(no subject)
so papa ginos has a new answering service. it basically replaces the long winded spiel that we were expected to recite every time we answered the phone. its dreadful. its about 2 minutes shorter than The Ten Commandments (the movie...) That provides the customer with just enough time to ponder his or her dire hunger and decide that we, and our inane answering service should take full responsibility for his or her near death state. i will then proceed to be berated by criticism worthy only of our government by jane "my tubes should've been tied after my first child, but i forgot, and the world will suffer accordingly" {insert irish or italian last name here} before she goes on to order 3 large pizzas, all of which, like her estranged husband, will only disappoint her.
we don't make good pizza.
WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT
in truth, i am eternally grateful to papa ginos, it has given me a wealth of ridiculous stories and an excuse to be disgruntled during the summer months. i have fine tuned the crusty attitude with which i receive my guests. the prospects of having to someday abandon it and treat people with the dignity and respect that they deserve frightens me.
i've lost a sense of realism in my eternal quest for post graduation employment ideas. i think my announcement that i had an accute interest in becoming an heiress the other day might've been most indicative of this. i've also begun to regress to the old second grade standby- marine biologist in the morning, ballerina in the afternoon. in first grade i wanted to be an archaeologist, thus proving what i had suspected all along- my firmest grip on reality was between the ages of 5 and 8. i hold reading rainbow partly responsible for what i now refer to as the denise huxtable syndrome. every episode lamar burton did his damndest to get you ridiculously excited about something. sometimes it was japan, sometimes it was baking chocolate chip cookies, but more often than not it was a career. and i'd always bite, hook line and sinker. sure lamar, you're right. being a garbage man is flipping AWESOME. and you say theres a book about it too? SIGN ME UP.
after years of lamar toying with my emotions and any ability that i had in long term planning whatsoever, i clued in to his evil little game. but it was too late, the damage had been done.
i love spanish. i really do. i love it in a way that isn't quite rational, a way that doesn't make a great deal of... sense. i get really pumped about the spanish channel (all 3 of them). every day its the same thing- anne walks to the television. anne turns on tv. anne- "what! there are 3 spanish channels!!! AWESOME!" anne sits. anne watches first channel for about 3 minutes. its futbol. futbol failed to captivate anne's interest even during her brief career as a futbol player c. age 9. anne glances to the side. anne changes channel. anne watches game show hosts with tassles on their boobs dance to a midi file of a mariachi band. anne is briefly distracted by shining material from which said tassles are made. anne sighs deeply. anne changes to third channel only to find 50 mexicans in a studio audience dressed in costumes that anne is absolutely incapable of explaining. 7 of them are dressed as chickens (in various stages of life). anne decides that the world of telemundo is far to complex for her simple mind and 2 minutes later has turned to Starting Over, which she will watch religiously every day until she dies.
This happens
every
day.
Often it happens a few times throughout the day.
I'm beginning to realize, however, that maybe, just maybe, I understand those tassled boobs and chicken costumes better than you or I or anyone truly knows. Maybe, just maybe our feigned misunderstanding is just a coverup for what everyone knows, but no one wants to admit- telemundo IS the most entertaining form of television
in
the
world.
we don't make good pizza.
WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT
in truth, i am eternally grateful to papa ginos, it has given me a wealth of ridiculous stories and an excuse to be disgruntled during the summer months. i have fine tuned the crusty attitude with which i receive my guests. the prospects of having to someday abandon it and treat people with the dignity and respect that they deserve frightens me.
i've lost a sense of realism in my eternal quest for post graduation employment ideas. i think my announcement that i had an accute interest in becoming an heiress the other day might've been most indicative of this. i've also begun to regress to the old second grade standby- marine biologist in the morning, ballerina in the afternoon. in first grade i wanted to be an archaeologist, thus proving what i had suspected all along- my firmest grip on reality was between the ages of 5 and 8. i hold reading rainbow partly responsible for what i now refer to as the denise huxtable syndrome. every episode lamar burton did his damndest to get you ridiculously excited about something. sometimes it was japan, sometimes it was baking chocolate chip cookies, but more often than not it was a career. and i'd always bite, hook line and sinker. sure lamar, you're right. being a garbage man is flipping AWESOME. and you say theres a book about it too? SIGN ME UP.
after years of lamar toying with my emotions and any ability that i had in long term planning whatsoever, i clued in to his evil little game. but it was too late, the damage had been done.
i love spanish. i really do. i love it in a way that isn't quite rational, a way that doesn't make a great deal of... sense. i get really pumped about the spanish channel (all 3 of them). every day its the same thing- anne walks to the television. anne turns on tv. anne- "what! there are 3 spanish channels!!! AWESOME!" anne sits. anne watches first channel for about 3 minutes. its futbol. futbol failed to captivate anne's interest even during her brief career as a futbol player c. age 9. anne glances to the side. anne changes channel. anne watches game show hosts with tassles on their boobs dance to a midi file of a mariachi band. anne is briefly distracted by shining material from which said tassles are made. anne sighs deeply. anne changes to third channel only to find 50 mexicans in a studio audience dressed in costumes that anne is absolutely incapable of explaining. 7 of them are dressed as chickens (in various stages of life). anne decides that the world of telemundo is far to complex for her simple mind and 2 minutes later has turned to Starting Over, which she will watch religiously every day until she dies.
This happens
every
day.
Often it happens a few times throughout the day.
I'm beginning to realize, however, that maybe, just maybe, I understand those tassled boobs and chicken costumes better than you or I or anyone truly knows. Maybe, just maybe our feigned misunderstanding is just a coverup for what everyone knows, but no one wants to admit- telemundo IS the most entertaining form of television
in
the
world.