeeeally sorry.

No worries.


Can I have a piece of pizza?

I call Jon and give him the story. He's amused (but not surprised) and elated about the free coke. He's an easy one, that hubby of mine.

They threw it in the box so fast that the cheese is sliding to one side, but we don't care, it's still tasty as all get out.

I throw my grease laden ass in bed, glad that the next day is Friday. Except that I remembered just before I fell asleep that this particular Friday was Purim. Purim is a kick ass Jewish holiday that involves costumes and treats (some of which I just learned represent vaginas, which I'm slightly dubious about, but OK) and is NOT Halloween, despite what Jon thinks. And Purim is hands down, the longest day of the entire friggin' school year when you teach at a Jewish school, especially when you teach drama and the holiday involves doing a play.

At least I had some pizza to get me through it.


"To eat is a necessity. To eat intelligently is an art."
-- La Rochefoucauld


Post a Comment

<< Home