Hey! Where the #$%@'s my Root Beer?!!!!

I would like to open this weeks entry with a preemptive apology, last week I hinted at a trip my amigos and I were taking south of the border. The Foretold Fiesta did happen, however I have something I need to get off my back; so the chronicling of our quest for queso will have to wait for next week.

For the past year or so, I have had an insatiable hunger for Domino's Oven Bakes Sandwiches. Some may ponder my loyalty to the brand after the disgusting debacle involving their sandwiches and employee body parts. The two reasons I continue to order from this establishment is as follows;
1. They deliver to my house, where Jimmy Johns won't; apparently I am like 2 blocks off the delivery route, and countless drunken bribes at 2am haven't changed their distribution area.
2. 2009 I spent countless hours tethered to my computer battling the forces of evil in and around Azeroth, preventing me from getting up and making dinner (luckily I stopped hitting that pipe (for the time being)).

Please don't begrudge me this beef, I know we talked about a pizza joint last week; but this post has less to do with the quality of the product and more a story of love, betrayal and revenge. Lets start from the beginning, I have an original print Episode IV poster framed and hanging in the foyer of my house. For the better half of '09 Lloyd would always deliver my order, prompt, accurate and boy was it tasty. Every time I opened the door he got this goofy glazed look grew on his face and out popped the question "is that real?" The first time I was honored by his inquest and answered honestly and we chatted about it for a few minutes. My flattery turned to frustration and I started taking it out on this poor SOB with sarcasm, "no it's a holigram", "these are not the droids you are looking for (slam the door)", etc. Lloyd never delivered another pizza to my house, but seems I hadn't yet won, the war between Lloyd and Matt had just begun.
Let me set the stage quick, domino's has a pizza tracker; after you order, it is a web app that tracks the creation, packaging and delivery of your purchase. Carl was my new "delivery expert", but to my dismay Lloyd was the man behind the sandwich, my concern grew. Carl struck first by omitting my root beer from the delivery, I questioned his decision and he said he would bring me one on his next delivery. HE LIED! no root beer was ever delivered, I was out 1.49. I translated my thirst into a few choice words to the establishment via email, and was rewarded with a coupon for a free Bread Bowl Pasta. I had never ordered a Bread Bowl, why would I want a free one; anger fermented inside of me.
Weeks later I decided to order again, Carl, my new nemesis was again chosen by Lloyd to deliver my sandwich, chips and root beer. Alas he again he failed to bring my beverage, this time he offered to bribe me with a pathetic two dollars. I accepted his offering only to realize later that I had tipped him three dollars putting me in the hole, still with no root beer. Again I complained and again was appeased with an unwanted coupon for a bread bowl. I vowed to never order again, Domino's, but more importantly Lloyd and Carl would no longer be a part of my life.
I have never believed in Karma, but even pizza delivery boys shouldn't mess with forces stronger than themselves. Late November I was sitting at my friend Jamies when an insatiable hunger crept over me. I broke my vow and ordered; I decided to give the noid another shot. I ordered a Dr. Pepper to disguise my order, and much to my surprise Lloyd and Carl came through! I opened the door and to my surprise Lloyd was back, thrown off by the change of address a look of shock washed over his face like high tide during a full moon. I chuckled in side, I had won! These two dictators of delivery had been overthrown by a simple change of address. I was my joy was immediately interrupted when there arose such a clatter from out side the door. I ran and peered out to see old "Double L" laying at the bottom of the stairs, he quickly arose and said he was fine. I was glad he was ok, but part of me wished I would have seen his tumble; it would have made up for the 2 root beers he still owed me.
Long story short, I decided to order again figuring we were all square. The war was over and the three of us could start fresh our relationship of supply and demand. Low and behold Lloyd shows up with my sandwich, chips, root beer and a full arm cast. Karma's a bitch Lloyd. I realized that I had won, historians shall remember this as The Laramie Root Beer War!

Tune in next week for the as promised, "QDoba Quagmire."

The smart never eat too when at a dinner party, the wise never say too much when at a dinner party; I've accomplished neither.

Did you say Salad Bar?

I did, but before I get to the tasty stuff; here is a little info about Laramie in case you were wondering. Located about 50 miles west of Cheyenne sits Laramie Wyoming. Home of The University of Wyoming, Laramie boasts a population of just under 30,000. Surrounded by the pristine wilderness of the Snowy Range Mountains and Vedauwoo national forest it is easy to over look the excitement that awaits within the city limits....

Excitement, in Laramie? Yeah you heard me, lets dive right into our first foray into the epicurean wonders this minuscule mountain municipality has to offer. Last week my P.I.C. (Steve Hansen) and I were invited to dine at the big red roof; one of Laramies most respected establishments. It was just after noon, and not a chair was empty except for the small corner table reserved for their distinguished guests. I was immediately struck by the simplicity of the red and white checkered vinyl table cloth adorned with half empty parmesan and hot pepper shakers. I was put at ease when greeted by the flour caked maître d' with beard to match. Any hesitation was put to a halt when we caught the aroma of endless potential, laid out before us was an italian spread Tony Soprano would have been jealous of. Pizza, Pasta, Breadsticks and did i mention a salad bar?

My first course was a garden salad, the subtle nuances of the fresh iceberg battling the tangy banana pepper really wet my appetite for something more substantial. I was almost moved to tears when I got to the pizza buffet and realized there was no meat lovers. Any connoisseur of this classic spot knows they are famous for putting the things you love on their pizza; meat, veggies, cheese, just to name a few. To my chagrin the crust was thin and the toppings were terrible. Dismay followed me like toilet paper on the sole of my shoe. I got back to work with a stomach ache from physical realization that the salad wasn't as fresh as advertised and that i smelled like we ate in the kitchen.

A disappointing buffet is similar to the hopes and dreams of a recent college graduate. Bursting at the seams with potential, stuffed to the brim with high hopes only to realize they graduated during a recession and are now serving thin crust sausage and olive pies to their equally chapfallen customers.

Next Week - My Courageous Comrade and I venture "south of the border" to take on a well known yet often over looked establishment.

eat to feel good, don't eat because you feel bad (this also applies to drinking and maybe knitting).

Matt