If you’ve noticed, I haven’t exactly been mentioning alot about my life as a Pizza Slut. This is mainly due to the fact that about a month ago, the shit hit the fan and we are, until further notice, in limbo. But to keep myself from incriminating myself, I plead the fifth on that subject.
One of the joys of having the Scepter of Pizza Power floating precariously without a king (or queen) to weild it is that I now get to partake in a weekly management meeting every Thursday night at the perfectly acceptable non-inconvenient hour of 10:30 P.M. Before we venture to the Hut in our casual dress attire in the near-dead of night, my co-manager Awesome and I have now deemed it necessary that we meet aforehand and partake of a Long Island-inspired libation to awaken our Managerial impulses. Last night, we called up our new (but experienced) co-manager Punk (so called because he is a member of a punkish band) to join us. Our pre-management meeting get together went something like this.
Me: Ooh! What do we get this week! My peachy drink last week was amazingly delicious, but we must needs try something new!
Awesome: Yes! We’re going to have to try everything on the drink list!
After having ordered our delicious 22 oz. foo-foo buzz-inducing drinks, the real conversation(s) began.
Awesome: So I made a beautiful ham and garlic mashed potatoes and Ceasar Salad tonight and Midget Poop (her stepdaughter) looks at it and says “I’m not eating that. I don’t like it.” I said, “Your fucking eating it, so shut up.” (She is very firm with her brood of young ‘uns.)
Me: Yes, the Daughter did that before and I said, “Fine! You fucking cook for yourself!” (For the record, I refrained from using the F word when actually proclaiming that she could cook for herself.)
Awesome: Kids are the devil.
Nods were seen all around after that comment, and a few moments spent sipping our deliciously fruity drinks.
Me: Punk is here! Punk! Come sit by meeee!” (I must admit that my liquid refreshment was surprisingly potent.)
Punk: What’s up, guys? I’ve been drinking all day.
Me: Yay!!!! Drinking! Good times! Try my yum yum drink!
Punk sips my drink thoughtfully, then shakes his head.
Punk: Yeah, that’s too fruity for my taste. I’ll have a beer.
Me: (In a gruff, manly voice) He’ll have a beer, because he is big strong man!
Awesome and I giggle incessently.
Awesome: So I decided that my 12 year old is much more informative than I would like. He comes out of the bathroom the other week and says, “Mom, I’ve got ball ‘fro! Wanna see? (At this time, I burst into peels of laughter while Punk’s shoulders shake with uncontrollable guffaws) I said, “No, no. I don’t want to see.” He’s like, “But MOM! It’s ball ‘fro!”
Further conversations were then touched upon concerning the puberty of young men, including something my Rockstar mentioned about orgasms and stuffed Easter rabbits. As the alcohol further kicked in, the subjects of conversation grew more erratic.
Me: Punk! You’re going to have a baby, right? Boy or girl?
Punk: I don’t know yet.
Me: Ooh! So what names have you picked out? Have you picked out any names yet?
Punk: I have a few in mind, but then I keep thinking that I don’t wanna have a kid with a normal white-kid name, so I’m thinking of Asian names like Sue or Betty.
(It seems that his Asia is not the same as my Asia.)
Me: PLEASE please don’t name your kid Madison. (I detest the name Madison, since nearly every little girl I meet is named such. The Daughter’s middle name also happens to be Madison, as is her niece’s first name.)
Awesome: Oh God! I hate that name!
Me: So, Punk, you’re in a band? Do you need like, a singer, or a dancer, or just some cute chic with huge tits to hand out CD’s? Because I could be her!
Punk: We’re actually going to need a bass playe-
Me:Ooh!!!!!! I play bass! Well, I don’t really play it, but I have one that is beautiful and purply and I am learning Run to the Hills on it, but I cannot play it fast.
Awesome: Frickin’ AWESOME song.
Me: I know!!!! So yay, it’s settled then. I shall be your new bass player.
Punk: (shrugging) Aright. I should get some scotch.
Me: Oh yes!!! Get some scotch so that I may smell it!
(At this point, Awesome and Punk both stare at me, bewildered.)
Me: I like to smell stuff, ok?
As the waitress came over, Punk asked about the different varieties of scotch that could be administered to him. I decided for him and ordered the most expensive kind. Soon after, I was sniffing scotch and Awesome and Punk were sipping it.
Punk: I don’t usually tell people this, but my friend and I started a record label.
Awesome: I love records! I have a record player, but the needle is broken.
Punk: Oh, I can get you a new one, easy.
Me: I think that I don’t know any punk.
The conversation then turned to punk music and the fact that Ronald Reagan was greatly hated amongst the Punk rock community. I surmised that this was due to the fact that Nancy Reagan guest starred on The Cosby Show. (For the record, this comment made perfect sense to my co-managers.)
Let us just say that the rest of our conversation was completely random as previously proven, and that once we arrived at the Hut, the focus did not greatly improve, despite the fact that there was a sober manager added to our group. I do believe the question about bush on strippers in the 70’s came up. All told, it was a very successful meeting.
Sparklebumpsthebookwhore 