IU: What Your Drunken Pizza Joint Says About You
If you didn’t pay, walk away from the box… now. Don’t even look at it. I dare you to ask for a piece of the brownie. This is the filet mingnon of Bloomington pizza joints. You don’t order MB’s unless you throw down the big bucks, so I’m definitely not sharing. You have a better chance of me tattooing your name in a heart on my arm. Actually, someone go close the door so no one knows this pizza is here.
I’ve been around the block with my pizzas and I know what I like. I’m a seasoned pizza connoisseur because this place isn’t known by the average Joe (or freshman). There’s a 0% chance I’ll be sharing… unless we’re tight… or if I owe you a piece from last night.
I’m clearly in the mood to be kind and share and obviously I ordered the BigX bargain and have more food than I could ever fit into my stomach. Just passing by my room? Here! Take a piece, I insist. What good night doesn’t end with devouring this and then not believing I could actually fit all that food in my stomach the next morning? Just don’t mess with my sauces. Cheesy bread, you ask? Who do you think I am?! That, on the other hand, don’t come near.
I’m so drunk that at this point I just want food in me. Sardine and pineapple pizza? Sure, why not! I forgot this pizza joint existed until I left Sports tonight and passed it on my walk home at 2:30 in the morning.
I have no preference on my pizza. I just want those peppers that come on the side. All I know is pizza is pizza and I want it.
Gone, but not forgotten. #RIP
Jennifer Kahn is a contributing writer for 10Worthy attending Indiana University.