Well, the changes continue around here.
First we switched from Becel to Celeb (its going very well- we have fully adapted now to Celeb), and now we are ordering pizza from Homers Pizza rather than Family Pizza. We have been going a little crazy, all this trying new things. I guess there must be something in the air. But what the heck? You've got to just throw all caution to the wind sometimes.
Homers Pizza was once on my boycot list, but the ban has now been lifted. The reason it was banned in the first place is a long and involved story, but basically centered around one employee who was fat, greasy, on the rag and ovulating. I am pretty sure she is long gone now, and I console myself that in all likelihood, she was "let go", so I am free to patron Homers once again.
The reason why I had to eventually make the switch from Family was that things were getting weird with the delivery guy. When the pizza guy comes to the door and is like "so is Payton getting over her tonsilitis yet?' you pretty much have to face the fact that you order pizza WAY too frequently, and I either need to scale back a bit or start mixing it up with other pizza places. So hence, obviously, the choice was made. Could I forego pizza? An attempt for me to boycot takeout is destined to end as badly as an attempt for me to play Slowpitch- pretty ugly. Me curled in the fetal position with a nosebleed. I always think that I can do it (forego pizza, not slowpitch). I always think "I'm not going to order take out for a whole month" but then suddenly I find myself in the kitchen trying to create a meal plan that involves half a bag of frozen peas, 3 frozen fish sticks, a jar of pickles that has no actual pickles left in it, and a box of soda crackers- the entire contents of my fridge and cupboards. So then I start to think- well, this is a battle I lost at hello. Though, I suppose I could have made my signature dish of fried pickled fish casserole....
Anyways, truth be told, the delivery guy from Family Pizza was starting to give me a bad vibe. I don't know what it was about him- like he was a nice guy- and I think that was precisely the problem right there. I don't like nice people. It's like "dude- just slide my pizza under the door and I'll give you your money- let's make this transaction nice and easy" But he was always so chatty, creeped me out. The guy even told me all about his vasectomy and everything.
And then when we were at Ruckers for Gages birthday party I got the most uneasy feeling. The pizzas came, and wouldn't you know it, he delivered them. And then the look on his face when he saw me across the crowded room, a flicker of recognition but something more- excitement, happiness, something along those lines. It was weird and it was fleeting but it was there, I'm sure of it, though I really can't understand it- I mean there I was in my rubby cargo pants, grubby Tshirt with a puke stain on the shoulder, hair carelessly pulled back in a messy pony tail, Blistex for make up and bouncing a baby on my hip. Anyways, the whole non verbal transaction lasted less than a second, I'm sure, but it left me feeling distinctly uncomfortable nonetheless. I felt somehow violated with his look that lasted just a beat too long...which is really weird.
Because usually it takes quite a bit to make me feel violated.
So then I decided to switch it up. I was like "It is so over with that dude" so now I have a new pizza guy, he works at Homers and he's sixteen with pimples (pimples must be part of thier hiring criteria, I don't know) and he doesn't unplug his IPod at all when he delivers my pizza. Cold and impersonal, just the way I like it.
Anyhoo... Homer's pizza is actually pretty good and it's only across the street from us so our pizza's pretty much there when we hang up the phone, so it's great. So ya, I guess I kinda broke up with the old pizza guy and got myself a new pizza hotty. My life is so exciting these days, it's just like a soap opera. Reminds me of my old boyfriend Jon, we met on elevator in Regina... this is a story for another day, though. Anyways, all's I'll say about that is that I screwed the pooch with that relatioship, if you can call a very short and one sided conversation a relationship- which, of course, I do.
Anyways, where was I??
OK. Let me see. Things are OK around here. My fleeting moment of guilt over bad mouthing Geoff has passed, and I am back to my usual scathing self. Every night I get up with Alex two or three times, but when morning rolls around he's like "Oh, I had the worst sleep last night- I kept on waking up, I'm so tired" like I'm supposed to feel sorry for him and be like "Oh, no. Off to bed with you then, but not before I whip you up a batch of fresh squeezed OJ and blueberry waffles" I just don't get it- how he acts so sleep deprived- because everytime I wake up with the babe he's snoring his freaking head off. Like- it literally comes off. I have to pick it up and put it back on his head. OK. I'm exaggerating. You caught me. But still. It's annoying. So then he stretches out on the couch all morning and acts like he's been exhausted from a full day of... something. It's terribly annoying. And then he finds some stupid football game to watch and becomes totally absorbed in it like he's some kind of a zombie. I'll tell him an entire story and then I'll be like "well- don't you think that the flounder WAS a little overcooked, though?" and he's like "huh- oh, flounder, ya." But at the same time he does NOT miss ONE beat of his precious football game, something will happen and all of a sudden he's on feet screaming "FUMBLE" at the top of his lungs. And then he and Gage sit around like a bunch of freaking Gomers discussing "do you think that Philadelphia can still make the Western Conference?" Like- what the hell is that?? I picture a bunch of beefy men in football gears carrying thier breifcases to the West for a conference. Kind of a funny image, so I tell Geoff and he gives me this annoyed glare like I'm the one who's being annoying.
I used to be so much like "women power!" All liberated and strong in my belief that I would obtain a college degree and this would make me- what?? A strong woman with strong beliefs with a place in the world other than the kitchen. I would enter the work force, be an equal participant in the home and at work- and I've ended up like this. With a husband that doesn't even know what a broom is nevermind how to use it, and whose idea of helping me out with the housework is picking up his feet when I sweep underneath him. And a job where I'm basically subservient to male doctors. And my only other prospect is a leering, middle aged, pizza guy. Blimey.
So much for the liberated woman. They just took that woman and raked her over the coals, shoved a dishcloth down her throat, plucked the pencil from her hands and replaced it with a vacuum.
But- well, here's where I wrap things up with a little saying to keep it light and funny and cute but I'm coming up empty here. Instead I'll end with a random observation. People who use the expression "finger in the dyke" really need to reconsider this expression. Even the most dryest of boring political context can not mask the blatant sexual overtones in that phrase. It just needs to be done away with.
And now an assignment: yes! And assignment!! This will cheer me up!! Try to make a sentence with the phrase "finger in the dyke" sound clean.