and if the way to a man's heart is through his stomach so must be the way to a woman's heart (since analogy is politically correct)... and love towards pizza must affect both
So there I was, a 21-year-old smiling face unaware of nutritional values which were to be found only in a slice of pizza. For 21 whole years I had eaten as few as up to four pizzas (it gives me the creeps now, literally) and I wasn't malnourished at all. Since I got to know Christovan I have eaten 100 times as many.
So here I am, infected with pizzadoration by a guy suffering from chronic pizza deficiency, but - Heaven forbid - I am not complaining.
It takes salami, olives, mushrooms, pepper, and mozzarella to make you put on rose-tinted spectacles
And now I am constantly told that there can be nothing better than pizza and I am taught what's best about pizza, what meat's best for pizza and how come the mozzarella put on a slice of bread is worse than the one put on a slice of pizza, and that pizza deserves brand name cheese only.
I love the knowledge in a way... and I love when we just pop out to the shop for something sweet and we end up with a bag packed with all the ingredients for pizza.
Love it since it gives merry to my merry-giver pizza-lover... I'm infected so:
Ho ho ho, merry pizza
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