Fun With Pizza (Part 7: Random Chunks)

Note:

Any of the "Random Chunks" entries will break from my usual narrative, which would have an overarching subject or theme.  These really are just.... Random chunks, small anecdotes from the job that were funny/strange/sad/odd enough to warrant writing down, but too small for their own entry.  Just thought I'd explain.

Fun With Pizza (Part 6: More Greek Tragedies)

Tits!
Dude, TITS!!

Mammalian protuberances.  One of the great motivators for members of the Greek Fraternal system.

Several years of delivery in Berkeley had me convinced that all frat boys had been bottle babies.  They didn't have the standard appreciation for nice-looking breasts that heterosexual men have in general: you sneak a peek, think "Hmm, very nice," and go about with the rest of your day, the moment only lasting a few seconds.  For the fraternity brothers, it seemed to be a nearly pathological fascination.  Any girl displaying even a modest amount of decolletage would prompt "Whoa!"s and "Damn!"s and be a subject of discussion for several minutes, long after the girl had gone.  Their media intake, in any form, was influenced by whether there were visible breasts: frat boys would be rabid fans of Ingmar Bergman if Bergman had thrown in some random tit-shots.  Budweiser promotional ephemera is everywhere in a frat house, as the posters, cut-outs etc. contain both breasts and alcohol!

Fun With Pizza (Part 5 - Greek Tragedies)

"Brah!"

"Brah!"

"Hey brah!  Izzat our pizza?"

Well, girdle, give me your fucking name and I can tell you.  There's fifty of you clowns living in this monument to watery beer and date rape, it's a Saturday night, and there's just the tiniest chance someone besides you ordered.  Okay, it is yours.  You pay up, then I give you the pizza.  Because that's how I do things, that's why.  You really want an explanation?  You want me to stand here and explain why I'm treating you with surly distrust while your pizza grows cold?  You can't figure it out for yourself?