Frozen Pizza
I have to stop eating frozen pizza.
Every so often my mouth tells my brain that what it really wants is the salty, crispy, cheesy goodness of pizza, and my brain says, "No problemo, I prepared for such an occasion by whispering into The Idiot's subconscious while in the frozen food aisle that we're gonna need some pizza. Like he always does, he put one in the cart, and now it's in the freezer. Pizza hoy!"
But this is my stupid brain, giving bad advice again. Frozen pizza is almost uniformly terrible. If the universe is truly just a simulation, then frozen pizza is undoubtedly a double-simulation, an Inception-level hologram of actual pizza. But gross.
Frozen pizza is bad enough to give one strange thoughts, such as, "Maybe I'll vote Green Party next election, if it promises to shut down whatever monstrous system of injustice foists such awful pizza on the public. To the barricades, comrades!"
My brain just can't help itself. I think there must be some chemical in frozen pizzas that it wants, some preservative or additive, and it actively thwarts me from simply buying a real pizza. "But it takes too long to order a pizza and wait for it to arrive," my bad brain tells me. This is manifestly not true. "It's too much work to leave the house to buy a real pizza," it lies again. Door to door time to the woodfired pizza place near me is about 3.5 minutes, and that pizza comes out in less than 10 minutes. In 13.5 minutes, I could be eating fresh, hot, REAL PIZZA. But no, I trundle to the basement refrigerator like a moron, listening to my dumb brain, and retrieve the hateful disc. It takes 10 minutes to warm up the oven and another 10-15 minutes to cook it, which is the same time it would take to have a real pizza delivered, or to go to a real pizza place. Madness!
Every so often my mouth tells my brain that what it really wants is the salty, crispy, cheesy goodness of pizza, and my brain says, "No problemo, I prepared for such an occasion by whispering into The Idiot's subconscious while in the frozen food aisle that we're gonna need some pizza. Like he always does, he put one in the cart, and now it's in the freezer. Pizza hoy!"
But this is my stupid brain, giving bad advice again. Frozen pizza is almost uniformly terrible. If the universe is truly just a simulation, then frozen pizza is undoubtedly a double-simulation, an Inception-level hologram of actual pizza. But gross.
Frozen pizza is bad enough to give one strange thoughts, such as, "Maybe I'll vote Green Party next election, if it promises to shut down whatever monstrous system of injustice foists such awful pizza on the public. To the barricades, comrades!"
My brain just can't help itself. I think there must be some chemical in frozen pizzas that it wants, some preservative or additive, and it actively thwarts me from simply buying a real pizza. "But it takes too long to order a pizza and wait for it to arrive," my bad brain tells me. This is manifestly not true. "It's too much work to leave the house to buy a real pizza," it lies again. Door to door time to the woodfired pizza place near me is about 3.5 minutes, and that pizza comes out in less than 10 minutes. In 13.5 minutes, I could be eating fresh, hot, REAL PIZZA. But no, I trundle to the basement refrigerator like a moron, listening to my dumb brain, and retrieve the hateful disc. It takes 10 minutes to warm up the oven and another 10-15 minutes to cook it, which is the same time it would take to have a real pizza delivered, or to go to a real pizza place. Madness!
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