Day 179 - Dec. 2
Listening to: Karma Karma Chameleon
Thought for today: Age is of no importance unless you are a cheese.

I worked hard for this leftover pizza (leftovers seen in photo). I’m not proud of what it took to get it. Last night, my Wednesday night dinner group went to City House. The homemade mozzarella they put on their pizza is like crack to me. I spent the entire day yesterday fantasizing about my very own City House pizza. I thought Kris's very own City House pizza was a done deal. NOPE!

One of my Dad’s mantras has always been that things in life are better when shared. I subscribe to this belief and have been a disciple of the concept for years. You would think that when the City House waiter told us that the restaurant serves family-style to large groups (there were 10 of us) that I would be elated to share and use the opportunity to preach the sharing prophecy. I was not elated. I was distraught and my restaurant bitch meter rose exponentially in .3 seconds flat. In case you don’t know, family style is where the group orders a few dishes and everyone shares. Family style meant I would not get my very own City House pizza. Family style meant that my fantasy was squashed. I begged the waiter to let me opt out of the family-style rule. He said no. I pouted hard. After watching me turn down the appetizers and my bottom lip grow, one of my friends pulled the waiter to the side and quietly asked him one last time to bend the rules. My friend's attempt resembled a lawyer fighting for someone on death row. The waiter caved. I got my own pizza. OH JOYOUS PIZZA!!! I gobbled it up as if I had been living on a diet of Vienna sausages and crackers for the past week. Then……………………………..I got indigestion. I never get indigestion. Hello karma!

I don’t think my Wednesday night peeps will let me forget this incident. I am most grateful that they didn’t kick me to the curb last night.