Just from reading the title, the outer edges of your mouth may have started to curl in anticipation of some quick witted humor or pun. With that in mind, I don't plan on disappointing you at all, in fact if you are as twisted as I am you may down right laugh, or as the young ones these days say LOL....
As you may or may not know, the wife and I bought our first home this month and we are packing up our place to make this as painless as possible. We have noticed that we are typical hoarders in that, we keep anything we have ever come into contact with, even if it is broken. With that being said, I moved on to the spare bedroom where our virtual dumping ground for the unwanted and secondary items have made their final resting place. From a distance things can be seen oozing out from under bed, or poking out from behind the television.
The quest to resurrect cleanliness back to this room has begun and before I know it I was out of floor space.
All of my years of life must have given me great wisdom, because without any rational or even a question, I chose to lean the bed and box spring against the wall. Not only against the wall, but long end up. In retrospect, this gave the bed a greater chance of falling, and when it fell it would fall twice as hard.
With all of this room that I now had to get stuff done you could imagine how the eighty four inch leaning box spring could slip my mind. For what could not have been more than three minutes after I leaned the box spring with such precision against the wall, my greatest fear was about to become reality.
I was in complete and total pack mode. I was on the floor with stacks of newspapers, tape, boxes, and tons of ornamental nick knacks that were destined to become one package. With my mind set on the tedious task of wrapping and packing I must have missed the first twenty seconds of the box springs' journey to my head. Suddenly I could tell something was amiss, when, in the process of looking up I was smashed in the face with a speeding box spring constructed of what seemed like the hardest wood ever. It took me several seconds to utter a noise as too alert Fabi that I was in desperate need of some help.
She heard my whimpering from the other room and came running in to assist her former idol. As the dust settled around the room and I came out from under this beast of a bed item, blood was the final indicator that I had failed.
To conclude this with some dignity, all I can say is to lean them length wise against the wall and never play directly under these unforeseen dangers!!!!!!!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
TCOM
For those who know what TCOM stands for, please tip your cap to Mr. Anonymous. Even though he remains behind the curtain of recognition, he will smirk and grin as he reads the following salute to the brave soldier.
Every few months or so a fresh, untrained, and at times unqualified individual crosses the gateway into the depths of employment. While they are new and pliable, still this is never an easy task to mold them into a star.
Even though the day may start with a smile, this job will eventually subdue most thoughts of rainbows and sunshine. Any of us who may have taken on the duties of "Helper" can attest to the mental and emotional breakdown that follows.
So in concluding this little expression of admiration....
Next time you see this man of secret identity, give him a pat on the back, a high five, or any other type of "PWE" appropriate salutation!!!!
C-ya'
Every few months or so a fresh, untrained, and at times unqualified individual crosses the gateway into the depths of employment. While they are new and pliable, still this is never an easy task to mold them into a star.
Even though the day may start with a smile, this job will eventually subdue most thoughts of rainbows and sunshine. Any of us who may have taken on the duties of "Helper" can attest to the mental and emotional breakdown that follows.
So in concluding this little expression of admiration....
Next time you see this man of secret identity, give him a pat on the back, a high five, or any other type of "PWE" appropriate salutation!!!!
C-ya'
Monday, October 27, 2008
Helping Hand....
Some of you may have noticed that help, at times, can be just as tedious as work. Today for instance I went to my in laws to walk the "Mule" that they call their dog.
Before I get to the point I want to say that I do love Lucy, and if she ever learns to read I will explain this to her. I am relatively confident that it will never come to fruition so... moving on.
As she peed when I entered, I was slightly pleased that half of my job was done without me even stepping foot inside. For anyone who knows this beast you know she is a bit timid and not to be messed with. She will by all means tear you up if she wanted to. Lucky for me she doesn't, so I fed her and prepared for what dismal task lied ahead.
She swallowed what seemed like a trough of food in mere seconds and started pacing around making that noise that says, "Take me out so I can make a BM!"
Well out I went, and off to the drop zone where my worst fears came to light. She whipped and wagged when all of the sudden, her back arched and tail puckered up and there it was.
I am confident that anyone who may have come over and seen this prize work of fecal art would have thought an elephant got away from the circus and stopped by to grace Birchwood with his presence.
The moral is that picking this up is only done for those who do things to help me....
p.s. I LEFT IT!!!!!!!!!!!
Before I get to the point I want to say that I do love Lucy, and if she ever learns to read I will explain this to her. I am relatively confident that it will never come to fruition so... moving on.
