Tony's pizza, and Giraffes.

A Story by J.howard87

I don't really eat pizza anymore. I don't like it. The crust, tomato sauce, cheese, and Slavic people who enslave too many illegal Mexican cooks to make Italian-American food, takes me to a bad place. I had been eating so much pizza at one point that every time I took a s**t it came with a free 2 liter soda.
I had been in a pretty bad slump recently and I got out of it because I, well, because I f*****g wanted to be more productive, and I wasn't taking it very well. You know what I mean by not taking "it" very well? Okay...have you ever broken up with someone that you truly love, only to be rejected over, and over again only to lose connection with your sanity? If you have, then you know what "it" is. I had been drinking too much, and reading books on people like Elephants, and f*****g hypnotism, and just getting lost in my own head. And getting lost in your own head is the worst thing you can possibly do to reinforce your feelings of:
self control
confidence
security
and your constitution.
Cause that's what women want to see in a man, you know? I was single, broken and cataloged in pain. What I mean by constitution, is that you begin to lose your self-government, and your foundation, who you really are begins to die a slow and morbid death of synchronized crying, and masturbation, too much. Are you still with me on feeling "it?" You start to think about balloons, and zombies...Obama, and you find a strand of 2 month old ex-girlfriend hair, and f*****g eat it in front of a picture of the both of you kissing that you deleted, and then found again in iCloud, thinking that you can be spiritual, and maybe bring her back, and of course it didn't work, so it just gets worse, and worse from there on out. F*****g Obamacare. I knew it was bad when I called out of work for the week, and on the last day, I got a paper in the mail saying that I had to re-enroll. I got wasted at like 3 in the morning, I went outside to shovel snow, and I thought it would make me feel accomplished, only to realize that I had shoveled all of the snow out from the front of the neighboring foreclosed house, which they probably used in campaign sales..."along with the beautiful kitchen and bathrooms you also get 3/4 of a man who shovels your snow. 40,000 down payment and you own your own fully furnished Yonkers home, and an emotionally disfigured Spanish-British indentured servant." F**k you...
I went upstairs more discouraged than I already was, threw on the movie Killer Clowns from Outer Space, masturbated, folded my clothes and put them in my file cabinet, puked, told myself "I'M not cleaning that up," and went straight to sleep. You still think you know "it" huh? I dreamt about all kinds of s**t, amputees, orphans, nuclear aftermath survivors, anime characters, drifters, North Koreans, and all of our other oriental brothers, and sisters...and I woke up and asked myself, my man, what happened to your constitution? It was time for some self reflection. There was hardened puke pizza, hardened criminals on my floor, beer bottles, clothes, papers, change, I hadn't changed clothes in days, paraphernalia, beer bottles...
...there was blood, contraband, and foreign currency, tampons...
...beer bottles, and Chinese food everywhere. I also got my a*s kicked by my best friend. I needed to change, so I got up, cleaned my space, wrote this, applied for Baruch, went back to work, crafted some art, and cleaned the pizza puke off of the weights in my room. Working out made me feel 25 years old again. I'm 26 years old, by the way. The stress and the misery was going away, I was doing things, my constitution came back, my logic woke up and I felt great. I felt more fit, in shape, attractive, I quit smoking, and started again because I'm not a quitter. Just, generally great results. I'm currently studying construction project management, I do construction on a basis to support my Baji Chiew habit. My room is spotless, I'm reading philosophy, and psychology again, analyzing my thoughts and situational efforts. Closet space now, and my own two feet, and...whatever...
...enough about that s**t. It's not important. Those are just the main reasons why I don't eat pizza anymore. Now let me tell you why I don't like giraffes...