JasonFleischer's Journal: Grand Theft Pizza

It was Friday night in the Gaslamp. I went with a friend (who shall remain nameless) to a birthday party celebration for someone I had never met before (although thankfully my friend had). We catch up with the party in a cheap Italian restaurant --- dude! they've got one massive 20 person party table which sports a bust of Pope John (not Paul), and surrounded by other Papal paraphanalia --- before they went on to the club. It was 10:30, we were supposed to get to the club before 11, we were already drunk but hadn't eaten dinner. But the inconsiderate bastards hadn't left us anything to eat when we got there; even the pizza crusts had already been carted away. Unnamed friend stands up, walks to a box of some other party's take-home pizza sitting on an adjacent empty table and HELPS HIMSELF.

I was in shock!~ Stealing someone's pizza is almost as bad as breaking and entering! Home-castle-pizza-ammunition so to say. Of course, I wasn't so shocked that, when offered a stolen slice, that I didn't eat it.