If you don’t know what Caviar is, congratulations, there’s a chance you might have a dick. If you do, well, maybe this can help you to learn that using an elitist delivery service app is all kinds of indication that you’ve got genitalia issues.
Caviar: for delivery ASAP–’cause you’re an entitled prick
Obviously, you feel the need to prove to whoever you’re ordering in front of (probably a woman who only hangs around you because you buy her shit) that you are far above the basicness of Seamless or GrubHub. Because, clearly, getting food presented to you from places like the Meatball Shop
is worth the extra expense of using Caviar–even though you could just goddamn well order from Peter’s Since 1969.
News of the Meatball Shop delivering will leave many Williamsburg “men” salivating over the food possibilities. However, if you’re a privileged enough soul to live within close proximity to the Meatball Shop (this constitutes anywhere from Bedford to Kent–whether on the north or south side), there’s very little excuse for you to indulge in using the latest model iPhone to dial the number of the hallowed establishment and ask for delivery. Unless of course, the void where your dick should be feels so immense when you actually get up off your ass that you just can’t bear to walk for long stretches.
You have to work to deserve this taste. It shouldn’t just get handed to you.
The Bucket o’ Balls, among other savory fare on the menu at Meatball Shop, is perhaps the most telling item a “man” can order for delivery, as it usually infers he desperately wishes he had some balls of his own. When you show disrespect to the Meatball Shop by forcing it to come to you instead of you displaying reverence by going to it, you’re also showing that you’s missin’ a dick.