As she peed when I entered, I was slightly pleased that half of my job was done without me even stepping foot inside. For anyone who knows this beast you know she is a bit timid and not to be messed with. She will by all means tear you up if she wanted to. Lucky for me she doesn't, so I fed her and prepared for what dismal task lied ahead.
She swallowed what seemed like a trough of food in mere seconds and started pacing around making that noise that says, "Take me out so I can make a BM!"
Well out I went, and off to the drop zone where my worst fears came to light. She whipped and wagged when all of the sudden, her back arched and tail puckered up and there it was.
I am confident that anyone who may have come over and seen this prize work of fecal art would have thought an elephant got away from the circus and stopped by to grace Birchwood with his presence.
The moral is that picking this up is only done for those who do things to help me....
p.s. I LEFT IT!!!!!!!!!!!
Current Events
A new day is upon us and as I settle in for an eight hour shift at my place of employment I peruse the news headlines for the morning and nothing amazes me. It seems to be blurbs like, "Overseas market carnage!", "Record fuel price drop!", "U.S. prepares for more losses!", and so on, clog our news fronts in an awkward attempt to educate the people of this country as to what is going on.
We are experiencing one of the toughest economic times since the great depression. Pardon me if i embellish slightly but lets not kid each other, this is a trouncing of massive proportions. Our 401ks are cut in half, pension funds are depleting, stock accounts are making the panicked transition to cash and or money markets. The only safety net the elders have is the stocks that have managed to remain trading and paying a high dividend, and that, in this day in age is not safe. While we all wake up to down futures, crashing overseas exchanges, the only thing to do is to ignore what you don't have to touch in the next ten years. To end this rant on financial despair, I repeat, evade the current cataclysmic events and think of sunshine in Paris.
For several months, while this collapse of our global economic future approached, oil was on an upward accession. Prices rose from a normal level of around sixty dollars a barrel, to an astounding one hundred and fifty dollars a barrel. This sent fuel prices through the roof. With the looming oil and fuel prices surging past levels that we ever imagined to be possible, life as we knew it had changed. Road trips did not exist, travel plans in every form where decreased, gallivanting for general amusement had ceased. Then, as if to somewhat tickle our innards a little, as the market took a nose dive so did oil prices. So now that we have no money in the bank, we would have been able to afford gas, "Sweet Deal!!!". The cycle continued and the market drew lower, oil reached a reasonable level, and recession has set in. After OPEC had been on its high horse for several months and the Iranian leader and other Saudi Royals had licked their chops, they decided that something needed to be done to screw the American people some more.
Folks like Chavez and Ahmadinejad treat OPEC like a legal price fixing game. If the price drops due to over production and thus leading to declining demand, they simply lower production rates in an attempt to drive prices higher. What they don't understand is the higher the prices the less we use so in essence they cant squeeze any more out of us in this economic atmosphere.
Now that I have wound my self up like a top, I need to end this and decide who to blame for the current economic turmoil just like everyone on wall street and on capital hill is trying to do at this very moment.
Till next time
We are experiencing one of the toughest economic times since the great depression. Pardon me if i embellish slightly but lets not kid each other, this is a trouncing of massive proportions. Our 401ks are cut in half, pension funds are depleting, stock accounts are making the panicked transition to cash and or money markets. The only safety net the elders have is the stocks that have managed to remain trading and paying a high dividend, and that, in this day in age is not safe. While we all wake up to down futures, crashing overseas exchanges, the only thing to do is to ignore what you don't have to touch in the next ten years. To end this rant on financial despair, I repeat, evade the current cataclysmic events and think of sunshine in Paris.
For several months, while this collapse of our global economic future approached, oil was on an upward accession. Prices rose from a normal level of around sixty dollars a barrel, to an astounding one hundred and fifty dollars a barrel. This sent fuel prices through the roof. With the looming oil and fuel prices surging past levels that we ever imagined to be possible, life as we knew it had changed. Road trips did not exist, travel plans in every form where decreased, gallivanting for general amusement had ceased. Then, as if to somewhat tickle our innards a little, as the market took a nose dive so did oil prices. So now that we have no money in the bank, we would have been able to afford gas, "Sweet Deal!!!". The cycle continued and the market drew lower, oil reached a reasonable level, and recession has set in. After OPEC had been on its high horse for several months and the Iranian leader and other Saudi Royals had licked their chops, they decided that something needed to be done to screw the American people some more.
