It’s coming up on a year now since I got my current job as a pizza delivery girl, and I thought this would be a good time to delve into the little ever-expanding “WTFPIZZA” note I keep on my cell that helps me remember some of my more, uh - interesting deliveries.

So without further ado and in no particular order, here’s some pizza customers who left a lasting impression on me thus far:

- A bearded man who answered the door and periodically spat blood into a crusted Harley-Davidson coffee mug while counting out his cash.

- A woman who slipped me a business card (in lieu of tip) for a laser tattoo removal clinic, explaining “In case you want to bring your mutilated skin back to how God intended it to be.”

- At least three Batmans so far, but only one who did the voice.

- An elderly Spanish woman who meekly presented me with a (rather classy) pearl-handled .32 snub nosed revolver and asked if I knew how to load it (I do) and also, if I could load it for her (I didn’t).

- A group of EMT’s hanging out in the back of an ambulance at a recently extinguished (but still smouldering) house fire.

- A man with a thick Alabama accent who admonished me for standing in front of his mailbox while I waited for him to answer the door.  He then explained how this was a federal offense because I was “obstructing the mail system” and demanded my social security number so he could “report me to the proper authorities”.

- A group of young teenage girls (like 14-16) who begged me to buy a case of Bud Light (ew why) and bring it back to them.

- A hotel room full of badass middle-aged women all dressed as Professor McGonagall from the Harry Potter films, who were also completely wasted on Jello shots.  They kept encouraging me to stay and party with them.

- A 20-something dude who answered the door with an unsheathed katana dangling through a belt loop on his jeans.

- Multiple instances of people asking if I would sell them pot. (bitch get your own dealer sheesh)

- A guy who slipped a twenty directly into my shirt because I apparently was the “spitting image” of his deceased daughter.

- A woman who admonished me for driving a Mazda, and wrote “get a real car” in the tip portion of my credit receipt.

- A very drunk dude who gave me his iPhone and had me take a bunch of Myspace-esque pictures of the both of us.  He did the duck lips thing in every shot.

- Multiple prank deliveries (joke’s on you motherfucker, I get paid for the gas AND I eat the pizzas you ordered)

- An elderly man who wrote “FUCK OFF” as his signature on a credit receipt.

- A thirty-something guy who begged to get his order for free because he “works so hard”.  He visibly teared up and sniffled when I told him I couldn’t do anything.

- A dudebro wearing a bath robe and socks + sandals (indoors) who straight up wordlessly yanked the pizzas out of my hands without paying and shut the door.  Multiple knockings were of no avail.

- A woman who angrily demanded to see my ID because she refused to believe my claims that I’m female.  She proceeded to snatch my driver’s license out of my hand, run back into her house and show it to her children while pointing back at me.

- A kid no older than 14 who desperately tried to convince me to play WoW on the free custom server he was playing on. (But it has double XP!)

- A guy who spent the entire time I was there digging a (impressively large) booger out of his nose.  He proceeded to smear it on, thankfully, HIS copy of the receipt.

- An on-duty cop who flagged me down by intercepting me on the road before I got to the police station and pulling me over to get his pizza.

- A drill instructor looking-guy who filled out his entire credit card receipt, specifically wrote “0.00” in the tip portion, then proceeded to write out a check for seventy-eight cents and handed it to me.  It said “pizza tip” in the “For” section.

- A furious lady who yelled at me for a solid five minutes (I kept track) all about how long it took for her delivery to get to her.  She then tipped me an extra ten bucks on a six dollar order.  I dunno.

- An incredibly stoned teenager trying and failing to look sober.  When I complimented his Adventure Time wallet (which was super cute) and asked where he got it, he immediately looked terrified, sat down on the floor and muttered “I… I don’t know….”

- Obligatory naked man with unimpressive penis

- A chick at a house party who answered the door and immediately turned to vomit into her mailbox.

- A surly Korean mom with an amazing shoulder tattoo of a baby giving birth to a full-grown woman.

- A man who lived in one of those mini-mansions inside a gated community, who sported a seemingly massive collection of what appeared to be solid glass spheres of varying size and color.  I only got a quick glance in his house but there had to be hundreds of them in display racks, tables, shelves - everywhere.

- A group of 20-something guys who challenged me to sing the original Pokemon theme song, which I did.  And perfectly, I may add.

- A completely iced-out musclebound gangster kid who was blaring Regina Spektor so loud and with so much bass I actually couldn’t hear anything he was saying.

- An elderly guy who deadpan asked me if I knew anyone who could score him hollowpoint bullets.

i was entombed in the back room at work from 4:30 pm to 11 pm today. they played the world’s worst radio station. you might remember it from my THE CRANBERRIES meltdown a little while back, where ‘dreams’ by THE CRANBERRIES played every 15 minutes for no discernible reason.

