There's just something about Pizza...

There's something about Pizza which is universally true for all of us. And that is, Pizza, in its doughy, delectable, delight; topped with, savory basil and tomato, pesto, or cream sauce, in limitless, meat, veggie or seafood, options is everyone's favorite, comfort food. Mmm!

As a kid, for me? Pizza, was a way to 'liven up'any party, at school, or local Chucky Cheese.

Pizza, was, and still is, a culinary comfort food-delight, designed, simply to, 'take us away', from the menial, monotony of everyday life.

The taste of pizza will whisk us away, if only for a moment. Whether it be, rolling it, kneading its springy, sticky, dough between your fingers, or waiting on the 'Skip The Dishes' delivery-man, it is, in that moment, when we experience, pizza in all its cheesy goodness, and infinite glory, that we realize, pizza, was designed, just, for, us.

I remember, making pizza, in my eighth grade, cooking class. After, I had punched, Mike Farnum, in the face, for pissing me off with his taunts about the way I, 'wore my, nappy hair...' and the 'gap in between my teeth.'

I remember wrapping my bruised knuckles, in ice, as I waited the last 10 minutes for my pie to finish baking and it was... Delicious! Literally, a piece of heaven, for the taking. And in that, 'mozzarella moment', my little pepperoni slice, with onions, mushrooms, green-peppers, and pineapples, was my personal-pan paradise! It was my little island, filled with 10, or-more, slices, of extra-cheesy, gooey, veggie, meaty, happiness!

Pizza, in that moment, made me forget about, the bullying, taunts, or the fact that I would certainly be suspended, from school, for breaking Mike's face. In that minute, in my moment, pizza, was my, 'delicious victory,' and a satisfying reward to, what was up until, that moment, an unfortunate day at school, surrounded by bullies, and shitty misfits, looking to hurt my feelings.

Pizza, would again come to my rescue, when I had my first date with this, dickhead, musician. Evidently, that 'sack-of-shit,' fucked, another chick, behind my back. But, yes, Pizza was there! Just me and it, chilling.

"Pizza extravaganza, with olives, provolone and extra mozzarella cheese, please," fulfilled it's purpose, and swabbed up the anguish, rather nicely, and I ate that shit, in quantity. Obliviously, giving no heed to the fact that, too much of this stuff, in one evening, never mind, one-sitting, might induce vomiting, or fatality.

The point is? Pizza, was there for me.

And unlike most friends, it didn't criticize, or judge me. Nor, did pizza tell me,

"I had shitty taste in women, or men, and that I did this life, or 'relationship-thing', rather poorly."

Pizza, just 'comforts' me. Pizza, in my honest opinion, tantalizes my nostrils, and seduces my stomach, on purpose. It pacifying, the raging beast, within me, naturally. In fact, pizza again, came to me, when a friend of mine... passed, suddenly.

Pizza, I think was the last thing she ate, before, she did that, last line.

That's what her sister said, on Facebook, along with...

"If only her real friends had been looking out for her, we might have gotten her, in time."

Funny, and unfortunate, how I found out about her passing, about two months after. I'd seen the post, when I signed into my social media page, sometime after.

Even funnier, was the fact that, her boyfriend, sent me a 'dick pic', in April, before he called me, in August, to tell me, she'd passed away, in June, just after pride day. I think, months after that, I'd fucked him, because I was bored, probably needed something to do, that day.

And probably, because I hated him for not telling me she had died. If he had, I could have, at least, said "goodbye." Or, told her stupid ass, not to do drugs, and betray my trust, while she was still alive.

I guess, part of me, thought that he would somehow, make the fact that she was gone, a lie. But, naturally, my vagina was wrong. As was this guy. I mean, besides, having a huge d*ck, the shag wasn't epic. I fell asleep during the sex.

I can't believe I fucked him because of the breakup with, my ex.

Anyway, all I remember, before falling sleep, was that the delivery guy was late. We'd gone halves on a stuffed-crust pizza. And, I went home that morning, around 8.

And of course, there's weekends, when I make pizza, at home, with mom; who would often be too fucking wiped out, from spending the whole day, in the garden, alone. Still, mummy, would be there, like clockwork, once my tomato, saucy, smothered, baked, chewy, cheesy, greasy, herb-crusted, yummy, was taken out of the oven.

I remember making both those pizza's with some, cannabis infusion. I used my Magic Butter Maker, to make the oil, and it was totally worth the price!

There's nothing like mom, getting "high-as-fuck"... on a cannabis slice!