Folks like Chavez and Ahmadinejad treat OPEC like a legal price fixing game. If the price drops due to over production and thus leading to declining demand, they simply lower production rates in an attempt to drive prices higher. What they don't understand is the higher the prices the less we use so in essence they cant squeeze any more out of us in this economic atmosphere.
Now that I have wound my self up like a top, I need to end this and decide who to blame for the current economic turmoil just like everyone on wall street and on capital hill is trying to do at this very moment.
Till next time
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Hint.....
Well here i am again to bore you with things that annoy me like country music.
While working, at the store, or pumping gas at what seems like the nightclub of gas stations, people seem to want to talk to me. I am not just talking about a "Hey, nice weather were having!", or "Can you believe these gas prices?". I am talking about a full blown conversation with the entire calamity of a Q&A session to follow the initial intro, "Do you come here often?".
Allow me to interject with a slight disclaimer to my wife, in laws, and parents alike, that I am not a big fan of this and ...... Wait a tick! What am I doing? I think we get where I was going with that!
Work is another place where, with the exception of the people who know who they are, everyone starts to talk to me and when the conversation should take a hiatus it does not. Take this morning for example. I was minding my own business when a conversation ensued. When I deemed the discourse to be over, I spun my chair around, answered a few flights, and went back to my mindless task of surfing the web. "Can you believe what happened to that girl on the news?" I hear form beyond the carefully placed partition that separates us working folk. I pressed on with my clicking around the internet assuming that by me turning around earlier, I had given the proper notice that I would no longer be a part of the current dialogue. "I just don't see how they don't catch these people! Hey Al! Have you seen this?", emanates from the other side of that worthless partition. As I peer around the corner, my disgust turns to a smile as I transform into a fake partner in the conversation that I already excused myself from. We exchanged a few one liners, quips, questions, and answers when flights started calling me. To my surprise and delectation, when I was finished dishing off my traffic to the unsuspecting people in the room, she was gone and the silent web surfing resumed.
When we are all involved in a conversation and reached that pinnacle of interest and want to graciously exit the verbal interaction, a simple nod or a sigh should do it. The people on the other end of this tug of rope should just take a hint already and not educe an idiomatic exchange of pointless dribble...
Hint Hint....
With that being said, I have some new web addresses to stare at in amusement.....
While working, at the store, or pumping gas at what seems like the nightclub of gas stations, people seem to want to talk to me. I am not just talking about a "Hey, nice weather were having!", or "Can you believe these gas prices?". I am talking about a full blown conversation with the entire calamity of a Q&A session to follow the initial intro, "Do you come here often?".
Allow me to interject with a slight disclaimer to my wife, in laws, and parents alike, that I am not a big fan of this and ...... Wait a tick! What am I doing? I think we get where I was going with that!
Work is another place where, with the exception of the people who know who they are, everyone starts to talk to me and when the conversation should take a hiatus it does not. Take this morning for example. I was minding my own business when a conversation ensued. When I deemed the discourse to be over, I spun my chair around, answered a few flights, and went back to my mindless task of surfing the web. "Can you believe what happened to that girl on the news?" I hear form beyond the carefully placed partition that separates us working folk. I pressed on with my clicking around the internet assuming that by me turning around earlier, I had given the proper notice that I would no longer be a part of the current dialogue. "I just don't see how they don't catch these people! Hey Al! Have you seen this?", emanates from the other side of that worthless partition. As I peer around the corner, my disgust turns to a smile as I transform into a fake partner in the conversation that I already excused myself from. We exchanged a few one liners, quips, questions, and answers when flights started calling me. To my surprise and delectation, when I was finished dishing off my traffic to the unsuspecting people in the room, she was gone and the silent web surfing resumed.
When we are all involved in a conversation and reached that pinnacle of interest and want to graciously exit the verbal interaction, a simple nod or a sigh should do it. The people on the other end of this tug of rope should just take a hint already and not educe an idiomatic exchange of pointless dribble...
Hint Hint....
With that being said, I have some new web addresses to stare at in amusement.....
Commute
When we all searched desperately for the career that would inevitably take over our future years, we could have chose to leave NY, but none of us did! With that being said, I will take a look at the seven minute ride that plagues me almost each and everyday of the week.
You would think that at certain times of the day, like early AM, people on the road would be somewhat reserved in their over dramatic and heedless driving style. I can attest that even with my minor commute this is not the case. New Yorkers, as I see it, are inbreed with a rage that mostly comes to the surface when they start the engine to the vehicle that will soon morph into a "rage cage". Whether you drive on the expressway, parkways, or just local streets you will be faced with the people that think they always have the right away even if they don't. This state is the only place where a simple lane change can be compared to a medieval dual at dusk. Drivers contemplate if they have enough room to get ahead of you before they look into whether or not they have enough room to let you in. The battle for a car length seems to outweigh the conceivability of an accident.
