-- William Gibson, All Tomorrow's Parties
<@bikepunx> anger and hatred rising
<@bda> bikepunx: Uh oh.
<@bda> bikepunx: Hey.
<@bda> So I've been ordering from Giannas a bit recently.
<@bda> And all the delivery guys are different dudes, right?
<@bda> But they all look like you.
* bda grins.
<@bikepunx> hatred rising
<@bikepunx> which giannas... south st or center city?
<@bda> South St.
<@bikepunx> i didnt even know they delivered
<@bda> For a couple months now.
<@bda> I'm just glad they're giving those alt kids jobs.
<@bda> Delivering my food gives them the training they need to be real couriers and earn their actual courier bags.
When I lived on Lombard, I used to go to Gianna's pretty regularly for lunch as it was four blocks from my apartment and I worked from home rather often. Good stuff. Their big thing is they serve actual vegan food as well as, y'know, dead things, so all the alt punk bike messenger kids go there. Along with all the people who will put up with those people so they can get some real south Philly cheesesteak tastiness. The cook while I went there was this big Italian dude, greased hair, sneer, the works. It was just so surreal it was not hard not to love the place.
They had really weird hours, though, so sometimes I'd end up walking the half block to Subway when I really wanted an actual cheesesteak.
I don't know why, but it's hilarious to me that they deliver now, keep sane hours, but their delivery guys are all courier-wannabes. They've got the threads, the piercings, the right kind of bikes, the shoes.
It's entirely possible that I'm just too easily amused.