I'll Stay in the Dark Ages

Tonight we had pizza. Ordered-in pizza. Ordered on the internet. I had read all about how amazing and futuristic it is. So there I was, super excited. I was prepared with a song, even. (Later I discovered that there is no song by Rob Thomas called Future World. Even more disappointment. There's only so much disappointment a girl can take regarding her futuristic pizza in one night.)

I was humming away as we went to the website. Well, the first sign of trouble should have been the computer wasn't loading the site. It is always a bad sign when your computer disagrees with your decisions. We finally figured out where to go (they make it waaaaay too complicated) and the computer had apparently forgiven us for our bad decision making.

Then we get to chosing toppings. Besides being very confusing there were very few choices. Less than over the phone. At least it seemed that way. Maybe writing them all out like that made them seem small and insignificant. But still, when you have more choices about the kind of sauce you want than toppings, something's gotta be off.

We prevailed. We placed our order. Or so we thought. Then there was a page of info about delivery. (How many times do they want you to say they are going to deliver to a HOUSE?) And then payment info. And then confirmation. And then confirmation of the confirmation. And confirmation of the confirmation of the confirmation. (I may be exaggerating a little bit here, getting a little carried away with typing confirmation. It's a fun word to type, in my defence. Confirmation.)

The computer had mostly forgiven us for our bad, bad decision making by then, or maybe it realized we were already aware of our bad decision making. The page loaded. And that was it. (No progress tracker or anything. Clearly, we chose the wrong company.)

Half an hour our pizza arrived. Very good pizza. That I will, from now on, be ordering over the phone. Becuase I would prefer to stay in the Dark Ages, thank you very much. No more futuristic pizza for me.