Today’s soundtrack: I’ll never be, your beast of burden
Today at 9:32pm: Scarfing Tate.


Hot damn! I just ripped The Rolling Stones’ “Forty Licks.” How hot is this shit, two discs. It’s a gas gas gas.

The other night I was moseying around town looking for night shots. For some reason I wandered into Two Boots on Bleecker Street. See ‘cause my pineapple spot was out of pineapples so I got kind of discombobulated and was walking home empty-handed. I don’t remember what time it was but it was dark out, it was dark.

You know how when you play a fighting game on Playstation or whatever, each character has a “power meter” on the top of the screen that shows how much energy they have? I have a Pineapple Meter and right now it is very, very low. It’s all red, not much green left. That’s not good my friends.

So Two Boots is an atypical pizzeria. They make all sorts of weird and interesting pizzas and it’s just become one of those places where you take your friends from out of town when they ask “Hey where can we get some only-in-New-York type of food?”

I started reading their little delivery menu and was amazed and delighted to see my apartment was in the Delivery Zone. Being in the Delivery Zone is important, there was a whole episode of Seinfeld about it. Most places have a little map on the back of their takeout menu and my apartment is always off the fucking page.

So I folded it up and stuffed it in my pocket. I am improving the quality of my life, one delivery menu at a time.

Today in Hapkido my partner was this biiiiiig Asian guy. I think he’s half-Japanese and half Linebacker. Anyways he’s new and he doesn’t really know his own strength. We took turns taking each other down so now my arms are killing me. He’s the kind of big where like, if we were a cartoon he would accidentally rip my arms off and not notice and later he would walk home with my arms sticking out of his coat pockets. Motherfucker was big.

So now I have all these weird bruises on my arm. Like little cranberries under the surface of the skin. They will go away in two days and I will forget all about them, until the next time I have to work out with Asian Linebacker Guy.

When I got home from Hapkido I was so hungry I was shaking. I threw the laundry in the wash then went through my nightly ritual of agony: What to do for dinner. Do I want to eat alone, do I want to eat with people, should I cook, go out, get delivery.

Wait a sec Two Boots Two Boots! I’m in the Delivery Zone, booyakasha. Their pizzas are named after famous people and I ordered the “Larry Tate.” The “Larry Tate” is a ricotta pizza served with spinach, plum tomatoes and roasted garlic. Also the crust is so good it makes the bread at Cosi taste like stale end rinds. And for a pizza it’s remarkably non-greasy, almost healthy-tasting.

Well...I was all excited when I started writing this entry because I just finished a “Larry Tate.” But now I’ve digested it and my mood’s come back down. There are some heavier things going on besides take-out menus and bruised arms but I’m not in the mood to type it up right now.

Tonight is not a good night for dealing with Larger Issues. I think tonight is a good night for me to clean my desk and maybe shake up a few glasses of frothy orange juice. Then around 11pm I’m gonna walk over to the pineapple spot and see if these bastards have my product yet.