I detected a bit of pissiness from My Fucking Father at dinner today. We got -- well, I brought for us -- Pizza Hut. In the morning, Mother blindsided me with the request, but at least she jotted down the three ingredients in both of the pizzas (they're going for ten bucks each) she decided we were going to eat. One of them had pineapple, and it's probably the first time that I both have ordered a pizza with pineapple and seen Mother enthusiastically wanting that topping on a pizza we bought.
Pineapples on pizza are a fucking abomination. I love pineapple. I sure as shit don't love it on a pizza. There are toppings, foods, flavors that are associated with pizza, and there are toppings, foods and flavors that definitely are not. People who like pineapples on pizza are nihilists, and they probably are the ones you see on those goddamn videos screaming at people because they were told to wear a mask in public. Those people are fucked-up, is what I'm saying.
I dug into that pizza, sure. But first I went to the kitchen to grab a plastic container. I took out a slice and then carefully yanked all the pieces of pineapple out and off of the slice and put it into the container. I was not going to throw them away, but instead eat them later this evening as a midnight snack. It's healthy for me, and it's tasty, for sure. But they don't belong on a pizza. If they did, God would have made it so. Well, pineapples on pizza are already around ... you get what I mean.
I knew such a diva move might not go over so well with my parents. Mother, if she got pissed, didn't show it. Father? Eh. He instructed me on how to say "two million" in Chinese, and then while I was standing above the garbage trying to yank a second paper plate off the bottom of the one I used to eat the pizza (we use paper plates when eating pizza because it's smart), he actually felt like he needed to tell me, "Well, throw that plate into the trash!" No shit, Sherlock. I really think he was so perturbed by the principle I adhered to that he got triggered and wanted to lash out at me. Whatever.
In the meantime, I think Mother will not ask for pineapple the next time we eat pizza. It is for the best.
Pineapples on pizza are a fucking abomination. I love pineapple. I sure as shit don't love it on a pizza. There are toppings, foods, flavors that are associated with pizza, and there are toppings, foods and flavors that definitely are not. People who like pineapples on pizza are nihilists, and they probably are the ones you see on those goddamn videos screaming at people because they were told to wear a mask in public. Those people are fucked-up, is what I'm saying.
I dug into that pizza, sure. But first I went to the kitchen to grab a plastic container. I took out a slice and then carefully yanked all the pieces of pineapple out and off of the slice and put it into the container. I was not going to throw them away, but instead eat them later this evening as a midnight snack. It's healthy for me, and it's tasty, for sure. But they don't belong on a pizza. If they did, God would have made it so. Well, pineapples on pizza are already around ... you get what I mean.
I knew such a diva move might not go over so well with my parents. Mother, if she got pissed, didn't show it. Father? Eh. He instructed me on how to say "two million" in Chinese, and then while I was standing above the garbage trying to yank a second paper plate off the bottom of the one I used to eat the pizza (we use paper plates when eating pizza because it's smart), he actually felt like he needed to tell me, "Well, throw that plate into the trash!" No shit, Sherlock. I really think he was so perturbed by the principle I adhered to that he got triggered and wanted to lash out at me. Whatever.
In the meantime, I think Mother will not ask for pineapple the next time we eat pizza. It is for the best.
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