So I'm on my weekly foray into the wilds of the Pearl District at the moment, in search of fresh produce and pretentious dolts to mock, and there's no shortage of either.
Case in point: I'm grabbing a slice of pizza at Hot Lips, and the guy behind me asks loudly whether that pizza there has.*prosciutto* bacon or not. It's very important, apparently, that we all realize what a discerning foodie he is. It's a real shame (for him) that bacon and prosciutto are two different things. Similar, but not the same -- both are tasty and non-identical parts of the modern world's glorious rainbow-o-pork. Hence he had to repeat the question (loudly) to a confused counter person a few times before she realized what he was asking and said "no". So then he had to play food snob and haughtily decide not to get a slice of pizza after all. I realize I would probably qualify for lots of snob points myself here, if I wanted them, I mean, making fun of someone for not knowing what prosciutto is, how snobby is that? But in my own defense, it's not the not knowing that's so funny, it's that he pretended he *did* know, and left thinking he'd really gotten one over on the woman behind the counter. Stupid poser. Probably from California. Did I mention this guy was about 5'6", tops? The woman behind the counter was about a head taller, and probably that fed in to his behavior as well.
The pizza is delicious, btw, even without any "prosciutto bacon". The guy really missed out on a good thing here.
One more thing and we're done with whatsisname there. What is it with people wearing flip-flops around when they aren't at the beach? This is actually not a snarky rant here. I honestly just don't understand how they do it. My arches and toes would be screaming obscenities at me nonstop if I tried that. Maybe theirs do as well, but they're willing to suffer for fashion and I'm not. I mean, if you consider flip-flops fashion and all.
Right now there's a tv crew filming the market outside, so I'm holed up here for a while until they leave. Shouldn't be too long. Those people aren't known for long attention spans, or so the stereotype goes. Staying off tv is harder than you might think. I dodged the cameras at Reservoir 3 on Monday, and now this. I'm just here for the loganberries. Why can't anyone understand that? Also, tv makes me look fat. IMHO.
I realize I'm technically on the clock right now, but nothing goes with pizza like a nice cold beer, and I believe firmly in the strict separation of the blogosphere and the workosphere: I don't talk in any significant or useful detail about work here, and I don't mention this blog to coworkers. Ok, sometimes I've been known to post from work, but not *about* work. It's not that interesting of a topic for blogging anyway, quite honestly.
And no, if I decide to change jobs at some point, I'm not going to say a word about this blog. It's not about work, so it's none of their business. This current trend of googling job applicants to try to dig up "dirt" on them will only end in tears, I'm sure of it. Some clueless HR bozo will reject an applicant after googling and finding out something they aren't allowed to ask during an interview -- religion, perhaps, or a disability -- and there will be a huge lawsuit, and a 7+ figure payout, and every human resources manager in the country will have to go to expensive new seminars to learn just where the red lines are. Mark my words.
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless handheld
Updated:
Yes, I do realize that blogging about pretentious twits via Blackberry® is, itself, not entirely untwittish. I'm aware of that, and thanks for noticing.
The TV news crew was still out there when I left, so they might've caught me on film after all, the bastards. The fact that they hadn't left yet probably means nobody drowned in the Sandy River today, and there haven't been any lurid shootings out in Rockwood yet (although the night's still young). So there's that, anyway.
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