… is my life.

No seriously. The bull shit that happens to me is really unbelievable. Or maybe not totally unbelievable, but just happens too often to be believable.

As I am back in Syracuse, there were two crucial things on my to do list. They were:

1. Leah’s Sunflower Chicken Salad Sandwhich from A La Mode

2. Vegan Burrito from Alto Cinco.

I was able to do work on number one this afternoon on my way to Home Depot to buy paint. After an exhausting/productive day of painting my room. I decided an appropriate award would be to check off number 2.

After about 14 unanswered calls (and I do not exaggerate on this number), I decided to drive to Alto Cinco and confront them on their poor phone skills. Frustrated that I have to leave the house covered in paint (literally, my eyelashes have paint on them), I drive by Alto Cinco only to see that THEIR LIGHTS ARE OFF AND CHAIRS UP ON TABLES.

WHAT.

Pissed off I come home and order chicken fingers and curly fries from Acropolis.

20 minutes later my phone rings. I answer – guy says “Hi I have a pizza delivery at I think I’m at your door.” Strange way to let someone know that information but I ignore that and open the front door.

Delivery boy (pretty decent looking) proceeds to give me my food and I pay (and give a generous tip for his humor) he says thank you and ads on a “so what are you girls doing tonight.”

I’m sorry what.

After we giggle and say hanging out he invites us to come to his house and then to a party on Comstock.

He says just come over to which I say – and say what, oh hi you delivered my food? (slightly degrading and offensive, but thats honestly what I would have said because – what. what are you doing.)

He then WHIPS out a piece of paper and says, “well ya know what..”

and POINTS to the DELIVERY SLIP and says while pointing:

“Thats your name. And thats your number.”

OH! DONT WORRY! THATS NOT CREEPY AT ALL!

What?! WHAT THE HELL?! WHO TOLD HIM THIS WAS OK TO DO!?

Honestly, at what point in his life did someone say, if you ever are delivering food to a cute girl, it is totaly reasonable to dig out her name and number from the delivery slip, because, hey, you already know where she lives. This way you can REALLY stalk the shit out of her.

Thank god for Syracuse. You never fail to be the sketchiest place on earth.

peace, love, and stalkers,

natalie marie.