Thu, 19 May 2005

trace elements remaining in the bloodstream
Every once in a while people try to engage me in arguments. I’m not sure why this is. Example: on the plane this morning this man in one of those weird panelling-looking suits where you can just peel off a dirty layer like a fruit roll-up tried to bait me that superthin east coast pizza is the way it should be. here in the midwest (rekanize, fool) people often champion the deep-dish pizza. I’m the Switzerland of pizza, and could not care less, so I thought about doing what I ususally do when I’m flying somewhere over Lake Superior and no longer want to listen to people dribble out of their mouth-holes and scream “THERE’S A MAN ON THE WING OF THE PLANE!”, but people are much less understanding of such stunts lately. Instead, I took this as an opportunity to work on my diplomacy skills. “The key to good pizza ain’t the crust,” I tell him. “It’s the meat. You have to make your own meat. And not muscle-meat, no. The skin. Use the skin. The skin is where an animal keeps its soul, and the souls of dead animals is where flavor comes from.” This used to be enough to bother people so that they’d be quiet, but he just shrugged it off and said “That’s what I like about you people out here, you’re so quaint”, so I had to stab him in the thigh repeatedly with my fingernail clippers (legal again!) until he shut his fat fucking mouth. Tomorrow, I promise, I’m going to work on my diplomacy some more.
(12:14.05.19.2005) [/ana] #