Dear, Diary.
Hi.
I’m fat. Not by your standards but by mine. They’re high. I only ran once during this week in New York. A measly eleven kilometers to balance out all the terrible, terrible food I ate. Chinese take-out, too much Mexican, three street vendor hot dogs, one street vendor lamb falafel, Wendy’s chili twice (I’m really starting to hate that red-haired bitch!), and pizza. Twice. Tomorrow marks exactly six weeks until the half-marathon in Montréal. So I am starting a diet. Tomorrow. For the rest of today I suppose I will just get fatter.
Bye.
Speaking of pizza, I had The Best Pizza Slice Ever at Molfetta on Washington Avenue in Hoboken. I looked at their many different and tempting types of slices but decided to have a basic slice. Cheese. Sauce. Greasy thin crust. That’s it.
It was because it was so plain yet still so tasty and delicious that it wins the Best Slice Ever award. It is easy to throw a bunch of other delicious foods on a pizza like chicken and hot peppers and green peppers and onions. But then you are just tasting the extra ingredients or at least are being largely distracted by them. In a world where we tend to get carried away with bling, pizza, tragically, is no exception.
If you order a pizza and you get three free toppings you order three toppings. If it’s five, you order five. Join my movement to revive the popularity of the plain, cheese pizza. Try NONE. Same goes for hotdogs. Try eating just the dog and the bun. It’s fucking good.
Anyway. I digress.
If you ever find yourself in Hoboken, New Jersey, I highly recommend you visit Molfetta on Washington near 10th Avenue.
Dee. Lish.
