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Under normal circumstances I consider eating a large pizza all by myself an accomplishment. There's that point, usually when you have 3 slices to go, that it starts mocking you. "What's a matter fatty? Eyes bigger than your stomach?" This begets the decision. I'm full at this point, very full. It's an odd feeling to look at food and not want to stuff it into my gullet but that' where I'm at. It's uncomfortable and I'm not used to it and I don't like it. Not one bit. On the other hand, there are only 3 pieces left. What good is that to me? If I put them in the fridge, they'll be the first thing I eat in the morning. But that wont' be enough, I know it won't. It never is. But I can't very well make a full breakfast of bacon( sweet, sweet bacon), eggs and toast and just pile it on top of these 3 lonely slices. I mean that, I'v tried. So ultimately I take the challenge and set to work eating the pizza I have no interest eating. It's not easy, but it is rewarding. It's satisfying to know that once again, I've beaten an inanimate stack of protein, fat and simple carbohydrates. Job well done. But then last night I had Papa Johns Pizza, and it was a different kind of challenge. Getting even the first bite of that slimy, charred yet undercooked( how did they even do that?) flattened stool sample was an exercise in will equal to withstanding water boarding. Greater, nobody charges you to get water boarded.
Article Source: http://www.ebaykings.co.uk
So, how did you find your favorite pizza place? Did you have to follow around a bunch of fat Italian guys for a few days until they lead you there, or was it just sitting in the yellow pages, waiting? Let me know at Papa Johns Sucks at Fat Bastard Eats Like A Man
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