soup?
yeah, i did that.
but, then, i did something even better.
yup.
what is the cure for everything?
c'mon-
you know what it is-
go on......say it-
that's riiiiiight-
PEE EYE ZEE ZEE AYY!!!
and y'boi still gets fresh to death on a pizza pie even when he feels
like hot death-breath carrying the scythe along on the reaper's wings-
uh-huh.
pizza is medicine for what ails you.
look at what i'm speaking on, bruh:
TWO-TIMERS ARE MY THING.
....ummm, wait.
that came out wrong.
double styles on one pizza, i mean-
it's like having two pizzas, without making two pizzas-
and when you're sick, that's the most expeditious way to cure
whatever is attacking your immune system.
yessir.
my homemade stretchy tapioca-siken-tofu mozz' is the TRUTH, neighbors.
for really-real.
and with those wheatless meatless sausages,
and spinach and caramelized onions, AND fried garlic and parsley sprankles?
dude, by the time i hit it with the basil?
i was already on a sensory-overload exxxplosion-
and that's just with simple crushed tomatoes on top.
i can't imagine what i'd be doing if i'd had exxxtra cooked sauce.
probably passing out with delight, i bet.
ha!
-
and the other side?
a classic, too often neglected despite being my favorite for so long-
soy-kissed seared brussels, faux baconishness, and caramelized onions,
with miyoko mozz' grated alllllllll over the dang thing-
this jammie-jam was my savior, man.
thin crispy crust, light sauce, fat chee', protein power, and leafy greens-
that's everything expert in one spot.
and it's pizza, which is always necessary.
-
huh?
the crust?
oh, it's a nine-hour bulk, buddy-
2 1/4 cups flour;
2 tsp salt;
4 tsp yeast;
1 1/4 cups warm water-
11 minutes of kneading and a covered cold-proof rise,
before a casual hand-stretch on an oiled steel tray,
and that hot 480℉ convection oven with the stones in there to keep it dope.
you know the drill by now-
pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza everywhere.
that's all i want,
and that's what i've got.
*
there's no time to do anything, and all i'm capable of is being totally beat-up
and busted at the moment.
it's not the physical discomfort of a cold that infuriates and aggravates me-
it's the lack of efficiency in my actions as my body fights the invaders,
and the war withing my blood,
germs and viruses versus white blood cells and werewolfen vitriol,
leaves me furrowed and furious with biological blasts of blight and battle.
i don't like it,
and besides, a snotty snot head is NOT who i would want breathing
into my open-wounded tattoo skin,
on some bifrosty bridge of pathogen passageways live and direct into my whole body.
but, then again, what do i know?
who is getting tattooed right before XI-mas, anyway?
people who already HAVE something wrong with them, prolly.
ha.
what's a little bioweapon incursion added on between friends, right?
i guess that's how we're livin', kids;
never quiet, never soft.....
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