Monday, August 4, 2008

I Dreamed I Was Making Out With The Italian Delivery Guy

You should have seen the Food Delivery Guy that came a knockin' on my door! He was so gorgeous that I could barely wait 24 hours before I ordered again. Here I am house sitting at this awesome house and now my life is like something out of a porno.

So I order a salad... that's what skinny girls eat. Sure enough, 30 minutes later, he rings the bell. Actually, as my friend can attest, he didn't even ring the bell, it's like I could sense his car was winding up the street and I flew out the front door and down the stair case with all the single dollar bills I could find.

$31.00 is a good tip on an $8.00 salad, right?

I open the door, cute outfit, cute hair, lip gloss. He smiles.

"That'll be $8.45, M'am."


He recklessly "M'am'd" me. Which means, to him, I most closely resemble his mother, grandmother or wacky aunt with a boxy ass. I knew I should have taken that Retin-A when my doctor offered it.

Dream over.

I paid him. And then I stole his pen. (I did think of hitting him over the head with my salad... but I had to maintain my dignity somehow.)

I took the bag up to the house, looked inside and he didn't even bring me any bread. Why did he keep hurting me like this????

Ugh, when you want bread this much, I think it means, it's time to start dating again.

This blog is dedicated to starting over.