Long Time Gone

It doesn't take long in chronological time for a blog to expire as an effective communicating tool. I stopped blogging a year or so ago and I find most of my old contacts are long gone. I think that I can re-establish, but I'd rather continue in my old style and hope that I can pick up a new group of readers and writers.

For those of you unfamiliar with what I do here, you can either (1) stop reading now, (2) read some of the stuff I wrote previously, or (3) read on until you're either bored or hooked. I like to look around and comment on the ridiculous to sublime events conjured up by interaction with my workmates, classmates, and anyone else I pass along the way. Today I want to talk about my experience at Giovanni's Pizza, leaning to the sublime side.

The food at Giovanni's is surprisingly good, but no male goes there for the cuisine. The management has generously provided us with the most delectable array of pulchritude east of Hefner's mansion. I've been going there for years, but I limit myself to no more than once a month for the same reason I limit sugar intake, my body (and soul) can take it only in small doses. I don't know where they find these sirens in the backwaters of semi-rural Connecticut, but the supply seems to be unending. God seems to have created these luscious creatures for my viewing enjoyment , and I'm not going to turn up my nose at divine inspiration.

I usually go there with my friend David, who as a convinced right-wing advocate is diametrically opposed to me on most subjects but is in close allignment with my appreciation of the entertaining curvature on display. Our waitress for the day had obviously shrunk both her shirt and her jeans in the wash because there was considerable space between them, framing an adorable belly button (an innie, although she featured significant "outies" elsewhere). I suggested to David that we should measure the shirt-jeans gap to see if it set some kind of record that we could send in to Guinness, but he thought that she might take it amiss. I asked her if she was chilly, but apparently that was a non-factor in her attire planning. I myself felt no chill at all.

Another waitress leaned over the next table to reach some empty glasses, providing us with a spectacular posterior view. As she walked away I remarked to David, "Outstanding, more than memorable". David, more circumspect than I, replied "Shh, she's right behind you!" When I turned around, expecting to be chastized for my indiscrete remark, I was greeted with a knowing smile that almost melted my socks.

I love pizza.

Later