Without a job, half the time I don't even know what day it is. All the weekdays just kind of run together. But despite the weeks being quite pleasant, the weekends are still exciting. I drink an extra 5 beers with dinner and sleep in without guilt. After awakening around noon on Saturday, I geared up for a Snapped marathon with a grilled cheese-and-tomato sammy.
5 hours into the marathon, Landlord Loye swung by to finally put the finishing touches on the endless door project. Our handyman is a sweet, well-meaning man but his sense of deadlines is not the greatest.
We'd planned to make meatballs but it turned out the ground turkey had spoiled. At least I'm assuming turkey shouldn't smell like year old milk. Instead we decided to have pizza night. So, Chris headed to the grocery store. Since I'd already cracked eggs for the meatballs, I decided to make brownies. When life gives you rotten meat, make organic brownies! I should make t-shirts.
Our life in Greenville isn't filled with the hottest clubs or celebrity run-ins. What we do have is pizza night. It's my favorite night of the week. There is just something so orgasmic about a pizza that you made with your own hands. Every time, we experiment with new toppings. We've done a turkey pepperoni/goat cheese/onion/hot pepper pie and a spicy sausage/goat cheese/hot pepper/potato pie. Tonight was bacon/onion/gorgonzola/hot peppers. Yes, we really like hot peppers. They make everything better.
Up close and personal
It was delicious. And since it was Saturday night, we decided to have a few beers. 2 six packs later, the beer gods convinced us we were starving and we devoured the 2 remaining slices of the pizza. Unfortunately, we weren't satisfied. Chris casually suggested that he make a new pizza. I drunkenly scoffed. It was already after midnight and pizzas take time. Chris countered that he could make a pizza in 25 minutes. I scoffed again. Roll the dough, put on the toppings and cook in in 25 minutes? Scoff! As a heterosexual male, Chris took this as a challenge and shuffled off to the kitchen. I took a picture of the time as evidence. Seriously, just go to bed guys.
24 minutes later, a plate of fresh baked pizza slices was placed in front of me. He'd done it. He'd won Iron Pizza Chef, with a minute to spare. And I gotta say, this may have been the bud light wheat talking, but it was the best pizza I've had in a long time.
The evidence. 1:12
And then of course we followed this up with some brownies for dessert. By the time I went to bed I appeared to be 3 months pregnant. I almost wish** I was, at least then I'd have an excuse for such behavior.
**KNOCK ON ALL THE WOOD IN THE FOREST
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