That's the last time I order anything delivered.
I am officially a freak magnet.
My pizza delivery guy last night spent twenty minutes on my front porch telling me his supposed life story. How he's not only a mathmatical genius (this came up during the change-and-tip exchange), but a big rock star--the guy who was supposed to replace David Lee Roth in Van Halen, no less--who's had amnesia since '86 because his ex-wife hired some thugs to crush his skull (or, alternatively, whose ex-wife merely knew about an outside conspiracy to crush his skull--that part was pretty murky), and who just recently found out who he was because the parents of the heiress to the Iams dog food fortune spent $10,000 on a background search because said heiress was desperately interested in dating him. David Lee Roth and Bob & Tom (of The Bob & Tom Show) are also involved in the tale of woe; apparently Diamond Dave was desperately looking for this guy to go on tour with him and Sammy Hagar, and using the Bob & Tom show to put out a call for this guy to come pick up a check for $100,000,000 (yes--one hundred million dollars) for what they owed him (it was unclear precisely what they owed him *for*, but there was some reference to a t-shirt design that evidently made the fortunes of the band--who knew? All this time I thought it was the albums.) He's also apparently the only man the Earnhardt family will ever let drive car #3 in public again, but there's some kind of conspiracy on the part of Van Halen to keep him off the NASCAR circuit for another six months or so, because there's some kind of technicality requiring that he complete his first NASCAR race by the age of 48. Oh, and "Forrest Gump" was based on his life story. I'm not really that easily spooked, but I was thoroughly wigged out by the time the guy got the hell off my porch and drove off. And my pizza was stone cold.
So I spent the rest of the night with the doors locked and my gun close at hand, because the phrase "if you can't get in the front door, go around the back" cropped up a couple of times in reference to the machinations of his Salt Lake City lawyer trying to get him his cut of Van Halen's money. It doesn't help that I live in the weird crime epicenter of Ohio, and now a certifiable nutbar has my address and phone number. Bleah.