Pizza is/always has been/always will be the staple of your run-of-the-mill fatty fatty 2x4. Science has recently discovered pizza in the bellies of big, fat cavepersons. Maybe if you got to the museum once a decade you'd know about amazing shit like this. (As museums are often public buildings, the law requires them to have ample room for your Hoveround/Cushman Truckster).
It should come as no surprise to me then that the following is actually a true story:
Domino's Guy: Here's your pizza, sir.
I grab the card to sign the receipt, so I can prove in a possible litigation-type situation that I did indeed purchase this pizza. (Sit on your high horse and pretend it couldn't happen!)
Domino's Guy: Suprised I don't see your little guy running around.
So the Domino's guy knows that I have a young son. Wow. Luckily he didn't say anything about my wife's uterus.
I seriously have to go now because the Domino's guy is here...seriously.