As I restate the mere fact that I have a short commute and I am bothered by the devilish ways in which people drive, I will unearth the reality of a long commute.
Lets take my wife for instance. She has around a thirty minute drive through the sewers that us long islanders call roads. From the first entry way to the expressway there are horns honking and the quest for that car length that will determine one mans tardiness begins. From there we go to the five minutes of a decent cruise speed until the slow expansion of the sea of tail lights engulfs her car in the flood of red and her speed reaches ZERO. As the flood of red recedes and the speed picks up, the anger among the drivers is enraged and lane changes are the new enemy. She picks a lane and the nascar enthusiasts start zooming around her one at a time. When the next slow down approached, all the race car hopefuls are now even with, if not behind, where she comes to a stop. All of this just proves that driving like an ass gets you no where.
As the dust clears and she reaches exit 53, she exits like everyone else and picks her side street of choice. Now the creepy car behind her at a green light is just shy of revving the engine a quarter of an inch off the bumper of her car in anticipation of a green light. This is all too reminiscent of the start of a drag race at the strip with the tower of lights that signal its "go time". When the light changes green a mental reaction is triggered where if he can not immediately go forward, he beeps his horn unmercifully.
With this being said I can surmise this area with one statement, "New York drivers are in a constant state of rage".
So the next time you get in your car and venture out into the depths of hell on our roads, just relax in hopes that they will one day do the same. Remember that if the one car length is the reason you are late in the morning, you need to either leave earlier or get a closer job.
You would think that at certain times of the day, like early AM, people on the road would be somewhat reserved in their over dramatic and heedless driving style. I can attest that even with my minor commute this is not the case. New Yorkers, as I see it, are inbreed with a rage that mostly comes to the surface when they start the engine to the vehicle that will soon morph into a "rage cage". Whether you drive on the expressway, parkways, or just local streets you will be faced with the people that think they always have the right away even if they don't. This state is the only place where a simple lane change can be compared to a medieval dual at dusk. Drivers contemplate if they have enough room to get ahead of you before they look into whether or not they have enough room to let you in. The battle for a car length seems to outweigh the conceivability of an accident.
As I restate the mere fact that I have a short commute and I am bothered by the devilish ways in which people drive, I will unearth the reality of a long commute.
Lets take my wife for instance. She has around a thirty minute drive through the sewers that us long islanders call roads. From the first entry way to the expressway there are horns honking and the quest for that car length that will determine one mans tardiness begins. From there we go to the five minutes of a decent cruise speed until the slow expansion of the sea of tail lights engulfs her car in the flood of red and her speed reaches ZERO. As the flood of red recedes and the speed picks up, the anger among the drivers is enraged and lane changes are the new enemy. She picks a lane and the nascar enthusiasts start zooming around her one at a time. When the next slow down approached, all the race car hopefuls are now even with, if not behind, where she comes to a stop. All of this just proves that driving like an ass gets you no where.
As the dust clears and she reaches exit 53, she exits like everyone else and picks her side street of choice. Now the creepy car behind her at a green light is just shy of revving the engine a quarter of an inch off the bumper of her car in anticipation of a green light. This is all too reminiscent of the start of a drag race at the strip with the tower of lights that signal its "go time". When the light changes green a mental reaction is triggered where if he can not immediately go forward, he beeps his horn unmercifully.
With this being said I can surmise this area with one statement, "New York drivers are in a constant state of rage".
So the next time you get in your car and venture out into the depths of hell on our roads, just relax in hopes that they will one day do the same. Remember that if the one car length is the reason you are late in the morning, you need to either leave earlier or get a closer job.
Simplicity
Well here it goes; The first of what may be many blogs of pointless thoughts that rack my brain and have no room to fester anymore.
I spoke to an old friend today and she shed light on a topic that has bothered me for some time. She told me she is the one in the crowd with the 8 year old cell phone, and she has no intentions of fixing what "aint" broken.
This is where my mind wanders to a simple time not long ago:
Phones used to be 29.99 a month for a plan that included 20 minutes of talk time and "free voicemail" and "free caller ID"
no texts... no ringtones.. no wall paper.. no extended memory space... no google earth.. no unlimited internet.. and navigation..
I think you get the point.
