Blah Blah Blahg: Pizza Day

I am capable of recalling Saturday, July 28, 2012 like the back of my hand:

I believe everyone who has heard me mention this is tired of me saying it, but I will convey my opinion in written word so as to immortalize my thoughts and feelings. There are some things in life one only needs to experience once. I am still adding to the list, but so far it's fireworks and pizza. If you've seen one firework show, you've seen them all, and pizza is pizza: eat one pizza, you've eaten them all. While I like pizza and I have and will continue to glutinously experience it many more times, the taste doesn't vary from place to place according to my tastebud friends. However, there is one exception, as is typical of the American way.

There is a little pizza shop in Brooklyn called Di Fara's Pizza where an old man makes every single pizza. He allows his minions to prep ingredients for the pies, but it is only him who does the deed. There is a much better description of Di Fara's in Broke Ass Stuart's Guide to New York or whatever that book is called, but there is something about this pizza that deems it the exception. I will never find out, and as long as they are always graded with an A for sanitation, I am content with not knowing. Every year I visit, my sister and I come to get a pie. This is a very bustling shop, and we have been very lucky to have dodged crowds in the past. Today was probably our longest wait of about an hour. So we get a whole pizza. Now, this is a piece of information that influenced vital decisions made this day: earlier in the summer a friend and I downed a Grimaldi's pizza 50-50 so I went into this current pizza thinking, "I've done this once, and I felt utterly sick afterwards, but it's Di Fara's. I gotta give it the respect it deserves and finish half the pizza while it's fresh." The task was to eat 4 slices each. We sit under a tree and eat 2. It's amazing. There are no words to describe my joy. Then we decide to take a break and walk to Brooklyn College for a change in environment during the last 2 slices. We sit on a bench near a pond with scholars scattered on the other park benches doing scholarly things like reading or Facebook.

As I finished my 3rd slice, I could feel the descent of my euphoria plant a seed for the anguish that grew in my stomach as I begrudgingly pursued the the 4th slice. If you have ever wanted to get into the mind of an obese person here it is: I finished the 4th slice as did my sister (mostly >:| ) because it would have been a hassle to carry a huge pizza box everywhere with only 2 slices of pizza in it, and it would have been regretful to toss the leftovers because these tasty morsels is valuable; we only get this once a year so might as well indulge, right? Wrong, but there were many more wrong decisions made that day.

Sister described the pizza as matter filling her lungs, and I felt like the boy who ate the chocolate cake from the movie Matilda or Ella when she described her cake own cake frenzy in the book Ella Enchanted, whichever reference summons more insight. We needed something to erode the pizza clods in our body so what better choice than to order not one large sweet tea from Mcdonalds but two large sweet teas from Mcdonalds? As a nod to our luck, we actually didn't get sweet teas, we were rewarded with two colossal cups of syrup that unfortunately had an adverse effect on the pizza clods.

So we hobbled on over to the nearby Target because we were going to anyways, and made a pit stop at the soda fountain to pour out half of the syrup and fill the buggers with ice and water. We still weren't having it, but as obese people do, we figured we paid $2 for this so might as well drink it right? Wrong. The rest of the day disintegrated into hours of us laying in bed trying to digest as fast as possible and going for a jog/bike ride to speed the process and attempt lessening the effect those calories will have on our sad bodies. Don't get me wrong, I STILL LOVE DI FARA'S.