So yesterday was my father-in-law’s birthday. Those familiar with the situation know that this means little to me. But since we had “grandpa Heap” over last month for his birthday, the wife felt compelled to invite “grandpa asshat” over. Sharing in the “festivities” were my sister-in-law (who I like) and her two sons, and my brother-in-law (who I get along with, but really despise) and his four sons (his daughter, I guess, was busy…). So the wife and I decided that we’d do what any rational, level-headed person would do in such a situation…we ordered pizza.

I’m still of the belief that the best pizza in the world can be found, not in New York, or even Italy, but San Francisco (which may relate to my irrational love of all things The City, I’ll admit). Blondie’s, for instance, gives you not only huge slices at a resonable price, but also affords one the experience of eating one’s food on the top of a garbage can, right in front of homeless people (they do have a dining room downstairs, but that’s mainly for tourists…)

My wife’s preference was always Deja Vu, in part because they delivered to our house, but it was really good pizza. The one time we actually went into the place, there was a 60 year old asian guy and a 60 year old white hippie working, which seemed totally appropriate. Once, they delivered a pizza to us with broccoli on it (I said, black olive) and didn’t charge us for it, and gave us our next one free, so that was cool.

My favorite was Mozzarella di Bufala. Not only was the pizza the absolute greasiest, tastiest ever, the place is run by a bunch of Brazilians, so they have a ton of Brazilian food on the menu which is, as the kids say, the bomb.

So, anyway, as with most food down in So. Cal. (particularly Indian food) we haven’t really found a pizza place that compares with any of the three above. Zito’s is decent, but we don’t even live in the OC anymore. The place that’s become the default pizza at our house, since moving back to Crown Town, is Marcello’s. Now it’s not great, but it’s decent, cheap and pretty close to our house.

So I roll in there yesterday to pick up our order and one of the guys says they messed up one of the pizza’s and it’ll be 10 more minutes. No big deal, less time I have to spend with people I don’t like too much. Then another guy comes out to ring up my order. I didn’t immediately recognize this guy but as soon as he takes my credit card he says, “Holy shit, it is you ‘kilian heap’ from miscellaneous private elementary school.”

And I stare at the guy…

And he stares back…

“Chris?” I say, because I really can’t place him.

“No,…” and then he says his name and I say, “Ooohhhh, right.”

What I remember about the guy is 1. we went to the same school for a number of years 2. he was a year behind me (I think, I’m pretty sure it was a year) 3. we played on the same AYSO team one year…that’s about it. I slightly remember that he was, I guess you’d say, odd.

That’s it.

If he hadn’t recognized me, I certainly wouldn’t have recognized him.

So I’m sitting there waiting for my pizza and he whips out his phone and shows me a picture of his kid, which is fine because I pull out mine and show him…

Now that’s all well and good until I (stupidly) ask if he has any more kids.

“Naw, but I have one on the way.”

“Congratulations.”

“Oh it’s not mine. I’ve been taking precautions, my girlfriend might have pulled a condom out of the trash, but that would be giving her too much credit in the intelligence department. I think she’s been f***ing some other guy.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, and she keeps complaining that I haven’t fixed her car in 6 months, but she just sits at home and doesn’t do shit. So I’m like, why the hell should I fix your car when we have other bills.”

“Right.”

See that, that’s me wishing I had either A. had the pizza delivered, or B. not asked any questions. That’ll teach me.

He talks for a while about his son, which is fine, but I can’t help comparing in my mind how much better my kid is than his. His son is a few months older than my daughter and is only starting to talk, whereas my daughter is articulating complete sentences at the age of 16 months.

It probably has a lot to do with the fact that this guy has done some serious drugs at some point. He might be sober now, I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But I’ve know WAY too many speed freaks, and he was one at some point. I’m also skeptical of any woman that would have a kid with this guy. At some point he mentioned they were living in a motel for a while. He also goes on about how he works 60 hours a week and doesn’t have time to find another job.

I finally get my order and as I’m walking out, saying “See you around,” all I can think to myself is, damn, I’m going to have to find another pizza place.

Tags: Pizza

This entry was posted on Monday, December 10th, 2007 at 12:18 pm and is filed under Absurdity of Life, Post, San Francisco, The kids. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.