Friday, March 9, 2007

Reminisce'Zone

Hey! Do you remember the P'Zone?

It's more than just a calzone, it's the size of a pizza, folded in half! You are made to believe that it's for one person, so you and your roommate Amanda have 2 of them delivered. You have a mini celebration about how awesome they are going to be. You get out unholy amounts of ranch dressing to sacrifice to the P'Zone and throw on The Emperor's New Groove. Yeah, it's a party. You and Amanda are overly rambunctious when the pizza guy gets there, and though you are both single and lonely and centering an evening on what is basically a fun-to-be-fat party, you ignore the delivery boy's advances. We don't need companionship, we have the P'Zone!

So you and Amanda settle onto the couch, put the P'Zone on the coffee table and pump your fists as if you've just finished the New York Marathon. You smile at each other and start eating this magical concoction like you're the happiest person on the planet (you know, Bill Cosby). You're not thinking about all the cardio-kickboxing you're going to have to do to burn this off, you eat like you're being paid to do it. Other metaphors happen.

Cut to an hour later, the both of you sprawled out on the floor. You left the couch because it couldn't hold either of you anymore. You both have skipped the unbuttoning of your jeans and totally taken your pants off. You have never been so fat in your life. Since this whole debacle began, you've gained 25 pounds and a heart condition. You won't be going to class tomorrow because you can't fit in any of your clothes anymore. You won't be going anywhere but the bathroom, and you're certain to visit it often. You spend the rest of the evening moaning in agony and rolling around on the floor, getting dog hair all over your already ranch-dressing-and-marinara stained hoodie.

But don't worry, fella. Things get better. It may take a while, but you get back on your feet. You stop having P'Zone themed nightmares. You're able to look at red sauce and baked goods again without wanting to vomit all over your new, stain-free hoodie. You've grown up a bit and have more control over yourself.

You're finally ready for another.

So what I'm saying is this: come on, P'Zone. It's been 5 years. I'm ready for what you've got, I'm a woman now. Come back to me. I know, you hurt me, but I love you. I think I'm ready for a relationship now. But only with you. Or another Americanized Italian food. Let's do this.



On a side note: I love Bill Cosby.