We used phones for emergency calls and the occasional cheeseball attempt to look cool. Which by the way, 50 percent of the time, worked all the time. Lines at the store were safe, nights at the movies uninterupted, car rides quiet.
Now in 2008
Plans are 109.99 and you get 10000000 minutes, 29.99 for texts, 24.99 for special rings, 55.99 for unlimited internet and gps, 1.00 per wallpaper. Again, you get the point...
Now when the wife is at the store on the phone none of my personal life is safe. The guy on line ahead of her knows that the dog pooped in the house and I did not clean it. The poor old lady trying to buy bread knows that after the summer we will be trying to have a baby. The young couple at the deli counter with their child has to come back because she gets into the "funny thing that happened in bed last night" and they dont want to spoil his innocence..
Well all of this just brings me back mentally to a better, more simple way of life that was a lot less invasive.... HUGE SIGH!!!!
Until next time!!!
I spoke to an old friend today and she shed light on a topic that has bothered me for some time. She told me she is the one in the crowd with the 8 year old cell phone, and she has no intentions of fixing what "aint" broken.
This is where my mind wanders to a simple time not long ago:
Phones used to be 29.99 a month for a plan that included 20 minutes of talk time and "free voicemail" and "free caller ID"
no texts... no ringtones.. no wall paper.. no extended memory space... no google earth.. no unlimited internet.. and navigation..
I think you get the point.
We used phones for emergency calls and the occasional cheeseball attempt to look cool. Which by the way, 50 percent of the time, worked all the time. Lines at the store were safe, nights at the movies uninterupted, car rides quiet.
Now in 2008
Plans are 109.99 and you get 10000000 minutes, 29.99 for texts, 24.99 for special rings, 55.99 for unlimited internet and gps, 1.00 per wallpaper. Again, you get the point...
Now when the wife is at the store on the phone none of my personal life is safe. The guy on line ahead of her knows that the dog pooped in the house and I did not clean it. The poor old lady trying to buy bread knows that after the summer we will be trying to have a baby. The young couple at the deli counter with their child has to come back because she gets into the "funny thing that happened in bed last night" and they dont want to spoil his innocence..
Well all of this just brings me back mentally to a better, more simple way of life that was a lot less invasive.... HUGE SIGH!!!!
Until next time!!!
In Laws
This is another one of those topics that are often thought about and discussed "behind closed doors", but never out in the open.
As I delve into a issue that is often considered to be taboo, I want all who may see this to not be offended in any way. These are mere thoughts and occurences from many who have been graced with another set of parents!
I will start with how many of us married folk always invisioned the thought of more family to be a non issue, or just an added bonus. This is where the first misconception was, and by that I mean dead wrong. If you thought you had to impress your wife to get her to fall in love, you are right... If you thought that was it, WRONG!!! From the planning of the wedding to years to come, your mother-inlaw is the new target of kissing ass. A happy mother in law is a happy wife.
For the men, you must remember that a mother and daughter have this bond that you will never understand. The thing they call shy does not exist in this bond. If you have any hangups about public humiliation then leave the room when these two start to touch an area that seems like it could be private. For instance, if you have a sex life, this will come up. If she thinks she may be pregnant, there will be detailed discussion on how you did it, what kind of accident, how often you "do it", and as any concerned parent would ask what type of protection do you use. To avoid all these get a stomache ache or all of the sudden think the dog needs to go out.
I have heard stories of people that have lived with inlaws or had inlaws live with them and what I have ascertained is that this is marrital suicide. I have not had this come up and now we just bought a home so I dont have to, AHHHHH...
All you need to remember is that if you thought having one set of parents was a chore, then dont get married. You must do everything you did to impress your parents all over over again in 10 times less time...
Love to all the inlaws out there... Jan and Dick squared included..
As I delve into a issue that is often considered to be taboo, I want all who may see this to not be offended in any way. These are mere thoughts and occurences from many who have been graced with another set of parents!
I will start with how many of us married folk always invisioned the thought of more family to be a non issue, or just an added bonus. This is where the first misconception was, and by that I mean dead wrong. If you thought you had to impress your wife to get her to fall in love, you are right... If you thought that was it, WRONG!!! From the planning of the wedding to years to come, your mother-inlaw is the new target of kissing ass. A happy mother in law is a happy wife.
