Also because I have a strange yet unrealized fetish for big fat ginger-haired italian chefs who wear vests and constantly seem to be stuffing their faces, I want to follow in Mario’s chubby footsteps and conduct a snarky pizza crawl of my own. There would be more alcohol involved…of course…and I’m not sure we can get into all these fancypants places he visits in one day…I don’t have the “I’m famous and don’t have to wait” NY card…so this might have to be a month long journey. I also don’t really agree with his pizza place picks. He left off Lucali for starters…Anyhoo, pizza has saved my drunk as many a night and might be the real reason I can’t picture myself living anywhere other than New York. Can you give me a greesy hot slice of pepperoni pizza at 4am Omaha? I didn’t think so. And if you can, it’s Dominos and not a real New York slice. This doesn’t really have anything to do with unemployment or finding a job and has everything to do with the fact that it’s 3pm and I haven’t eaten yet.
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