The only point to me going in today was so that a certain individual could swing by and pick up some addicting entertainment for his trip this weekend.

Seriously, dude, out on International, right on McCormick, left on Wight, left again at York. No need for the headaches of ripped-apart multiple-lane closure York Road.

It’s not just for pizza guys anymore.

One of the neat little coincidences about working at the franchise is that occasionally I get to deliver to Gary’s in-laws. Or, rather, his father-in-law and his goldigger-step-mother-in-law.

I’ve never really gotten the whole story, but apparently it goes something like:

“Father-in-Law divorced Mother-in-Law for some stupid whore (whose twenty-some year old single-mother daughter babysits our children). Together, they used a lot of money to buy a farm and screw over its previous owners, then put the farm into some Federal protection program which earned ‘em a ton more $$. She’s a golddigger, we hate her, and my wife hasn’t talked to her father in XX amount of years.”

Also, something about buying a plot of land and building a house at the far end of the farm property, then the step-golddigger-mother-in-law refusing to allow permission for a dirt road and the whole plan falling apart and Gary losing a lot of cash in the deal.

Long story short, Gary doesn’t like the woman very much.

Here’s my dilemma: I do.

(She tips well.)

So tomorrow I’m going to mention I delivered to her, he’s going to retell me this whole story, and I’m just going to nod my head and lie to him and tell her she was a miserable vicious life-sucking whore who didn’t know how to tip.

Even though she gave me $5.56.

(Plus, her daughter is totally hot).