Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Pizza, We Need to Talk...

Hey Pizza, would you come over here for a minute? We need to talk.

Look, we've had some great times together...


Please, Pizza, just let me talk.

We've had some great times together: birthday parties, office parties, lonely nights alone with just you, me (naked) and a marathon of Yo Gabba Gabba on Netflix. You've put up with my rants on how only savages eat pizza cut into squares. I've consoled you when you've felt self-conscious about looks (No, baby, Digiorno is nothing like delivery. I promise.).

And our relationship has survived many hardships. I've put up with countless burns on the roof of my mouth. Even that time you caused me third degree burns, I lied to the cops and told them I fell onto a candle with my mouth open. You didn't even cry when I "accidentally" dropped you off a balcony and onto my ex-girlfriend. It was at that point, I knew we were in love.

At least that's what I thought. I've spent the last two hours talking to our friends, Breadsticks and Hot Wings. We've agreed: you have gone to far this time. You can hurt me all you want, but once you start going after my Detroit Lions, you've crossed a line that can never be uncrossed. I know you have a special relationship with Chicago, and I've really tried hard to come to terms with that, but that does not excuse your behavior last night. 

I want to stress that this is my decision and my decision alone. Please do not let this sour your relationship with Breadsticks and Hot Wings; you guys make such a great combo. And I swear, Two-Liter Pop has nothing to do with this. He and I broke off things ever since my last dentist visit.

But we cannot continue this relationship together. The pain you have caused me today will take 3-4 months to repair, depending on the orthopedic surgeon. Maybe we can still be friends, I don't know. The wound is too fresh for me to even think about.

I know we probably can't completely avoid each other in the near future. We may bump into one another at a friend's house. We'll awkwardly say "hi" to each-other with minimal eye contact. But I beg of you, when this happens, do not come on to me. It will be hard to resist your tantalizing pheromones, but please, just keep your lid closed. For me. For us.

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