Paul Simon, Death Threats, Missile Launchers and Pizza Delivery.

Pizza delivery can be a pretty tough job. Alright, I’m lying, no it can't. Pizza delivery is, by far, the most mindless, skilless job an unambitious person could ask for. Which of course makes it perfect for me. There are some slight drawbacks, however. Driving incredibly greasy junk food to the masses can be a bit mind numbing and to cope with this the mind tends to wander, and sometimes goes to interesting areas. Noticing this, I decided it would be a good idea to keep track of the shit that passes through my head for a few nights and writing them on the back of tickets. Besides discovering that writing while driving at the same time is probably not too wise, I also discovered that I have an unhealthy view on, well, everything. Just see for yourself:

1. My newfound discovery of The New Pornographer's AC Newman's lisp has made their song "July Jones" unlistenable. I seriously think the title should be changed to "July Jonths"

2. Steve Miller Band is music for people who don't really like music. His music is safe enough for mass appeal and its constant air time on “classic rock” stations gives the illusion that Steve Miller is an incredibly important musician. Fact is he isn’t. Steve Miller is for people who listen to “the classics” but are, for the most part, largely out of touch with music. “But Kris,” you say, “Steve Miller is so damn talented.” And so is the man who can do a handstand gargling “Stars and Stripes Forever,” but that doesn’t make it worth listening to. Of course, the modern equivalent of Steve Miller is Dave Mathews, but that’s a whole article in itself.

3. People who give crappy tips but are really friendly are incredibly aggravating. Nothing is worse than coming up to a smiling face and a “How are you, great night tonight, eh?” and then leaving with thirty-seven cents.

4. The release of Paul Simon's album Graceland marks the point where world music became popular in the mid 1980s. Because of this, Paul Simon should be killed.

5. As a child, I had incredibly crappy taste in, well, everything. In 1997, I thought Joel Schumacher’s Batman & Robin was great and I owned the single for Puff Daddy and Jimmy Page’s “Come With Me” (Luckily, I had enough sense to know that Godzilla was terrible). Actually, I think my taste was fine and then hit a sharp decline when I turned eleven. When I was very young I liked Star Wars and Ghostbusters; then, all of a sudden I started to listen to No Limit, wore Jncos, and watched fucking Independence Day.

6. Not enough games rely on lives and continues anymore, it’s all save points and big open ended worlds. I want more bottomless pits and water that kills me with my car jackings and digitized school shootings.

7. Theory: There is at least one Subway restaurant within every square mile of the country. Even in the middle of Nebraska, I bet there is a solitary Subway sitting in the center of a massive cornfield.

8. The two things which make my heterosexuality suspect are my man-crush on Morrissey and my obsession with Williams-Sonoma. I can’t help it; I love asexual animal rights activists and overpriced cookware.

9. I've never delivered pizza to an Asian person. I wonder what that means.

10. There is a little girl on Mardean Street who refuses to tip me and seems to get great deal of pleasure out of watching me fish 46 cents out of my pocket. She is my arch-enemy, and one day I will kill her with a sock full of change.

11. Rhapsody's “Symphony of Enchanted Lands” is 2006’s Album of the Year despite being released seven years ago

12. I feel like I should have a cannon mounted onto my car in order to blow competing company's pizza drivers off the road. Ideally, delivering pizza would be like Twisted Metal but with less hook-handed cab drivers.

13. On 7/14/06 I couldn't stop thinking about Ronnie James Dio, but only to the extent of his name repeatedly popping into my head. Were I in the climax of Ghostbusters, a giant Ronnie James Dio would have appeared and destroyed the world with an Earth shattering rendition of "Holy Diver." He would also be dressed like a Viking.

14. The quickest route to depression is to listen to my mix CD entitled "Summer's Dead" while delivering pizza on a Friday night in July.

15. People are most vulnerable when they are peeing. If you need to attack someone, do so while they are relieving themselves. However, such a move does have a high risk of you being peed on in the process.

16. Bowling alleys should only be allowed to play slow depressing jazz. I think it would increase beer sales, and it's sure as hell better than the shit that they play in there now.

17. Black people have a strange affinity towards giant stuffed tigers in their homes and I don’t know why.

18. Chesapeake, Virginia must have the largest population of Insane Clown Posse fans in the nation. And they are all suburban, lower middle class, male white kids with baggy clothes and facial piercings who date girls named Crystal who was pregnant when she was sixteen.

19. Out of all the words in the English language, “hackneyed” is the most pretentious. Its general meaning and the fact that it is not commonly found in colloquial speech make it irresistible to English majors, scenesters, and college know-it-alls (See “College Kids” entry). Closely following “hackneyed” in is “ennui,” for the same reasons; and it’s French to boot. You know, this might just be a tie.

