HELL

The sad thing is that working in a restaurant should get a blogger some great writing material. A diner sits there and tells another person what he wants to eat. In this strange pseudo-Feudal world of dining, that person now has to go to the back of the restaurant and make sure the customer gets what he ordered, then bring it over to his table. Now, the diner doesn't even raise his head to acknowledge the waiter because he's talking to his wife about Tiger Woods or he's tweeting, "I'm in a restaurant. HUNGRY!!! LOL." Then at the end, he gives the guy some cash while loudly complaining to his wife that the waiter should have paid more attention to his table and that the pasta was sticky.

And here we have a blog, Even Idiots Order Pizza, that's all about making fun of this absurdity of the service industry, where for a short moment people get to DEMAND others give a damn about them. Unfortunately, the blog fails.

And I don't want to be mean here, Sam. Unfortunately, though, instead of identifying with you and telling myself, "Can't these people see there's a human being behind the notepad and under the food tray? Can't they sense a soul on the other end of the line?" I see you as a condescending whiny prick with nothing to offer but your own published self-delusions.

Let's go through the first page.

A woman calls Tech Support with a question. Sam is being an ass about it. The End.

Then, back in the restaurant, some people ask to split the check. Apparently they do it in a complicated way, although we're never told what they really wanted to do, because Sam is more interested in being a wise-ass: "Turns out I was supposed to take a tip out somewhere and do a handstand and summon the rain gods and do their taxes. Federal and state."

Next, some guy orders a small pizza, NOT REALIZING IT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY BIG! Ha! Thank God you have a fucking blog where you could write this shit!

Oh, fuck it. I'm not going any further down the page. I will do a quick search in the archives to see if there's anything good...

He's waiting on an old deaf guy who can't hear him, and then he makes fun of him. A woman enters the restaurant and asks about the beverage selection, so he describes her as an idiot. Well, looks like I've read everything I needed to read.

OK. Look. I could give you some tips about the blog. I could say the template is simple and nice, but you should probably fix the date thing on the left. And I could tell you that no one cares about labels. No one is going to say, "I wonder what his SNIPPET label is like!" You have a links tab with only one link. Whatever. Your blog is not your problem. Your life-choices and your attitude is your problem. You live in Hell, and the sad part is that you've found your way there all by yourself. And as much as I appreciate a person pointing out the absurdities of modern-life, your blog fails to do that, and worse--it only helps you stay in your Hellish self-imposed exile.

Maybe you're just very young, and subconsciously you think that being a jerk helps you distinguish yourself. Maybe you feel like writing your blog makes you better than others. Young people tend to do that. I was like that in my early twenties. High five! And look at that: I didn't go far enough in the blog to find out anything about your personal life. I don't know how old you are, where you live, what your favorite movie is, your favorite color, band, time of day, season, football team, and yet I know you live in Hell. You're burning in a lake of fire and you don't even know it. Your hatred consumes you, and you pretend to like it. You make fun of deaf people because you feel invincible, not knowing you've already suffered the worse tragedy a human being can suffer: the death of your soul.