pizza

There was a time when I thought my strange tastes in pizza toppings ought to keep would-be midnight-snackers and other sneak-thiefs of food out of my pizza. The other evening, for example, I brought home a medium consisting of one half veggie lover's, and one half BBQ sauce, pineapple, and onion. Now, I know nobody else in the world wants any of that second half, and my mother specifically doesn't like onions, which I should think would keep her out of either half, but I made the mistake of getting a stuffed crust—when I came back today, the pieces were all intact except for two, and from those two, the crust had been carefully cut away and apparently consumed.

I suppose I should be expecting this, seeing as how she's starting a new diet and all. The fun part is, though, that the diet hasn't even officially started yet. I'm going to have to bring in the mini-fridge and put it in my room or something, if I want to keep food in the house. (Mom, if you're reading this, STAY OUT OF MY ROOM.)