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?

Cross-Tribal Mating Disasters (Part 1)

By some insane comedic twist of the universe, I actually dated a girl I met at one of the yuppie stockyards my straight friends always went to.  We went out four times, then simply stopped returning each other's calls: that made sense, as we had absolutely nothing to say to each other.  We were at one of the T.J. O'Mulligan-style bars, and I was sitting at the bar, drinking diet Cokes and feeling bored: it was 1998, and my friends, being in tech, were discussing the revolutionary possibilities of the World Wide Web.  (By 2002, many would be assistant managers at their local Starbucks, and happy for the work.  Their cars and furniture had already been repossessed, and now they were just happy to make rent.)  For now, their conversation both bored and irritated me --- I admit it, I was a militant Luddite when it came to personal computers, the Internet, or "any of that other digital bullshit.".  A good kitchen fire would have improved my mood, but no matter how hard you focus your mind....

Cross-Tribal Mating Disasters (Part 2)

She went in the bathroom, I unlocked my door, then remembered I needed to check messages.   (For various reasons, I had my own phone line.)  I was listening to them when she came back out of the john, walked into the middle of my room, and said in horror, "What in God's name is that?"
I looked around the room, trying to figure out what had her so startled.... And realized she was staring at my Dwarves poster, the one from the "Blood Guts & Pussy" album.
"Um, that's a poster for the Dwarves first album.  Didn't you say you graduated high school in 1990?"

Cross-Tribal Mating Disasters (Part 3)

We stepped out of my door and immediately ran into Rory the Mick, returning home from band practice, with his guitar slung over his shoulder and a bottle of Guinness in one hand.  Very brief introductions were made, and I asked him, "So who's playing at Gilman tonight, do you know?  I have no clue."
Rory said, "Ummm.....  I can't remember band names, but at least three I, like, mentally associate with OBHC, so that should give you a clue as to what the show and the music will be like.  I ain't going.  It started over an hour ago anyway."
"Yeah, but with five bands, what's the diff?  Besides, as long as you stay out of the pit, the whole OBHC thing is just plain overrated.  I know some of those guys, and they've always been mellow with me, even when they been drinking."

Inhabitants of the Friend Zone: Bombing Will Commence in Thirty Seconds

Having always harbored an intense loathing of the show "Friends," I never heard the phrase 'Friend Zone' until the series was off the air. Despite all the analysis and explanations, there are still gray areas, vague unexplained concepts of the 'Friend Zone.'

The Friend Zone (FZ for short) would seem to be similar to Nice Guy Syndrome, in that you're dealing with a guy who has a romantic or sexual interest in a girl....  But lacks that last two inches of backbone to front up with the girl and ask her out or tell her how he feels.  However, a few things separate the two.  First, there's a chance that a guy who self-defines as being in the Friend Zone may actually have laid it out to the girl he's interested in, and got shot down ("You're a sweet guy, and I do like you, just not in 'that way.'").  Personally, the guy should suck it up, accept the reality --- gosh, you have a good friend, doesn't life suck --- get over it, and move on.  Nope: they pine for the girl instead, like a Nice Guy: she'll see what a Nice Guy I am and come around.