Lately I’ve been eating so much pizza that I feel like I should be saying “cowabunga dude,” wielding nunchucks, and living in a sewer. Or at least donning a sweet trench coat and hangin’ with the heroes in a half-shell, like the super awesome, always beautiful, friend to the good guys:
April O’Neil. I was sort of like April O’Neil when I was kid… and by that I mean I hung out with the Ninja Turtles. I really did… Michelangelo was my friend—imaginary, you may say, but that’s subjective—and he and I spent hours playing and eating pizza. He was always invited over when we had pizza for dinner. I don’t see my ol’ pal Michelangelo much these days, but if I did, I can guarantee I’d be seeing a lot of him this week. Completely by chance, I had pizza for dinner Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday—all at different locations—and I just had pizza for lunch today.
LZ and I went to
Pizzeria Napoletana, which is basically a wood-fire oven tucked into the corner of the
Café Vita coffee shop a few blocks from the office. The barista/pizza maven told us that the salami pizza was actually pepperoni…and that the pepperoni rounds were the most savory, delicious little pepperoni rounds ever. She wasn’t lyin’. They really were the most savory, delicious little pepperoni rounds ever. All curled up and crispy around the edges, little cups filled with spicy pepperoni grease…
I think Mikey and the crew would be proud.
