Lisa’s long-distance pizza

Our good friend Lisa, who lives in downtown Lewiston, is at it again. The other night, she got a hankering for piping hot pizza so she placed her order, gave her address and provided all the necessary directions so she could get that pie as quick as possible. The delivery guy called soon after. He was in the area along Pine Street she had described, but dang if he could find her house. “It’s right up from Kennedy Park,” she told the delivery guy when he called. “Don’t you know your way around Lewiston?” The pizza dude stopped talking for a moment. “Lewiston? Where’s that?” he said. “I’m in Orlando, Florida.” Oopsie! Apparently she had called the wrong number — wrong by about 1,400 miles, to be precise. Legend has it Lisa is still waiting for that pizza.

Say . . .

I wonder if there is some hardworking and rakishly handsome newspaper reporter in Orlando who’s writing about this very same thing, only from the other end of it. “Our friend Claude, the pizza guy, is at it again. This time he dealt with some fool up in Maine, wherever that is, who had placed an order for a pizza . . .” I like to believe I have such a counterpart down there in the Sunshine State whose office is under a palm tree. I also like to think that sooner or later, a coconut will fall on his head so I can go down there and replace him on the beach beat.

Undress for success

It’s definitely that time of year for motorcycle riders. One day you have 65-degree weather and it’s quite nice so you dress accordingly and ride in comfort. Next time you go out wearing that glorious mesh half-shirt and Daisy Duke shorts, you freeze all your bits off because the temperature has dropped 30 degrees overnight and an icy wind is blowing from the north. It happened to a guy I know and man, I’m still shivering. I look good, though, you have to admit.

The doctor is in

A hawk-eyed reader named Alex sent in a newspaper clip where he had spotted one Mark LaFlamme MD doling out advice on tick bites to readers of that particular paper. It’s a nice thought, Alex, but contrary to rumor, I am not, in fact, a licensed physician. When would I have had time to study medicine, I ask you, when I’ve been so busy training to be an astronaut. I can, however, pass along some great advice that was given to me after I was bitten by a tick, or possibly a radioactive spider. “Quit scratching it, idiot. You’re just making it worse.”

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