Paul here, telling you about Zachary's pizza down by campus. Big, thick, deep dish, weighs as much as a baby or two. We ordered far too much pizza; Joe managed to eat 18π square inches while Lauren and I managed a paltry 12.25π apiece. Lauren's dining experience was complicated by her decision to order the "Flying Z," featuring spinach, pineapple, garlic, and jalapeños. She claims it's the best pizza she's ever had, but I think she's just saying that. She isn't really bisexual or fluent in Russian either.

I have to go. The woodpecker outside has started whacking his head into a metal sheet again, and it still sounds like gunfire and makes me want to get away from the window.

No comments: