Pizza Entitlement

If you have to make fun of a class of people, please make sure you’re right about every single one of them.

As an example, let’s take a look at a recent incident in which, on a popular social media platform, an individual derided those who had never ordered a pizza… He commented something along the lines of that he couldn’t believe an actual adult human had never picked up a phone and ordered delivery… because obviously not having ever ordered pizza is the lament of the social pariah.

Okay, folks. As you may have already guessed, I have never ordered a pizza. I may have eaten pizza, but it did not arrive in my mouth due to my ordering of it from a restaurant. My reasons are threefold:

• I was allergic to milk (and therefore, cheese) until I was 24 years old. (I’ll give you a moment to let that sink in…) Therefore, I would have had no reason to order a pizza for well over half my life, but even so…
• I suffered a traumatic room service incident when I was 23. I was on my first honeymoon (shut up), and I wanted to order the conch chowder. That was all well and good, but as soon as the order-taking person answered the phone, I realized that I didn’t know how to pronounce the word conch. What was I to do? Should I say I want the chowder, and hope they realize I don’t want the clam chowder? Do I cough as I’m trying to say the word, and hope they say the word, and I can just say, “yeah, that’s it”? Nope. I hung up the phone and told my ex that he’d better order me my soup and a few more bottles of the resort-standard champagne. Which brings me to my next point…
• Boys are supposed to order the pizza. And the wine. And the everything. To be clear, I’m not a feminist. I’m a strong, iron-willed woman. I’ve been fiercely independent and self-reliant for most of my adult life. However, I need to be with a man who is strong enough and who knows me well enough to tell me what I want and who also has the wherewithal to give it to me. And that includes ordering the damn pizza. Just as long as it’s not (yuck) pepperoni.

Does this make sense? No. Should I be able to order a pizza? Yes.* What am I scared of, really? Okay, what if they ask me what kind of cheese I want on the pizza? I mean, what am I supposed to say? Pizza cheese… normal pizza cheese? What the hell is pizza cheese? What if they ask about what kind of sausage I want? I don’t know. The good kind? WHAT IF THEY ASK IF I WANT THE BLACK OLIVES ON THE RIGHT HALF OR THE LEFT HALF OF THE PIZZA? HOW IS THIS SUPPOSED TO GO?

In conclusion, and I’m not ashamed to admit it… I probably could order a pizza, but my silly, entitled ass feels like I shouldn’t have to do it myself.

* Disclaimer:  I can “order” a pizza at Little Caesar’s by grunting and pointing at a box right behind Randy’s** head.

** All Little Caesar’s employees are named Randy.



Disruptive Lifehacks

If you have to talk about hacking, I have to assume you mean the coughing you do due to the little tickle in the back of your throat. Your technology isn’t “disruptive,” your little life workarounds aren’t “hacks,” and–holy shit–you aren’t coming up with “disruptive hacks.”

It’s not a breakfast hack to mix sausage and eggs together. It doesn’t matter if you put the mixture in a muffin pan. That ain’t new, it ain’t particularly innovative, and my grandma has been making breakfast casserole for years. YEARS. And don’t make a three minute video of you putting strawberries and kiwi on top of some cream cheese and act like your ass has just managed to solve the problem we all seem to have when we can’t figure out how the hell we can shove more sugar and calories down our throats.

The mere fact that you’ve cut the bottom off of a 20 oz. water bottle and are now using it as a funnel does not mean that you’ve done a “LIFE HACK ZOMG WATER BOTTLE!!!!1!” and we should all watch your video on YouTube. (The only thing you’ve hacked, you simpleton, is your finger while trying to use a pocketknife to cut the damn bottle.)

“#disruptoutlook” is an inappropriate hashtag to use when you’ve made the SHOCKING discovery that you can use rules to direct emails that contain the subject line “Girl Scout cookies” directly into your Trash folder. …Congratulations. You’ve just pointed out something the rest of humankind has been doing for hundreds of thousands of years.

Somebody else has already come up with the idea to put a plastic bag around the E. coli-covered remote control in the hotel room, so just relax–and maybe Google your amazing revelations before proclaiming yourself a genius.