“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Friday, March 26, 2004

I love Papa John's Pizza.

A wise man once said: "Pizza is like sex. Even when it's bad, it's still kinda good."

Maybe it was Skippy. I can't remember.

Anyways, I believe that Pizza is the perfect food. The best Pizza I ever had was from a little shop in Sicily. It is quickly followed by my cousin-in-law Louis's Pizza from DeAngelo's in Baton Rouge Louisiana.

I have, however, encountered pizza that I wouldn't eat. My buddy Rich will do two things upon reading this: #1, he'll make a crack about there being ANYTHING I will refuse to eat, and #2, he'll back me up when I say where it's from.

In college we had this little restaurant on the corner that we would order wings from. It too, coincidentally, was named DiAngelos (not DeAngelos like my cousin's place). And when we ordered wings we ordered fucking wings. Like 200 at a time. We'd be in our apartment with like 12 people watching a game and it'd just be chicken bones and elbows flying everywhere. We called it "Caveman Night".

So one day Brian and I went over to check out the buffet. Lo and behold, there was pizza on the buffet! Actually, it wasn't that surprising considering it was a goddamn Italian restaurant, but we'd never ordered anything but the wings because they kicked so much ass.

So along with my wings I got a couple slices of pizza.

You know how garbage smells when it's been left out on the curb on a hot day? That pizza tasted the way that smells.

But what got me started on this is I just finished my Papa John's leftovers. Pepperoni and mushrooms. I love Papa John's, did I mention that? It's not the best I've ever had, but I can get a large for $6.

Yes, you're amazed. Allow me to explain.

Shortly after we moved into the ghetto Jay ordered some Papa John's and asked if the driver could break a $50. They said no so he cancelled the order. Half an hour later the delivery guy shows up with the pizza. Oddly enough, he had no trouble breaking Jay's $50.

So Jay calls them and complains about the pizza showing up after having been cancelled. A few days later we order from there again and the delivery guy gives us a buy-one-get-one-free coupon. We used that coupon like 3 times before a delivery guy finally thought to ask us for it.

Since then, we keep getting them in the mail. We use each of them at least twice before having to fork them over, and when we do redeem them we just get another in the mail.

Shit, the one I used tonight I used for the fourth time and it's EXPIRED.

I still have the damn thing too.

Yeah, I know, that was a damn long post about pizza, but there's a lot going on right now that I can't really post about. Things that have been kinda dominating my attention lately so take what I can give people.

But the coupon thing has convinced me that I was right about the Papa John wanting to kill me (or whack me as the ethnic stereotype may be). I can just picture the meeting in my head:

Pizza Goon #1: Boss, this guy eats an insane amount of pizza, but it hasn't killed him yet!

Pizza Goon #2: Yeah, it's amazing! He has the physique, and to some extent the smell, of Ted Kennedy!

Papa John: I know, I know. I thought sure putting little buckets of fucking garlic-flavored butter in there would finish him off. I know! Break out the fucking coupons!

So I'm in the process of eating myself to death. Somehow I allways knew it would end this way.

Dr Atkins can kiss my big fat pepperoni-stuffed ass.


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