Trail of Turds.

For the past several weeks, I have unabashedly been ordering carry out pizzas from one of the most prized Italian establishments in San Diego County -- Zappy's. Their pizzas are not only $5 each, but these masterfully leavened culinary treats are among the most delicious pizza pies I have yet to encounter. Needless to say, it's amore. In fact, I've become so fond of Zappy's menu that I've taken it upon myself to advertise their services to my neighbors, friends, local grocers, and anyone else who knows what's good for them.

Earlier this evening in an attempt to avoid writing a paper, I started sorting through my wallet, and in addition to the dozens of Zappy receipts stuffed in my coin compartment, I found a magnet from Zappy's that I had saved for promotional purposes. And, well, upon a closer examination of the contents, I was left a bit.. alarmed.

What's wrong with this picture?

Uh, yeah, looks like Zappy took a crappy.


After careful thought and consideration, I've decided I'm going to bring the magnetized fecal matter to the attention of the manager. Or at the very least, with the young chap behind the counter who, by now, has my order memorized. I'm just not quite sure how to address the issue -- "Uh, yes sir, I've noticed that there's a trail of turds on your company magnet, and while it's uh.. cute, I wonder.." Or, maybe I'll write an anonymous letter and leave it in one of their bathroom stalls. Fitting, no?

In other news, this evening's trip to Zappy's marked my fifth time this month¹ driving in the opposite direction on a one way street. And while I love the natural rush of adrenaline flowing through my pizza-coated veins, after the fourth time or so, the experience has begun to lose its adventurous appeal.

¹ the last thirty days.