And I can't get up
I fell down the stairs again tonight. It seems that everytime I order pizza I get so excited that I run out to get it and miss that last step. As that last step is right outside my apartment but a long way before the door, I have to limp down the underground corridor towards the door like a hunchback. Boy that feels ghetto.
Maybe it's because my favorite pizza parlor (Seranos) takes an hour to deliver I get so excited by the time it actually gets here I get tripped up. Or maybe it's because there are three pizza parlors within two blocks of my house that it's only when I am too drunk to walk that far that I order pizza.
Either way, when you're ankle is in a sling, the pizza tastes all the better.
Maybe it's because my favorite pizza parlor (Seranos) takes an hour to deliver I get so excited by the time it actually gets here I get tripped up. Or maybe it's because there are three pizza parlors within two blocks of my house that it's only when I am too drunk to walk that far that I order pizza.
Either way, when you're ankle is in a sling, the pizza tastes all the better.
2 Comments:
At 2:29 PM, Mrs. Fletcher said…
Tard!
The problem with turning on the comments for these posts is that you just leave yourself open to being openly called a tard, rather than people secretly saying it behind your back.
What you need is a remote control to hang around your neck, with buttons that automatically open and close the gate for you.
At 7:56 AM, Dennis Christie said…
I prefer to refer to Camper as a "fucktard".
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