Daily Staff Writer

Oh, now, you call. For an hour I’ve been sitting here, waiting, and worrying. You said you would call by 8:30, it’s 8:45, for the love of God! How was I to know you weren’t lying in a ditch some-where passed out or dead? Don’t make me call the cops and the hospitals to see if you’re OK. So now what? I’m supposed to pick up the phone lickity-split? I’m not your bitch, Mister! You can just live with the anticipation for a few more rings. And if that pizza isn’t hot when you get here, you can kiss your tip goodbye, too!