Dad's in Northam for the evening, and Mum's at a girls' night out, so I'd made arrangements with my country conservative friend to get a pizza and rent Underworld (I) cos I hadn't seen it. I refuse to eat Dominoes now that I've been reminded of how utterly repulsive it is, so there was mention of Pizza Haven.

Come evening, said friend has not turned up. I call him to ask 'wtf?' and it turns out he clean forgot and is knackered. I sulk around the house for a while, debate randomly crashing people's places because I do actually have a car available, and decide to order the pizza anyway.

I dig around on-line for a menu and find much to my surprise that there is a Pizza Haven in my suburb (on the Other Side of the Tracks, you understand) and give them a ring.

"Sam" answers my call; she doesn't sound a day over 15 and clearly has the "it's my second day" kind of jitters.

The request of "Italian classic with pineapple" (note: a pizza type that does not usually have pineapple. I did forage in the cupboards for pineapple to add myself, but alas) was stumbled over a bit, but once we'd (read: I) had figured out there was an Order to how phone number, contact name and THEN address was asked for and given, things were fine. I was utterly charmed, to the point where it totally managed to destroy my developing bad mood and I was willing to overlook the rather *blink* *BLINK* delivery charge on an otherwise reasonably priced pizza.

So now I await my pizza and I'm going to eat in front of either the TV (Some episodes of Buffy perhaps, or maybe the educational things on the mythology of race on the ABC) or maybe even my laptop, if BSG 2x15 continues to download at its rather impressive rate.
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