20. Who buys Girls Gone Wild videos?

21. Those tiny motorcycles which people ride around are the nerdiest form of transportation. If you aren’t familiar with what I’m talking about, these tiny motorcycles are exactly what they sound like: they are like full sized motorcycles which have been hit by that shrinking ray from that Rick Moranis movie. When a full sized adult rides one down the street it essentially looks like they stole their child’s Kawasaki Ninja power wheels to go to the mall.

22. I wonder if there is an Israeli Dental Association.

23. I went to a Starbucks earlier and ordered a Grande Non-Fat Sugar-Free Iced Vanilla Latte and felt that a part of me had died in the process.

Trips to the Beach Built on the Shoulders of Paper Mache Dinosaurs and Ellis Island

There’s a thin stretch of beach off the coast of North Carolina that goes by many names. Sailors of the 19^th century called it the graveyard of the Atlantic (copyright David Stick 1952); wayward vacationers call it the Outer Banks; some call it the OBX because, goddamn, abbreviations and the letter ‘X’ are too hip to resist; and the rest call it Nags Head even though Nags Head is only one of the ten other towns on the strip. Regardless of what you call the place, I call it Nags Head, this hot vacation spot and I have a rocky relationship.

It’s a scientific fact that every living soul in the North Carolina tri-state area holds Nags Head in such high regard that outsiders may very well think it is the resting place for the lost ark, the Holy Grail and those glowing rocks that let the Indian guy rip out the dude’s heart. Shit, even I do it. For being so vocally against the place, I still find myself singing its praises to those less enlightened and I don’t know why I do it. I don’t like going to the beach, I don’t really like seafood, and I don’t fish but I’ve been to the place nine-million fucking times. It’s like repeatedly sleeping with a girl you don’t even like and not being able to stop yourself. It’s horrible. But, being the amateur social scientist that I am, I returned once again to analyze the place that I both adore and detest.

It’s obvious that the main draw for Nags Head is the water. It is an inarguable fact that humans are drawn to water, to the point that it’s not even worth discussing. But what makes this water so incredibly special? If there were some sort of beach beauty pageant, Nags Head would not only win the contest, it would also win Miss Congeniality, the swimsuit competition, and the viewers fucking choice award. The beaches aren’t combed, there’s no boardwalk, and there isn’t anyone waking you up to ask if you want your goddamn picture taken. See? It’s happening again. I sound like I’m on the Nags Head street team and I’m not even trying. But there is a growing seed of commercialization that threatens to kill the uncultivated charm of the place. For every old house that the sea destroys every Hurricane season another bright yellow Sunsation building is built in its wake right next to an Applebee’s.

The place has some odd quirks as well, and I think this is what I enjoy most about it. Like every other beach community, there are several hundred mini-golf courses but none quite as peculiar as the ones in Nags Head. There are your typical pirate and beach themed courses; I mean come on, those are too obvious to not exist. But where does a course that’s main feature is a gigantic neon green T-Rex poised on a volcano/waterfall that looks as if it is about to eat putters if they fuck up on their first stroke fit in? Or another that is so heavily “influenced” by Star Wars that the obstacles should have “copyright LucasArts” painted all over them to avoid lawsuits. Even the aforementioned “beachy” themed courses are closing in favor of just flat out weird shit, like a pirate one that turned into an epic cave exploration quest complete with 50 foot tram ride. I suppose any place that boldly features giant spaceships crashed into a volcano (Volcanoes are big in mini golf in general, I’ve noticed) gains points with anyone.

Another oddity which Nags Head boldly features is their secret immigrant work force. But these immigrants don’t even have the 21^st century flare of being Mexican. Nags Head apparently continues to kick it old school by pawning off the work nobody else wants to do to 15 to 20 year old Eastern European girls, just like the good old days. Most every item of food I was sold was given to me accompanied by an eerily deep voice coming from the emaciated frame of a 12 year old girl named Sonja. You just don’t see shit like this anywhere else. I didn’t even know how to react. Why a beach town in North Carolina? Why? Why would what seems like hundreds of girls from the former USSR want to work in Nags Fucking Head? But I suppose it’s better to the number one job for under aged Yugoslavian girls in America, which is, of course, amateur porn. Which leads me to wonder if Nags Head has a large underground amateur porn ring that I don’t know about. All the better if it did, I say.

Despite my constant insistence that I hate Nags Head, all I can do is talk about how awesome it is. I simply cannot stop. Please help me.