Which side of the saddle do you think Lance Armstrong's remaining testicle rests on?
B-Day celebraesh come and gone. Down at Arinell at 16th and Valencia I didn't get the considerate birthday treatment I deserved. I ordered a regular slice and a Sicilian. The guy said, "Do you want a piece from the side or the middle?" Eyeing the suspiciously blackened pizza, I pointed to the least incinerated piece, which happened to be in the pristine vein of pie* and which, therefore, would have necessitated this pizza professional to abandon his precious slice-extraction order and create an aesthetically displeasing gap in the pie. "Ordering like a girl!" he sneered. My friend, who has a phobia of public rebuke unless he's the one making an asshole out of himself, immediately took the side of the pizza guy, making a comment to the effect of, "How dare you undermine the authority of the pizza slicer? How could you possibly be so demanding?" Completely taken aback by this onslaught of ill will, I muttered to myself for a moment before telling my friend never again to take the side of the pizza man in a dispute of this nature. Damn pizza man. Jackass. Don't burn the fucking pizza next time, you metal-thrashing heroin addict (it's common knowledge to me that, historically, the oven tenders at this little Mission establishment have a propensity to mainline black tar). I'm the customer, I'm always right, and I want a non-burned piece of fucking pizza, you miserable wretch.
*He had been slicing down the left "column" of the two-columned rectangular pie, so his request boiled down to, did I want a slice toward the middle of the left column or a new "border" slice from the top of the right column?