Special Delivery

Don't you hate that image of the girl on her couch, wearing lounge pants and a sweatshirt, covered in a blanket, hair all-a-mess with a spoon in a tub of ice cream? I do too - - because it's often the reflection of myself in my t.v. screen whilst watching Lifetime Network for Women. Why isn't it acceptable to devour a tub of ice cream...alone, drink a full bottle of red wine...alone, or order a large pizza...for yourself?

Last night I stumbled across a sheet of coupons. Since the fridge was empty and I couldn't drive anywhere, you know because I had been drinking by myself, I decided to commit the crime and order the freakin' pizza. I made the call, got transferred to a closer delivery location, placed my order, reminded them of my coupon, and proceeded to wait the habitual 45 minutes. Somehow shortly after I hung up the phone I managed to fall asleep (this should come as no surprise to my friends who call me the Narc). When I woke up I was so excited for my pizza, but I looked down at my watch and an hour and a half had passed. What the hell! Confused, pissed and hungry I called the pizza place and yelled: "you guys never delivered my pizza!" (this had to be true, my condo is tiny, i was on the couch, I would have heard - - maybe the hoodie on my sweatshirt muffled the sound) - "hold one moment, ma'am, let me check...it says here it was a bad order." - "bad order? I've been sitting 5 ft from my door for the past one hour and a half!" - "ma'am they came to the door, but nobody answered" - "but I would have heard, and why did nobody call me...." Suddenly I must have fully woken up and realized the patheticness of the situation - I was arguing over a pizza ordered for one at 9:30pm on a Wednesday night. As punishment for being so lame, I went to bed on an empty stomach.