BUT

the song that the radio station decided to play constantly today was carrie underwood’s “all american girl.” they played it 147,500 times in the six hours i was back there. which seems impossible, but it’s true.

if you’ve never heard the song, it’s one of those ones that was written for white girls with 4-wheelers and at least one camouflage baseball cap to dance to with their balding, red-faced fathers, generally at purity balls and first weddings. you know the ones. YOU KNOW THE ONES.

the basic plot is that a man wants his pregnant wife to birth a son he can take fishing and throw a football with. girls are unable to fish or throw footballs due to evolution, which has given us elbows that are only suited for carrying infants and laundry baskets. :( the man also wants a son to take “pride and joy” in, which is just ridiculous. i have many brothers, two of which i’ve known their whole lives. they ate every booger they ever met as children. and teen boys smell like the portapottys at renaissance fairs, just protein farts and beer poop and funnel cake barf, almost constantly. why would anyone ever be proud of or joyful about that? PLOT TWIST: the pregnant wife has a girl. in accordance with the law, the husband presumably casts his wife out of the village, because she is never mentioned in the song again. she’s not even really mentioned in the song at all, except for obliquely in the first line (“since the day they got married”). in fact, the nurse is the one who presents the inferior girlchild to him later. (holy shit, did the mom die? was she killed because of her weak womb? this just got dark.) but when the nurse came in with a little pink blanket all those big dreams changed no boy. no fishing. no football. no dreams. only void.

here’s the chorus:

and now, he’s wrapped around her fingers she’s the center of his whole world and his heart belongs to that sweet, little, beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-american girl this song, despite being called “all-american girl,” has nothing to do with the titular girl at all. she’s a total nonentity, even when carrie underwood is listing a series of adjectives that allegedly describe her! it’s incredible. as an aside: a lot of my family history is made up of weird crackers, but not all of it, and nothing makes me more immediately, urgently aware of my brown ancestry than hearing white people use the phrase “all-american.” nothing. it’s always my cue to leave, because the conversation is probably about to get kinda klan-y.

sixteen short years later she was falling for the senior football star before you knew it he was dropping passes skipping practice just to spend more time with her i guess this is supposed to be romantic, but it’s the opposite. what we learn about this senior football “star” is that he’s a dumb idiot who’s bad at football and using her as an excuse to shirk his responsibilities. RUN, GIRL. this is how you end up at 22 with three ugly kids and a husband who resents you for “ruining” opportunities he never actually had! HE WAS GONNA GO PRO. HE COULD HAVE MADE IT. OBVIOUSLY. jesus christ. just go to work, aaron. those subway sandwiches aren’t going to rub e. coli all over themselves.

also, before i knew it? no. i knew it all along. it was my passes this fuckin slacker was dropping. the coach said, “hey, son, what’s your problem tell me have you lost your mind? daddy said you’ll lose your free ride to college. boy, you better tell her goodbye.” and now, he’s wrapped around her fingers she’s the center of his whole world and his heart belongs to that sweet, little, beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-american girl this song is a goddamn sausage fest. why is the coach referring to this boy’s father as “daddy?” not “your daddy.” just “daddy.” daddy’s paying for this boy’s college, too, presumably contingent on the boy doing well at football. in this economy? HA. i think “daddy” is actually a sugar daddy, with many sugar sons(? is that what they’re called? sugarmerican boys?), among them the coach and this football child. sugar daddington is probably angry that his sugar son is stepping out with this sweet little beautiful wonderful perfect all-american hussy, and is threatening to withdraw financial support. come on, football dummy! you know what you gotta do! MONEY IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS.

WITCH !

felt like playing around with the whole “witch” idea regarding Lapis 

Been a while since I churned out something this finished, I hope you all like it as much as I do !

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I bought this book on a whim because I saw it on tumblr and I am so happy I did.  It is an anthology of Lesbians writing about how important cats are to them, published in 1991.  It contains exactly the kind of earnest and wonderful content one would expect of such a book

 All cats mentioned are named and they have names like Amazonia, Wicca and Paulose Lautrec

There is a chapter that is just a very earnest letter exchange between the staff of a lesbian book store and a patron who is allergic to cats, that ends with both sides trying to bridge the gap between humans with allergies and the right of a cat to live where she chooses (the cat gets brushed daily as part of the compromise)

There is a chapter written by an ex-nun who says that her three cats (Mabby, Annie and Buber) taught her how to resist the patriarchal pressure to obey.

The following quote is 100% serious and unironic, “I am aware that patriarchal society gives the lesbians in our household life-and-death power over the cats. I don’t like that but I continue to keep cats in my home because the alternative is worse”

i had to camp downstairs near the door for trick or treaters so i drew this on fire alpaca (as u can tell lol) a scene from this scrapped fic i was writing before peridot’s limb enhancers turned out to be not-actual-limbs and when her redemption arc seemed as least likely as raining frogs.