Lick it, lick it good.

I was reminded of this story last night when I was out to dinner with my peeps. It was a few months ago and we had our friends the Storks over for dinner. We decided to just order pizza and wings from the local pizza shop. I order pizza for everyone – probably pepperoni or something. I order for me my favorite pizza of all time. It is a white Hawaiian. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. It is the garlic butter sauce instead of red sauce and it is topped with 3 cheeses, ham and pineapple. YUMMY. We wait the 45 minutes to an hour for our delivery (which is baffling to me as I used to work in a pizza place and I know that it takes approximately 12 minutes for the pizza to cook and we live about 4 minutes from the pizza shop, but whatever). The pizza finally arrives. With great anticipation I pay the delivery guy and carry my pizza to the kitchen. I take a slice, slather it with hot sauce and take a bite. WHAT THE HELL?! It has red sauce instead of white. OH I AM PISSED NOW (it doesn’t take much when I’m hungry). My hand trembles as I reach for the phone to call and report this injustice and request a replacement pizza ASAP. Some little prom queen wannabe answers the phone. I have to force myself to remain calm while I explain to her the problem. Her solution? Offer me a store credit. I DO NOT WANT A STORE CREDIT, I WANT MY PHUCKING WHITE HAWAIIAN PIZZA AND I WANT IT NOW. In my most diplomatic, honey I want to reach through this phone and strangle you but I’m not going to voice I explain that what I would really like is the correct pizza. She seems shocked by this. She offers to get her manager, who is likely smoking pot in the parking lot – not that I’m judging. So Manager Asswipe gets on the phone and asks what the problem is. My entire body is now shaking, I am covered in a thin layer of sweat and I believe one of my eyes has exploded. In my oh-so-sweet fake voice I explain what the problem is. He offers a store credit. My other eye explodes. I calmly tell him that I don’t want a store credit, I want the correct pizza. He finally concedes to send out the correct pizza, but quite rudely tells me that I will have to send back the wrong pizza with the delivery guy. Oh, you’ll get your pizza don’t you worry. I hang up the phone. My friends are looking at me as if I have 4 heads. Without a word I pick up the pizza box and start licking the pizza*. All of the pizza. Every slice. Some of them twice. Enjoy your pizza delivery phuck ups!

*for those of you worried about the poor schleps who ate the Melified pizza, don’t. I have no diseases, sexually transmitted or otherwise. They just got a little free saliva with their GD red sauce.