For the men, you must remember that a mother and daughter have this bond that you will never understand. The thing they call shy does not exist in this bond. If you have any hangups about public humiliation then leave the room when these two start to touch an area that seems like it could be private. For instance, if you have a sex life, this will come up. If she thinks she may be pregnant, there will be detailed discussion on how you did it, what kind of accident, how often you "do it", and as any concerned parent would ask what type of protection do you use. To avoid all these get a stomache ache or all of the sudden think the dog needs to go out.
I have heard stories of people that have lived with inlaws or had inlaws live with them and what I have ascertained is that this is marrital suicide. I have not had this come up and now we just bought a home so I dont have to, AHHHHH...
All you need to remember is that if you thought having one set of parents was a chore, then dont get married. You must do everything you did to impress your parents all over over again in 10 times less time...
Love to all the inlaws out there... Jan and Dick squared included..
Local Pizza Shop
As Fabienne and I pondered the choices of food to have for dinner, we reverted to the not so original choice of local italian fare. While we waited for our dear friend Chris we gazed over the ever so familiar menu and tried to be creative in our ordering when reality set in, and we decided pizza would do it.
Chris showed up and off we went, a trip past the new home that we desperately want to move into already and then off to pizza shop. Long Island has to be the only place where every street corner plaza or strip mall has a pizza place, and they all have such jazzy names like; "Joes Pizza", "Italy's Finest" (forgetting the fact that this is NY not Italy), "Vinny's Pizza". I am not including the oh so authentic pizza made by dominoes or papa johns with owners like Sayeed and Rajid.
With the big glass window and green, red, and white sign atop this castle of flat bread that is tossed in the air by the typical italian Islander with the pen behind his ear lets us all know we have arrived. So we park the car, bundle up, and shuffle in with our stomaches screaming from what seemed like the longest 6 minute ride ever.
As we crossed the threshold of the fine eatery the smell of fresh pizza and the greasy handlers of this ancient baked art drownses our nasal passages. The glass counter glowed with specialty slices and other types of odd italian works of art. Pin wheels freshly rolled 27 hours ago, the salad slice with all the wilted lettuce atop a soggy triangle of dough, all grab our attention. The typical line drapes themselves over the counter like an art auction screaming the order to the guy with the pad of paper and pen in hand, all the while there is the guy with his pen tucked so neatly behind his left ear throwing wet dough up and spinning it till perfectly round off in the distance. When it was our turn we had this all figured out yet it still took a few minutes to get it right. We ordered and scooted to the side so the rest of cattle seeking out the same italian classic could scream their order over the counter and the cycle continues...
While we wait I notice another treat, Zeppolies, unbeknownst to either one of us that the guy behind the counter would say the closest thing to "pizza guy jargon".
"4 Zeps Guy!!!"
Holding back laughter and a slight eagerness to ask him to repeat it, I said that will do it. So I paid and off we went to enjoy our fresh slice of Italy....
Chris showed up and off we went, a trip past the new home that we desperately want to move into already and then off to pizza shop. Long Island has to be the only place where every street corner plaza or strip mall has a pizza place, and they all have such jazzy names like; "Joes Pizza", "Italy's Finest" (forgetting the fact that this is NY not Italy), "Vinny's Pizza". I am not including the oh so authentic pizza made by dominoes or papa johns with owners like Sayeed and Rajid.
With the big glass window and green, red, and white sign atop this castle of flat bread that is tossed in the air by the typical italian Islander with the pen behind his ear lets us all know we have arrived. So we park the car, bundle up, and shuffle in with our stomaches screaming from what seemed like the longest 6 minute ride ever.
As we crossed the threshold of the fine eatery the smell of fresh pizza and the greasy handlers of this ancient baked art drownses our nasal passages. The glass counter glowed with specialty slices and other types of odd italian works of art. Pin wheels freshly rolled 27 hours ago, the salad slice with all the wilted lettuce atop a soggy triangle of dough, all grab our attention. The typical line drapes themselves over the counter like an art auction screaming the order to the guy with the pad of paper and pen in hand, all the while there is the guy with his pen tucked so neatly behind his left ear throwing wet dough up and spinning it till perfectly round off in the distance. When it was our turn we had this all figured out yet it still took a few minutes to get it right. We ordered and scooted to the side so the rest of cattle seeking out the same italian classic could scream their order over the counter and the cycle continues...
While we wait I notice another treat, Zeppolies, unbeknownst to either one of us that the guy behind the counter would say the closest thing to "pizza guy jargon".
"4 Zeps Guy!!!"
Holding back laughter and a slight eagerness to ask him to repeat it, I said that will do it. So I paid and off we went to enjoy our fresh slice of Italy....
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