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On behalf of all my brothers, I must say that your entire article is careless, groundless, and sophomoric. --from my mail in the paper. |
Tuesday, February 29, 2000 Pizza Delivery First things first. If you sent me mail today -- as many of you did -- and you haven't yet received a response -- as most of you haven't -- hang in there. I figure it'd be better if I got at least a modicum of sleep before trying to reply to y'all. Briefly, I finally finished Roxana at about 6 AM. At about 6:30 AM, I sent an e-mail to my professor pleading for an extension on the essay, due to my cold, after which I fell asleep a bit past 7 AM. Woke up about 10:30, checked my mail, found out that I now had until Friday to write that essay. Eventually got out of bed and went to college, arriving just in time for my noon class. After class, picked up my copy of the college paper, and was immensely gratified to see the Letters to the Editor page, which, on this occasion, consisted of an entire page to the effect that "Shmuel is an idiot." A whole page, devoted to me! I feel so loved... I went around the building, just showing it off and kvelling. From there, I went home, feeling kinda zonked, and proceeded to spend the next few hours on the phone with my mother, two siblings, and a friend. Umm, not all at once, though. Then I set the VCR to tape Buffy and Angel, as I anticipated falling asleep during them. I turned out the lights, lay down, the show started... and, well, somewhere along the line, I got my second wind, and found myself awake after all. Buffy was fun, by the way.
Towards the end of Angel, I realized that if I were going to be awake, I could really use some fuel. And, when walking home from college earlier in the day, I had been reminded that a new pizza shop opened up in the area recently... and its shtick is that it accepts orders over the Internet, and offers free delivery. So I decided to give it a try, placing my order at 10 PM for a 10-inch "Burning Warehouse" pizza, billed as "too hot to handle maybe, maybe not?" I filled out the form, clicked the button, and was assured that my order had been placed. At about 10:30 PM, I decided that the pizza probably wasn't coming. At 11:43 PM, I got a phone call to confirm my order. "Umm, I ordered it two hours ago," I said. "Really?" they said. "Yeah, at 10 PM!" I said. "Oh," they said, explaining that they'd been busy and had only just seen the order. Did I still want the pizza? "Okay," I said. At 12:03 AM, my pizza finally arrived. I didn't tip the delivery boy.
Now, as for the pizza itself... it lived up to its billing. I can still feel the burn on my lips, lo, forty minutes later. Most of it's in the fridge right now, actually, and I'm looking forward to getting back to it tomorrow. Not worth the wait, granted, but very spicy and quite good. Enough so that I probably won't be writing them off entirely as a result of this experience. In fact, I've gotta find a way of getting a pie of this over to my father; I'm sure he'd love it. I think I'll be ordering by phone next time, though.
My latest column for the college paper should have been submitted by now, but I really need to get some sleep before writing it. Hopefully, that'll come soon, and I'll submit the thing tomorrow. Not optimal, but it should be okay.
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