The Hell is Wrong With Me?

Yesterday, for the first time in...geez, maybe ever, I actually missed working at Jake's Stadium Pizza. I was putting clothes away and saw my bazillion, neglected Jake's shirts hanging there--in a color-coordinated spectrum, of course. It's been about a month since the last time I worked a shift; but upon seeing the shirts, I was rushed by an olfactory wave of char and raw sausage.

Now, normally I miss the great peeps workin' at Jake's. Here's a short list in unprioritized order: Scotty "Mobile Mannor" Feit, Schmitzurugi, Son-Son GZA-mon, Inferior-Link-Kevin--even Idiot High School Girl who one day contimplated the pepper balls in a slice of salami and asked, "Is this where pepper comes from?" and another day asked, "Did cavemen really exist or were they like the dinosaurs?" She deserves her own entire post. But not today.

I always miss these people, but yesterday I missed the shit storm work. Sweat mixing with scalding pizza grease, flour-dusted spectacles, pepperoni char, and hands endlessly smelling of sausage. I missed the Jake's I know which is bascially the exact opposite of this picture:

I work in twenty minutes for the first time in a month--in fact, I'll probably be late because of this post. Let's see whether I miss Jake's after a normal Shit Storm Sunday.

Mace...out