Irony Can Be Pretty Ironic Sometimes

Pray for me.

Friends, family, foodies, bloggers, Brooklynites and the owners of Mario's and their ilk... pray for me.


I have true fear I have lost my taste for pizza.  For the first time.  Ever.

Stock footage from an earlier, happier time...

Off The Husband whisked me for an evening filled with Renaissance-style and heavily synthesized Christmas music (read: Mannheim Steamroller).  Don't judge.  It was the music of my childhood.

As we drove off for an evening that I knew would involve again The Bellytimber Tavern, knowing full well there were a few vegan options I'd want to try but would ultimately get the vegan pizza because I am me, I mused to him aloud, "You know how the only thing Atkins did for me was cure me of my bacon obsession?"

"Hmmmmmm?" he said in that lazy voice of his that simultaneously meant "Yes, dear, I know that of which you speak.", "What's this now?", "That guy in front of me is driving too slow." and "Wonder if I can finish this Final Fantasy game before the next one comes out."

"Well, it's too bad there isn't something like that for pizza," I joked.  "I've been following that plan my entire life and it hasn't worked yet!"

We shared some droll laughter and continued on my way.

Oh, stupid girl.  Stupid, stupid girl.

The last time we were at the tavern, it was crowed and entirely too loud for The Husband.  This time around, it was just loud.

He got a Greek (non-vegan) pie and I got a custom pie with what had become my favorite toppings at Pizza Fusion before they went away: Spinach, Artichoke and Garlic.

It was during Mannheim Steamroller during what may have been the creepiest video I've ever seen at a concern or otherwise that was vaguely related to Christmas when it happened.

I became distinctly aware of the exact size, shape and length of my lower intestine.  And it was doing the Batusi.

It became a distinctly uncomfortable Mannheim Steamroller experience.  And not for the creepy videos.

The end could not come fast enough, and to this morning I'm still feeling the ill effects of... well, I don't know what or why this was brought on.

All I know is that it has a very strong association with that pizza I ate.  So much that the thought of pizza (any pizza) fills me with a slight nausia and cold dread.

Be careful what you wish for, even in jest?

Oh, please pray for me.  Let this pass, let me feel better.

Let me not wind up hating pizza...