62. April 16th, 2010 Picture

So, I had a pretty rough day for a Friday.  I have this conference at work tomorrow and let's just say that no one is making my job easy.  I was stuck at work past 6pm stuffing participant folders and swag bags, all while having people asking me absurd questions, like, so absurd.  Once I finally broke free (until 7am tomorrow), my obvious choice of a destination was...Target.  What can I say?  I'm a glutton for punishment.  Truthfully, I was on the fence about shopping until I remembered that there was a Pizza Hut inside.  Now, for those of you who don't know, I've had a life long romance with Pizza Hut, our love is deep.  Like, for the amount of pizza I've consumed from there, it's amazing that my heart hasn't stopped.   Who knew that a pepperoni personal pan pizza could completely turn my day around, rain and all?  This brings me to 3 short and sweet stories from my childhood, all about pizza.

When I was SUPER little, I refused to eat the cheese on pizza.  I know, this should be illegal.  I would take a slice and completely scrape off anything that was good.  This went on for a while, longer than I'm willing to admit, but thankfully I've climbed down from the crazy tree and have joined humanity.   To add insult to injury, I also went through a phase where I would order pepperoni pizza, but then take the pepperonis off.  You see, I liked the pepperoni flavor, but not the pepperonis themselves.  My brother Ronny still makes fun of me to this day by asking me, without fail, if I still only like the pepperoni essence.  I guess this is what big brothers are for.

When I was little, after I had embraced cheese pizza, my dad would take me over to MIT where my brother David worked.  David managed the student union dining hall, which so happens, had a Pizza Hut.  I thought it was the coolest thing, as a little 8 or 9 year old, to get to see the inside of a college dining hall.  They had it made - a Pizza Hut, ice cream buffet, all you could eat french fries, pretty much every kids heaven (and some grown ups too!).  We started making it a little tradition to go over to MIT one night a week so I could have my personal pan pizza.  David knew how much I loved Pizza Hut, so he started sending home a few frozen ones with us so my mom could cook them for me at home.  Seriously, that obsessed.

My last fond childhood memory of Pizza Hut coincides with summers and Scituate.  There is a Pizza Hut on 3A in Quincy that we would pass every time we headed down to visit my cousins.  For the record it's Pizza Hut on the way down, Dairy Queen on the ride home.  Now, it would take about 30+ minutes to get there from Cambridge, so my mom would call down to PH, order my little pizza, and request that they put it in the oven in 20 minutes.  Honest to God, my obsession spared no one, I had my mom in cahoots with me.  

So, there you have 3 quick stories about my childhood and my love of Pizza Hut.  Now you can see why I HAD to go to Target.  It made my day exponentially better.  I'm a total fat kid.