I am the robot hater of Nancy

Was just reading this thread from a facebook post I wrote last night and thought it was kinda funny just because my responses are so absolute and read the way I felt, dead pan even as I debate badly.

Original Post:

Me: Nancy Grace should drop news and become a pro wrestler. She's completely terrifying. The serial killer she's talking about does not scare me nearly as much as she does, not even after they said, "Head found in a bucket.."

Responses:

Cousin 1: "Nancy Grace is the bomb!!! If I were ever in any kind of trouble I would definitely want her on my side."

Me: "I certainly wouldn't want to be on her bad side. I'm pretty sure she's been chiseled from marble."

Cousin 2:  "I looove nancy grace! Shes the tits."

Me: "She is the frightening, middle-aged, stone faced goddess of helmet hair.

Her favorite dish is deep fried kitten."

Best Friend: "She is the tits! Not sure what that means, but those flaring nostrels are something else. She is so passionate!"

Me: "Her nostrils flare when shes getting ready to breathe fire on her guests."

Best Friend:  "nostrils, was trying to figure out how to spell it right. She is the Dragon queen. Get on the chat."

 Apparently my dogged insistence is so powerful that he not only caved, he felt he had to talk to me first hand. Nancy Grace does scare me though.

It's Crap but you will eat it and you will LOVE IT OR ELSE!

I just ordered delivery in desperation. I am sick and I DO NOT feel like getting dressed to go get food and since my fridge is woefully empty and I couldn't take even one more call to pizza hut I ordered Dough Co. It hasn't even arrived and I'm regretful.

See for those not in the know, Dough Co. (pronounced DOKO by those who know and love) is the place you order from when all other hope is lost.. in other words, it's 2am, every other place that delivers is closed and (as in the case of my roommates) you are far too hammered to walk let alone drive, yet  MUST. HAVE. FOOD. NOW.

Dough Co. has about 953 different kinds of Calzones, like 3 types of salad, 4 cookies and 4 flavors of ice cream. That is all, nothing else, if you're hoping for breadsticks you're S.O.L. my friend. It is the typical university area dive that is frequented by the after party/bar/rave/speed addicted crowd.

The service is rude at best. Even on the phone they let you know that you are barely being tolerated and they wish you would die already so they can get back to picking their nose and kneading dough. Mostly you end up wondering if they aren't planning to add a little extra spice to your order in the form of bodily fluid of some description. You will get exactly ONE piece of pepperoni in your RONIZONE and by God you will be grateful! and when they ask what kind of dipping sauce you want, whatever you do and under no circumstances whatsoever, should you even conceive of asking what kind of sauces they have. You will be drawn and quartered and your left overs eaten by angry black crows with the red eyes that come from hell.

But I am sick, the cookies make it worth it and they deliver, until 3am.

Argghhh!

So I had to fight to get into this for about half an hour before I remembered I used a completely new and obscure email that I created just for the class this blog was originally used for.

I have also now completely forgot what I wanted to blog about which is just as well since all I want to do after the trauma of this experience is lay down, hold my teddy and suck my thumb.