One thing always has, and always will remain constant. I love Hawaiian pizza.
When I was a lil girl, my mom would make burritos one Saturday, and pizza the next, switching off like this. It was the BEST. Our pizza was made on a stone, I was in charge of making sauce, and it was a big family fest to get everything chopped up. We had one half vegetable, one third Hawaiian (for me!) and whatever was left over was just olives and cheese because that's what my brother liked.
I had a ritual eating this pizza. I'd drag all of the toppings off and eat them by themselves. Then I'd scrape off the soft and gooey parts of the crust and eat that by itself. All that was left over was the underside of the crust, the hard crispy part. And I'd put extra sauce on it and it that. It was like three pizzas in one.
I grew older and realized how weird that was. Wait, I'll defend it. It never burned the roof of my mouth. NEVER. But it was pretty weird.
Through freshman year of high school, I had pizza and limp fries for lunch every day. I learned that there was never enough ranch dressing.
In college, sophomore year, my bff roommate Marion and I would watch Bachelorette together. Ashley and JP's season. This always called for pizza too. Usually the nasty stuff from Little Ceasars.
I went through a stage when I hated Little Ceasars. It was gross. My dad said he wouldn't eat that stuff if it was the last thing in the world. We called it cardboard in a cardboard box. Since then, I've come to respect what Joseph calls a "Hot and Sweaty", namely because it looks gross and makes you feel gross.
But you still eat it. Why? Because it's pizza. You can't help it. And now that box of cardboard is a treat.
Joseph is ditching me next week to mingle with the upity ups of the aerospace world. He's on top of the world, HEY! He's a very fancy man lately, getting wined and dined by importants, and I'm proud of him.
Never the less, I'm going to miss him a lot. And I intend to drown my sorrow in Hawaiian pizza. Joseph does NOT like Hawaiian pizzas. Only on days when he really feels bad for me for getting beat up at work or something does he let me get Hawaiian pizza. He doesn't trust the hot pineapple.
I'm hoping that getting so much Hawaiian pizza will cure me of my hunger for pizza. Because it's weird lately, guys. I constantly want pizza. Whenever I'm hungry, it's what I want. When I'm NOT hungry, it's what I want, and then I get hungry because of that.
The point of this post is just to say I'm super excited for pizza now.