National Pizza Day, III

Ah, free Office Pizza, I loved you!

We've had free pizza for about six straight Fridays now, and it's getting a bit strange.  I realize I don't even wait for the email to come anymore; instead, there is a moment wherein I suddenly notice an eerie silence has come over the office, meaning everyone has filed downstairs to the cafe where it's waiting, and I almost pop a hamstring jumping up out of my chair.

Also, the first few weeks I'd feel compelled to act surprised when I walked in - "oh, pizza? Really? Oh! Well, I guess I'll save the vending machine salad for another time!"  And as I was tearing a slice away and half the cheese got stuck to the mothership, I'd just shrug like it was no big deal and leave it.  "Too much cheese anyways; I prolly won't even finish this whole slice!"

By now I'm clawing into the box with my hand, scraping up all the cheese that's rightfully mine; I'm surprised I don't wipe up all the grease with the crust. I'm guessing I'm a week away from just sticking my face in the thing, and about three from dragging my genitals over an entire pie, marking my territory.

Also office pizza memories:

Dear Office Cafeteria:

Can you please just fucking put my slice of pizza in the same styrofoam box you do everything else? Anyone else walking by it’s like “oh, maybe it’s a salad, or a nice, healthy tomato sandwich with lettuce.”  But god forbid you get pizza, then it’s like a goddam alarm sounding off “hey lookit me everybody, Imma keep stuffing my fat face with grease, cause I’m an unhealthy fat fuck!”