Crashing My Pizza Party

The Romeo’s Pizza coupon hung on the bulletin board in the kitchen for months. With it’s piping-hot pledge for a free 1-topping pie whenever I wanted, I knew it was something to be savored and not squandered some random night after a few too many beers.

Thus, when the phone rang at 1 p.m. on an otherwise-quiet Thursday afternoon with a request for an immediate interview THE NEXT DAY with one of the leading, most-coolest, most-coveted employers in Columbus… I felt the time had come to redeem that coupon.

I know, I didn’t HAVE the job yet. I didn’t even have the awesome, knock-their-socks-off-they-will-surely-choose-to-employ-me-the-moment-we-shake-hands interview yet — the small, step-in-the-right-direction victory felt like cause for celebration. It’s either that or I just REALLY had a hankering for some pizza.

I made the call ordering up my FREE pie which would—in a mere 15 minutes—be sitting on my coffee table with an ice-cold beverage. I drove the 5 minutes to pick it up (so as to avoid the delivery charge, making it TRULY FREE) and settled down in front of a chick flick of my choosing.

At first bite, I was blissfully savoring the emotional high of the moment. The company of my man (yes I DID share the pizza), a DE-LI-CI-OUS, saucy pizza, a mediocre Sandra Bullock movie and the knowledge that my newly-organized portfolio and smoothed-over power suit were going to land me a killer J-O-B on the morrow.

With 2 slices down, I decided that it was too good of an occasion NOT to indulge in 2 more. (Don’t judge me… They were small pieces.) So I filled up my plate with 2 more pieces and settled in front of Miss Bullock for the remainder of her luke-warm performance in a so-so movie that could only be described as a romantic thriller.

It was at that moment that the phone rang again. I wonder what this is about? Maybe it’s another interview?! Wow, when it rains it POURS!! Rushing to the phone with bloated confidence and an even more bloated pizza-tummy, I was puzzled to see the same number as earlier in the day. Huh.

  • Job Rep on The Phone: “I’m sorry to inform you Joanna, but the interview for tomorrow has been cancelled. I just received word that the position has been filled.”
  • Me (to myself): “Damn.”
  • Me (to him trying NOT to sound desperately pathetic and crushed): “Oh? That is disappointing news. Any thoughts as to how this happened? … Well, I know you’ll keep trying to get me in front of them. Thank you for calling.”
  • Him (only the fragments I retained): “We will keep trying… This happens… patience… It will happen … stay positive … talk soon.”

After hanging up I looked down at my sad little half-eaten victory meal… then to Sandra Bullock’s frozen face on the screen where I had paused her… and back to my once-lovely slices again. At first I had no desire to finish eating it. I mean, it tasted great and I still wanted it. But somehow it felt wrong to eat it.

A few tears and an encouraging, sympathetic pep talk from my sweetie later I slowly picked up the remains of what was once my celebratory victory pizza and decided it WAS still worthy of consumption. But it’s purpose had changed. It had become comfort food.

Now the coupon is gone. It is—without a doubt—squished into a tiny, yellow and red paper ball, covered with half-eaten slices, greasy napkins and used plastic utensils… and sitting at the bottom of Romeo’s dumpster. Right next to my overly-inflated ego.

NYC: Does This Pizza Make Me Look Fat?

Remember the good old days when cameras used film? You took all of your vacation pictures home with you in little black canisters — their contents largely unknown. And when you got around to it, you would drop them off at the nearest photo developing place and get them back within one to three business days.

Ahh yes, the good old days of blissful ignorance when your vacation could not possibly become clouded by some random image of you frozen in time. The picture was snapped and everyone moved merrily on their way.

But now that we live in the digital age and have the opportunity to SEE that random image of ourselves almost frozen in time—that is before we hit the SAVE button—we often recoil at what we see and wish for a do-over. We reposition ourselves in an attempt to look happier, taller, thinner or ironically… more natural than we did in the previous snapshot.

During our trip to New York we took a lot of pictures. After all, New York is a magnificent city with so much worth seeing and remembering and Lee is a wonderful photographer who artistically and diligently documents the events of our travels by taking numerous fun and interesting pics.

Occasionally when he would snap one I would ask to see it before we moved on to the next destination on our “must-see” list. And occasionally I would ask him for a do-over… particularly if I felt that said photograph made my face look fat.

<<< As a side note, other than the scale and my clothing, photos are very revealing to me when it comes to a change in my weight. Oftentimes they are even MORE telling than clothing and if I so much as suspect that the scale is inching in an upward direction I refuse to get on it. So photos can sometimes provide me with that slap-in-the-face “AH-HA moment” (as Oprah would say) … and inspire me to get off my butt and do something about my upward mobility. >>>

OK… back to the story. Lee put up with my requests for do-overs for about a day. But then, in the early part of the second day when I pouted and complained about my ginormous moon face he sighed, put the camera down, looked at me and said something kind of like this: “Joanna. You know you are not fat. And we are in New York. One of the greatest cities in the world not to mention one of the greatest cities to EAT in the world… and you are complaining about your weight. I don’t want you to TALK about or even THINK about your weight until we get home. If you want to worry about it then, that’s your prerogative. But for now… Just enjoy.”

And he was right. I knew he was 100% right. I knew that I was being ridiculous and shallow and that if I really am unhappy with my current weight… Well… Sitting down in front of a gorgeous, large, authentic, New York-style pizza pie from Lombardi’s—the very first and oldest pizzeria in America—was most certainly NOT the time nor place to start worrying about it.

Guilty Pleasures

Every Wednesday I post a status update on Facebook as I gear up to indulge in my favorite guilty pleasure — watching Revenge on ABC. I am absolutely addicted to that show. I don’t know if it’s the scenic Hamptons, the high-flying, preciously-charmed, jewel-adorned lives the characters lead, the clothes, the plotting, the scheming, the backstabbing or simply watching skinny, beautiful, evil people inhabiting a place so foreign to an Ohio gal like me. Nonetheless, I was hooked on the show after watching the first 20 minutes of it when it premiered last fall.

There is a small group of Facebook friends (maybe 8 to 10) who also admit to loving the show and each Wednesday we gather together in cyberspace and enjoy a little pre and post-Revenge dish session.

This week I mentioned to a friend (while dishing) that the show was my “guilty pleasure”— singular—indicating that I had only one. However, upon further review I must come clean and admit to myself and (just for fun) everyone reading this that I DO have other guilty pleasures. Many, many guilty pleasures in fact.

For instance… JUST TO NAME A FEW…

  1. Sleep. I can knock out 12 hours of sleep like nobody’s business. If allowed I would probably give the cat a run for his money.
  2. An Over-Indulgence in Paper Products. I go through napkins, paper towels, tissues and toilet paper like they’re going out of style. And now that I’m not working and home much of the time… I have become acutely more aware of just how much I use. Just ask Lee. He has begun clipping coupons for all things paper since I moved in.
  3. Pizza. I could eat it seven days a week if possible. In fact, ever since I was little and Friday night was pizza night at our house (no exceptions because it was my mother’s one day off from cooking) I EXPECT to eat it at least once a week. And if I don’t get it… I feel deprived. I know it’s probably “wrong” to have such a thing as PES or more formally known as “Pizza Entitlement Syndrome” what with whole nations of people starving and all… but I can’t help it. I am obviously hardwired by now.
  4. Pillows. I can’t get enough of them. Big, fat, fluffy, goose-down pillows for sleeping, pillows for throwing and propping and accenting. When I am out shopping I will ALWAYS cruise the pillow aisle and I can justify the purchase of a new pillow like it’s my job. But I don’t have ANYTHING with this shade or this shape or this pattern or this softness… anywhere in the house! Therefore, I MUST purchase this pillow. It would be a crime NOT to.
  5. Decorative Candles That I Will Never Burn. I know that I’ve addressed this in a previous post so I will not say much more on the matter other than to say that along with the PES, I should probably see someone about it. It’s becoming a real problem. At some point we are going to run out of shelf/table/counter/closet space and become overrun with decorative candles and I will wind up on an episode of Hoarders or some other abnormal-psychologically-voyeuristic cable show.

So… dear readers, please share with me (because I’d really like to know) what are some of YOUR favorite guilty pleasures? The sky is the limit and I promise that your secret will be safe with me. Well, me and anyone else who happens to click on this link today.